Tales of the Elders of Ireland

by Anonymous, Ann Dooley (Translator), Harry Roe (translator)

Tales of the Elders of Ireland is the first complete translation of the late Middle-Irish Acallam na Senorach, the largest literary text surviving from twelfth-century Ireland. It contains the earliest and most comprehensive collection of Fenian stories and poetry, intermingling the contemporary Christian world of Saint Patrick with his scribes; clerics; occasional angels and souls rescued from Hell; the earlier pagan world of the ancient, giant Fenians and Irish kings; and the parallel, timeless Otherworld (peopled by ever-young, shape-shifting fairies). This readable, lucid new translation is based on existing manuscript sources and is richly annotated, complete with an Introduction discussing the place of the Acallam in Irish tradition and the impact of the Fenian or Ossianic tradition on English and European literature."

Genres: Ireland, Classics, Mythology, Irish Literature, Medieval, History, Folklore

245 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1200

About the author

Books can be attributed to "Anonymous" for several reasons:

* They are officially published under that name
* They are traditional stories not attributed to a specific author
* They are religious texts not generally attributed to a specific author

Books whose authorship is merely uncertain should be attributed to Unknown.

See also: Anonymous

Reviews

[Lanea · Rating 3 out of 5]

For someone who goes out of her way to read and translate Irish and Welsh mythology, well, it took me forever to get to this. Now I remember why. This material--not the translation, mind you, but the material itself--makes me want to shake people really really hard. The text was transcribed in either the 12th or 13th century, which is part of the problem. Because, you know, this version was recorded so much further from the historical source material, and thus pretty terribly corrupted.

Also, in the spirit of full disclosure: I'm a pretty radical feminist and a dirt-worshipping heathen, so St. Patrick doesn't much appeal to me. Most of the Saints whose prime focus was destroying native religions and cultures don't get invited to my birthday parties. The whole "driving the snakes out of Ireland" routine is a thinly-veiled reference to Christian missionaries stamping out or subsuming native Irish religious practices. And I hate green beer too.

Dooley and Roe did a great job translating this. I don't know how they made it through. I would have lost my mind. It's easy to forget what kind of shape some of the mythology is in, having been transcribed by monks who were not generally fluent in the languages they were transcribing and who were also encouraged to "clean up" any texts that seemed blasphemous, idolatrous, sexual, or otherwise un-Christian by medieval standards.

So, you know, priceless pieces of oral history were whitewashed and stripped of sex, humor, tidbits of ancient religious practice and belief--just thinking about what we've lost is making me itch. Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-Christian. I'm anti-censorship. And I particularly resent the roles left for women in some of the works that were transcribed later. That may not make sense to folks who aren't well-versed in Irish myth, but if you compare the women in The Tain Bo Cuailnge to the women in this text and it doesn't make you itch even just a little bit, um, go listen to some P.J. Harvey please. Now. It's an emergency.

Acallam na Senorach is set up as a major frame story which holds hundreds of little stories about Irish mythology. In the book, St. Patrick is trying to learn about Ireland and its heroes, primarily Fionn Mac Cumhaill, from the surviving Fianna. The Fianna were, according to the myths, groups of men who didn't yet hold land or political position who wandered around sort of keeping order and having adventures. I say "sort of keeping order" because they were frequently involved in huge skirmishes that didn't seem to do anything to keep the peace or maintain justice. Fionn's Fianna had many run-ins with the Tuatha de Danaan, the Divine Tribes of the Goddess Danu. The main narrator in Acallam na Senorach is Cailte, Finn's right-hand man and an all-around badass.

Should be a great book of stories, right? For many people, it probably is. For me, well, I hate parts of it like poison. Largely because over and over again, for no clear reason, members of the Irish pantheon suddenly cowtow to Patrick and forswear their own divinity.

Seriously. Who would do that? The Dagda would not do that. Aengus Og would not do that. The Morrigan would certainly not do that. And I shudder to think how any of them would react if their siblings or kids--even just the demi-Gods--did it. Makes no sense. Destroys all connection to character established in the earlier mythology. The Tuatha De Danaan were badasses in the myths. And suddenly they're worshiping some new God they just heard about? I know this form of revision is common in many Christianized cultures, but it drives me nuts. Nuts, I say.

