IN IRELAND, there is an extremely strong tradition of storytelling. However, in recent years this rich aspect of our indigenous inheritance is disappearing.
Thankfully these wonderful stories have not totally disappeared, as is evident from the new series, the first volume of which has recently been published by the History Press.
Entitled Cúchulainn and the Crow Queen, it is written, or rather told, by Bernard Kelly and is illustrated by June Peters. There is an introduction by the series originator, Fiona Cullen, in which she writes:
“Today’s storytellers are the carriers of a rich oral culture, which is flourishing across Britain and Ireland in storytelling clubs, theatres, cafés, bars, and meeting places, both indoors and out. These storytellers, members of the storytelling revival, draw on books of traditional tales for much of their repertoire.
“Some of the best contemporary storytellers are creating definitive versions of the tales they love for this series. In this way, stories first found on the page but shaped ‘on the wind’ of a storyteller’s breath, are once more appearing in written form, imbued with new life and energy.”
This new energy and form is evident from the opening lines of the narrative: “Three sisters, three one-eyed midwives, met at the crossroads. Above them there turned the constellations of the sky. At their feet skulked a hungry whelp of a hound.
‘How did it all begin?’ asked the youngest sister.
‘With the battle,’ said the oldest one. ‘When the gods came from the north, they set their ships alight so there would be no turning back. Their dark goddess’, the Morrigu, the great Crow Queen, descended and pierced the earth with her sharp claws.’”
And we are off. Despite the obvious parallels with the opening scene in Shakespeare’s Macbeth there is an obvious drive and passion in this narrative voice that is as enticing as it is exciting and individual.
Over 22 episodes, Kelly brings us through a whole new version of the Táin Bó Cuailnge and manages to include the ‘Three Sorrows of Storytelling’ into the narrative without losing a beat and with complete conviction.
Perhaps Kelly’s greatest achievement is his ability to induce a complete suspension of disbelief. The narrative is so powerful that the reader accepts, without question, the veracity of the story no matter how fantastic or incredible it may be. The reader will put down this book dazed for a moment or two before blinking the way back to grey reality.
It is important to underline that the book is not written for children, certainly not for younger children, as the author does not pull any punches in his describing the savagery or the casual sexuality inherent in our earlier myths and stories.
If the rest of the volumes that are yet to appear reach the quality and passion of Cúchulainn and the Crow Queen, this series could do for Irish mythology what Riverdance did for Irish dancing. While waiting to see if this is achieved, you could do a lot worse than celebrating our Irishness this month of St Patrick by reading this magnificent saga and wallowing in the rich mythological world that is our national heritage.
