Tag Archives: Padraic Colum

Calling up Irish mythology and legend.

As I was listening to Gerard Doyle narrate The King of Ireland’s Son, I kept imagining children listening to their parents read the stories, and that made them even more delightful. Several reviews from parents who did read them aloud, and even the ones who didn’t care for the book themselves, admitted that the children loved them. Many adults said that they’d heard the stories as children and read them on their own when they grew up, often multiple times. This was the case with my dear friend from whom I heard about this book a couple of years ago.

First I listened to the Audible version in bits and pieces, many parts several times over, because I would get distracted or fall asleep and have to backtrack. Though I was captivated by the Irish storytelling style of Gerard Doyle, listening was not the best way for me, not primarily an auditory learner, to keep the characters and their adventures straight. Finally, desperate to make sense of everything, I completed the print edition.

Now, I am still at a loss for how to articulate what charms me so much about Colum’s accomplishment, so I looked to other readers who might do it for me. One reader who enjoyed it many times, as a child and as an adult, wrote, “I am stunned at the beauty of Colum’s language and at his handling of plot. There is a story within a story within a story, with smaller tales that reflect on the main ones and often involve the same characters…. And the stories themselves often have an eerie beauty and an undercurrent of sadness. But there’s lots of humor, too, [The King of Cats is hilarious. -GJ] and lots of adventure, and, among the characters, girls as well as boys get to show spunk and initiative.”

Then the King of Ireland’s Son
mounted his horse and rode away—

His hound at his heel,
His hawk on his wrist;
A brave steed to carry him whither he list
And the green ground under him.

Another reviewer explains how “…what initially appear to be seven different stories actually blend together to become tales-within-tales. The primary tale is a coming-of-age story of the quests of the youngest son of the King of Ireland. During the course of the quest, the king’s son and others in the primary tale relate stories of their own. Characters from these secondary tales then appear later in the primary tale. The end result is a rich and complex tapestry of interconnecting histories and experiences as each character grows and finds out more about him- or herself. It soon becomes clear that for the central characters, learning the stories themselves becomes the goal of their quest.”

A little background on Colum and the book:

“Although the book was written in America in the years before 1916, Colum was a close friend and colleague of some of those who led the Easter Rising. The King of Ireland’s Son was the ultimate calling-up of Irish mythology and legend, and… made many happy hours for children curled up before glowing turf fires to read by the light of Tilley lamps in the long winter evenings of the new Ireland.”

“Asked how to say his name, he told The Literary Digest the last name was the same as the word column. ‘In my first name, the first a has the sound of au. The ordinary pronunciation in Irish is pau’drig.'” (Wikipedia)

Are some of you, my blogging reading friends, familiar with The King of Ireland’s Son? Please tell me about your experience of it. I’m hoping to find a child to read it to very soon!

Padraic Colum sketch by John Butler Yeats

I like rain and roasted onions.

Rain… rain… rain… It’s been raining All. Day. It’s night now and still raining. I’ve been exulting in it, because I didn’t have any responsibilities that required my going out. I could tend the fire, chat with my daughters online about their weather, roast onions, read, and even accomplish one housecleaning task that has been hanging over my head for months: cleaning the ceiling exhaust fan in a bathroom. Yippee!

The nodding violet that I brought indoors last week before freezing weather arrived looked so lovely with the rainy light behind it, I had to take its picture.

Sir Gawain by Howard Pyle

On the table by the violet are a few of the books I bought to go with an online course I am taking this fall: “Christian Wonder Tales.” It is taught by Martin Shaw, the mythologist and storyteller whom I met at the Symbolic World Summit last winter. Tolkien’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight didn’t get in the picture, but is another title he recommended, and I have it upstairs.

Who knows if I will read any of these books to the end — I haven’t even finished The King of Ireland’s Son, by Padraic Colum, which is quite delightful. Also perfect for listening to, because the narrator Gerard Doyle’s Irish brogue, telling the stories-within-stories as is the custom with Irish stories, has me journeying entranced from the Irish cottage to the castle and back again, meeting mysterious characters and challenging assignments around every bend in the road.

Now to the topic of food: Back when my friend Susan was also my housemate, sometimes I would walk in the front door to another sort of captivating story, the aroma of which was the essential part. What are you cooking?? I would ask, drawn immediately into the kitchen, and it took a few repetitions of this encounter before my nose remembered what she had told me: “It’s only roasted onions!” I eventually had to start making them myself.

(Above, onions in my kitchen as it was 28 years ago. Notice bread rising in pans at left. The only thing that is the same now is cast iron pans always on the stove top.)

To keep up with my appetite for them, I’d need to roast a batch of onions once a week, but it ends up being more like twice a year. As soon as they are out of the oven I always serve myself a little bowl of them, which seems to be about one onion’s worth… or two — so I usually double the recipe below. Do you roast onions? You can find many recipes online; here is my version:

ROASTED ONIONS

3 large onions, yellow or red
2 tablespoons olive or other oil
1 tablespoon balsamic or other vinegar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper to taste
(1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme) – I never add this

Cut the onions vertically into quarters or sixths, and then slice those wedges crosswise as thick as you want; I make mine 1/8 to 1/3 inch thick. Toss them in a bowl with the other ingredients and roast in a sheet pan at 375 to 400 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour, stirring occasionally, until they are as brown as looks good to you. I think sometimes, in an effort to get them crispier, I have overcooked them and made them a little tough.

This evening I didn’t use balsamic vinegar, because recently I was given an extra special bottle of “plain” red wine vinegar with a noble heritage. Just as bakers like to pass their sourdough starter around to friends, so chefs and winemakers often share a vinegar mother (also called a vinegar scoby). My vinegar was fermented with a mother whose mother belonged to Alice Waters, and whose grandmother grew in Julia Child’s kitchen. Does that make my onions taste better? You know, I think they might just be the best I’ve ever made!