When I could set aside my burning anger and remember that I was reading a historically-significant text that two really talented translators had made available to me for crap pay and too little recognition, I really was able to enjoy the stories, particularly the dindsenchas (stories that explain how a place got its name--a very important type of Irish myth).

But then one of the Tuatha De Danaan would lay his or head into Patrick's lap and beg to be baptised and offer to dig up the grave of one of their relatives or lovers so that Patrick could have more wealth, and I would start cursing again.

And in case anyone is wondering, if I die and am buried with a horde of my cool stuff and any of you dig me up to steal my grave goods to fund some evangelist, my peeps will boil you alive. In the nicest way possible of course, but with the same results.

[Judyta Szacillo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Reading Accalamh na Senórach (the Irish title of the Tales of the Elders) turned out to be quite a chore. I won’t lie, it wasn’t exactly a pleasure read and it took me a few months of dipping in and out to finish. It’s not an uncommon experience, of course: medieval writings appealed to different tastes and fashions than what we’re used to nowadays. But I’ve read my share of ancient and medieval texts, and this one tired me out more than many others.

Several factors contributed to this: the sheer number of stories included in this collection, their repetitive character, and the fact that a lot of content was edited out of the originals by the fourteenth- or fifteenth-century ecclesiastical writers. The stories are often so similar to each other and so formulaic that they unavoidably become boring. This may give the modern reader a false impression that medieval people liked listening to boring stories. Nothing could be further from the truth! Even in their sterilised shape, the tales in this collection at times betray their former glory - there are still glimpses of great quality poetry and storytelling that escaped the censorship of the Church.

Also, the modern translators, Ann Dooley and Harry Roe, did a cracker job making the text as readable as it could only be. Kudos to them for treating the versed parts with great literary sensitivity - the poetic verses are really the best parts in the whole book.

Still, if you want a fuller flavour of Irish medieval storytelling, please don’t start with this collection. It’s a poor antiquarian effort compared to the works preserved by the twelfth-century compilers in the likes of the Book of Leinster or the Book of the Dun Cow. They were Church writers, too, but they didn’t castrate the tales they were copying. I am not anti-Christian by any means, but it does test my patience when all the characters in the hundreds of stories in Accalamh na Senórach end up either paying homage to Saint Patrick or getting cursed by him. Though, admittedly, I was mollified when I read the story in which the saint promises heaven to a musician in reward for his good performance!

[Brok3n · Rating 2 out of 5]

Let us all praise Dear Leader Patrick

Early in its history, Ireland had a problem that many peoples have had, deriving from limited land and primogeniture. If you're a Big Man (women need not apply) with enough land to support your family and soldiers (we will come to why you need soldiers presently), you need to avoid dividing that land. A fertile man is likely to have more than one son. (Polygamy was a thing.) You cannot pass your land on to all of them. The practice was to hand it down to the oldest son.

What do you do with the spares? Well, in early Ireland (and other places) many of these young men joined bands of brigands. In Ireland the brigands were called Fianna. They hunted, raided the cattle of propertied folks (hence the need for soldiers), hired themselves out as mercenaries. (And got themselves killed, pretty often.) The oldest Irish folklore concerns the Fianna. If you doubt the hold that the Fianna have on Irish imagination, note the name of the current (May-2026) largest Irish political party. Of course, Fianna Fáil would object to my use of the word "brigands" to describe the legendary Fianna, but they would, I suspect, wink while objecting.

I don't think the time of the Fianna can be precisely dated, but generally they were civilized and suppressed by the Christian church. Thus the conversion of Ireland by Patrick (ca. 387 - 461 CE) can be taken as the approximate end of the Fianna.

The longest written work of Fianna folklore that has come down to us is Acallam na Senórach, "Colloquy of the Ancients," of which Tales of the Elders of Ireland is a translation. Acallam na Senórach dates from the late 12th or early 13th centuries. You will notice that the 12th century was a long, long time after Patrick. You would be justified in doubting how authentic a report of those legends it can possible be.

It gets worse! The Church obviously had issues with the Fianna, of which polygamy, thievery and murder were near the top. Acallam na Senórach is a propaganda tract that takes the point of view that, while these stories are all very interesting, it is a Very Good Thing that the church has now triumphed.

Acallam na Senórach purports to be a series of stories told to Patrick by Caílte mac Rónáin, one of the most prominent of the Fianna, after Caílte's conversion to Christianity by Patrick. Caílte was a nephew of the last and most famous of the chieftains of the Fianna, Fionn mac Cumhaill (whom you may have heard of as Finn Mac Cool). In general Caílte wanders around Ireland, and whenever he comes to a new place, someone (most often Patrick) asks him why this place is named what it is. And Caílte tells the story of that place. Some of these stories are good, but most are repetitive pastiches of boasting of the prowess of the Fianna.

Also, Patrick is a terrible person. For instance, here is an early story

Priests went off to Becan's house and Benen asked him for lodging for Patrick. Becan had eight score milch-herds, and yet he refused them an evening meal. Benen and the clerics then returned and told their tale to Patrick. Patrick said, 'Let not one of his livestock or of his household survive until tomorrow.' This indeed happened, just as Patrick said.

Patrick is the dictator of Ireland. He expects and receives extravagant, North Korean dictator-level, praise -- he grants earthly wealth and heavenly bliss to those who praise him, and death and damnation to those who fail of obsequious obedience. I cannot believe that the modern Roman Catholic Church would approve this account of Patrick.

Thus, Tales of the Elders of Ireland was more of a disappointment than a pleasure. Also, I need to mention an extraordinary gap: there is no index. Since the book is not available in electronic format, good luck if you want to find anything!

Blog review.

[Philip of Macedon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Acallam na Senórach, translated usually as Colloquy of the Ancients, or Tales of the Elders (of Ireland), is the longest single writing from medieval Irish mythology and folklore. It is composed of a frame narrative in which the few remaining Fianna who live to the fifth century meet St. Patrick, tell him the lore of their people, and explain how various locations got their names. They also undertake quite a few phenomenal quests and adventures alongside the tales they tell. Since the Fenian myths are thought to take place sometime around the second or third century AD, this means the surviving Fianna are a couple hundred years old at least, the few who have not died from battle or disease. It's a stupendous piece of medieval myth and literature, including many tales from the earlier centuries of the Fenian cycle, some being slightly reworked to fit into this text.

Cailte mac Ronan, one of the leading hunter-warriors of the Fianna, a nephew of Finn mac Cumhaill, has survived, along with a band of twenty-seven other Fianna, into the fifth century. Oisin, the son of Finn, has also survived, but he makes a smaller appearance, only briefly crossing paths with the frame story and sharing a few outstanding tales of his own.

This is an interesting contrast to a shorter version of this story I read in Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Augusta Gregory. In her book, the post-Fenian tales including St. Patrick feature Oisin, not Cailte, speaking to St. Patrick and living with him. In this telling, Oisin and St. Patrick do not get along, their conflicting Pagan and Christian views of the world cause them endless disagreement, and Oisin is treated poorly, like an aging, forgotten relic to be thrown away. This gives the Fenian myths a somber and depressing end. It turns out this version is taken from a much later and shorter version of the Acallam na Senorach, from (if I recall right) the 15th century.

Cailte and St. Patrick have a completely different relationship in the 12th-13th century version of the Acallam na Senorach than the one between St. Patrick and Oisin in the Acallam na Senorach from the 15th century. St. Patrick is right away fascinated with Cailte and his surviving companions, as he places a great value in the lore and history of the Fianna. This is a people who continue to live in the myths and legends of fifth century Ireland, and here, before their eyes, are a few of the remarkable men from that epoch.

They are larger than the people of this time, an indicator in Irish myth of one belonging to a more ancient age. St. Patrick takes Cailte into his entourage, treats him well, and travels all across Ireland with him, stopping along the way to ask how this or that place got its name. This is called Dinsenchas, or the lore of place-names, and it is the impetus for almost every tale that Cailte or Oisin tells in this story.

As Cailte travels across the Ireland of the fifth century, with and without Patrick, he is introduced to a wide array of other characters, like still-living Tuatha de Dannan in their sidhs, or other entities from the Otherworld, or musicians looking to learn the ancient lore, and many of the Kings of Ireland, the King of Leinster, the King of Connacht, the King of Munster, and he travels with each, stays for a short time with them, and inevitably shares with them many of the tales of his people.

His tales are primarily centered around Finn mac Cumhaill or others of the Fianna, and he recounts many vivid, transfixing, epic adventures, an encyclopedic scope of surreal and otherworldly quests and strange happenings, how heroes died or went on to great fame, or other stories from the same era. These are stories involving various kings, Tuatha de Dannan, warriors, and a host of others, often explaining, at least in passing, how some part of Ireland received the name it did, be it a landform, a river, a lake, a megalithic formation, a tomb, a burial ground, a forest, a fortress, a tide at the shore, or some other unassuming piece of the landscape that is extraordinary. It paints a picture of a land in which its mythological past is alive, in which everything of relevance is tied deeply to its history, where the lore is part of the world.

These names of places in the tales no longer exist, because these are names from the early Middle Ages, names that had been around for hundreds of years by the time St. Patrick lived. These names underwent changes, and Cailte explains these too, telling what significant events from myth-history bestowed such mighty names upon these places, natural formations, or regions.

A lot of these tales are complex and involve long sequences of battles, supernatural occurrences and illusions and enchantments, or dramatic episodes of revenge or love or agony or death, interspersed with poetic recitation that complements the tale or reveals a new angle to the story or offers inventive personal insights and reflections. The tales are violent, bloody, full of fire and decapitations and pain and poison; they are beautiful, melodic and descriptive of the calming power of music, or the breathtaking power of nature; they are endlessly imaginative and epic, taking us into every bright and dark part, they reach across the lands of Ireland and across the oceans. The way these tales are worked into the larger story is seamless, and sometimes I forgot if I was hearing Cailte tell of an ancient adventure, or if one was playing out before us, in Cailte’s old age.

A recurring set of people in these stories is the Sons of Morna, enemies of the Fianna, causing all sorts of chaos and misery across Ireland. Something I still do not understand is why the sons of Morna, who were at one time part of the Fianna, as one of their own was king before Finn, are such bitter enemies of Finn. Finn did supplant one of them as king, sure. But after this they still swore loyalty to Finn and remained part of the Fianna. And yet, there are many tales in which the sons of Morna, which must number in the hundreds, are ransacking and pillaging across Ireland, causing grief for everyone, setting traps for the Fianna, or going toe-to-toe with the Fianna in all out bloody slaughter, killing many of those closest to Finn, and having their own killed in turn.

Conan and Goll are two of the sons of Morna who are, at least most of the time, part of the Fianna. And the respect the Fianna have for the sons of Morna is also peculiar, given all this strife and battle. I lost count of how many innocent people lost their lives because of the violence of the sons of Morna.

Frequently, Cailte mourns the loss of an age, and expresses his disappointment in his loss of vitality or his inability to fight as he once could. This could be seen as a twelfth century expression of nostalgia for eras long ago, for old pagan customs, looking back and longing for ancient times. The story as a whole is an epic take on contrasting the fifth century in Christian Ireland with the Pagan Ireland of centuries earlier.

Acallam na Senorach has been called an attempt at defending Irish literary tradition against church reformation, and this seems like a sensible interpretation. But it also hints at incorporating these Irish myths into the broader "modern" world of the time, as if to say, "Look at these magnificent tales, this rich well of ancient imagination and lore -- They can play nice with your modern ideas and your modern beliefs, just give them a chance..." The various people Cailte encounters on his journey, including kings and warriors and poets and musicians, seem to be happy to accept his "true lore", and to wish him victory and happiness for his sharing of such magnificent pieces of history. Patrick and many of the kings order their scribes to write down everything Cailte has said, to preserve it for the people. It sure looks as though these mighty traditions, these incredible stories from an earlier time, are going to be happily integrated into the fifth century Irish mind.

Speaking of the Ireland of the fifth century, St. Patrick is quite the character. Despite being the most respected and loved holy man in the country at the time, whom numerous members of royalty and power bow to and pledge their wealth to, and who bestows many a great treasure and hospitality and generosity on others, he is also shown as having a short temper and cursing those who wrong him in some way. If a hospitaller (innkeeper) refuses to serve him or make room for him, Patrick curses him either to die, or for his family to undergo pain and misery, or his herds to die of disease, or some other very specific thing. This is one example of many. And these curses always come to pass. A note in the book mentions that this was a regular occurrence in the old tales written about St. Patrick.

The Oxford World's Classic version of this outstanding book includes five maps of Ireland, tracing Patrick's and Cailte's paths across the country, showing each place they stop. This is useful for correlating the stories with the places, which is important, since often the stories are tied directly to the places. Also of great use are the notes, which provide abundant additional information about many pieces of this story. Some of the tales of Fenian lore have been reworked here to instead feature Cailte as their central figure, occurring within the frame narrative in the fifth century, instead of as one of Cailte's or Oisin's tales from long ago. This is neat. These tales otherwise go exactly as I remember them from Gods and Fighting Men, but they are occurring in the Christian Ireland of the fifth century, implying that this age of heroic legend and myth is not quite as dead as we are led to believe, and these epic, spellbinding events can still play out in every bit as glorious grandeur and vividness as they did in the days of the Fenian lore.

The book is replete with a sense of time and place, of two ancient ages blending together, where very-very-old tradition and myth meets very-old tradition and myth, and the cultural history and lore of Ireland is celebrated and is huge and massive and burns itself into your mind. There is a constant notion of changing times and attitudes, but also the hopeful memory of times and attitudes all but forgotten, resurrected in full power. The ancient world looks different, it looks more mysterious, more heroic, as though the bizarre and unexplainable lies in every forest, or every river or lake or fortress or tomb that is a passage to an underworld, and the time of day or the time of year or the place you are is extremely significant, as though these alone are going to determine what shapes the world takes before you, right now. This is a world imbued with magic and a dozen threads of interweaving history and shadows. It's not only the world that is different, it's the people and the creatures and the caves and the way nature itself works that are different. Everything seems to have an extra dimension about it.

[Alys · Rating 4 out of 5]

I assume the translation is good, although I haven't yet read the original Irish... There was the odd place where the English didn't flow very well or words had strange semantic ranges. I was supposed to read this book for an essay but never bothered until now (and it's taken me all summer even though it's short). The issue with this text is that it is EXTREMELY episodic. Sometimes more than one mini episode per page and by the time you've read a chapter, they've all blurred into one and you're left with some vague sense that Cailte is important, Finn is great and Patrick is holy and that's kind of it ... the stories also feature a lot of historical/literary/mythological figures which I think a medieval audience would have been familiar with but I am not so they also blurred together entirely. Having said that, some of the episodes were actually a lot of fun and I think someone should adapt it into a TV program. There was also one very funny moment where a dog farted someone off a cliff and I think the shock of reading that in amongst pretty serious stuff made the whole thing worth it.

[Nora · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cailte and Patrick should have kissed (more)

[Cailin Elliott]

Ranges from delightfully entertaining to utterly incomprehensible.

Notable characters include “the salmon of wisdom,” the “long-heeled satirists,” and the “swine of enchanted druidry.”

[Linda Malcor · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's tough going and really repetitive. I can't imagine medieval people sitting around and listening to this.

[shannon moore · Rating 2 out of 5]

st. patrick's lore goes crazy! never would have read this if not for a class. interesting. irish literature origins are interesting. finn mccool is interesting. st patrick is VERY interesting.... but this is a confusing narrative for sure.

[Mary · Rating 3 out of 5]

A rather surprising amount of grave-robbing.

[Alison Lilly · Rating 5 out of 5]

Compelling and rich — and what a twist at the end!

Joking aside, an excellent translation of a rather dense text, with an informative introduction.

(An aside in response to other reviews: There are those who might bemoan the loss of “authentic” oral tradition because of the Christian influence, but the editors make an excellent case in their intro for approaching the narrative as a layered intratextual conversation navigating the tensions between the Christianity of the author’s present and recent-past, and an ancient pre-Christian oral tradition that still held immense influence and beauty even centuries later. In that sense, it’s an invaluable text that gives great insight into how the Irish of the time experienced and understood this transition. To try to dissect the text for the sole purpose of extracting its “pure” elements seems, to me, to be not only missing the central theme of the text itself, but tantamount to just another act of colonialist white-washing that denies the complexity and lived experiences of the people who told these stories. But I’ll get off my soapbox now! ;)

[Amanda B · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a dense but interesting read.

[Gastjäle · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 / 5.0

A patched-up collection of stories and poems embedded in a frame story involving the meanderings of Caílte and the superhuman Saint Patrick. There is a handful of somewhat interesting stories, but at worst they are like this extract:

There was a robber in that land, named Dubchraide, son of Dubtnúthach. He raided and stole from Patrick, who chanted the following lines:

'Consent from me, little Caílte, who put warriors under mounds,
Whoever would kill Dubchraide, would get no shame.'

After which the man died.

Yet there's more than a handful of pretty poetry, such as these verses:

'Whence comes the Wave of Flood from the fair-haired sea?
From what land, fortune with prosperity? What brings sleep of the song?

'Is it the Wave of Rudraige the Red that comes from the south or the north?
Or the wave that subsides here that screams at Trawohelly?

'Is it the cold Wave of the Hill of Howth or the harsh Wave of the Estuary of Colba?
Or the sweet Wave of the Shore of Baile that is guarding Ireland?

'Is it the Wave of Clidna with victory that strikes the solid land,
Or the Wave of Dublin or that of the Shoals of the son of Dáirine?

'Whatever be this wave, more beautiful than other, beautiful its colour, full and pure.
Sweet its garbled sound in the steep inlet, but cold the song that it sings.'

As one can see, plenty of names even in this short bit of poetry. But that's nothing, the book itself absolutely abounds with them. Tales takes the etymological expositions of The Táin and cranks them up to eleven, with almost every page featuring something to this effect: "Why is the Ford of Very Dead Dog called that?", "For a warrior called Cúthúc, the son of Err the son of Blúg, skilled in weaponry, one day took to the ford and suddenly slayed a dog there. After it was dead, Cúthúc said: 'That's a very dead dog.' And the ford has been called The Ford of Very Dead Dog ever since." This is often followed by Saint Patrick applauding the greatness of the tale and telling his scribe to jot it in.

Besides his role as a paid ad, Patrick is also quite interesting in how he represents Christianity. His is not the namby-pamby "love thy neighbour" credo; he gleefully curses people for not catering to his material needs or not being willing to be converted. For example, there is an instance when he asks for some meat, and upon receiving but a refusal, he casts a spell on the herd and their master, causing the earth to swallow them up in a true Christian fashion. The religion is touted as superior by means of force and material gains.

Tales lacks the charm of the Great Irish Epic and the other tales I have read, but, besides the nice poetry mentioned and quoted above, there is a somewhat wistful atmosphere to it. Most of the action of the narrative takes place in the past, often through the melancholy tales and songs of Caílte, whose incredible memory furnishes many a tidbit from the lives of such heroes as Finn mac Cumaill (or Cumhaill, but for reasons of decency I'll stick with the former). Most reports end in tears over what has been lost forever, and not even his conversion to Christianity can allay Caílte's sorrow.

While the tales themselves are often quite boring, with bloated lists of names no one knows or cares about, it is the overall atmosphere and the shiny particulars that save the experience from being a waste of time and interest. But honestly, there's better stuff out there.

[Andrew Fahey · Rating 4 out of 5]

This new translation of the Acallam na Senórach provides a rich account of the spirit of an Ireland just past the threshold of great spiritual and cultural transformation. There is a romantic nostalgia that pervades the Acallam as the last tired and weary warriors of an earlier heroic age yield their vast store of lore and wisdom to the emergent Catholic establishment under Saint Patrick, and in the process surrender their dominion over the spirit of that earlier age to the reforming influence of the church. The Acallam itself does not read as an easy narrative in the modern sense and is instead a dense interlacing of place-name lore, genealogy and accounts of various heroic and dastardly deeds involving all from commoners to kings, warriors, druids and the godlike race of Faeries (the Tuatha Dé Danann) who inhabit the underground otherworld of the Síde of Ireland. Only having the most passing familiarity with Gaelic (let alone it’s medieval predecessor) I googled the meaning of Acallam (or Aghalam) and the results said it means something akin to an interview or discussion; and that is how the book reads: like the reader is seated at the foot of Caílte or Oisín the book’s heroic warrior elders as they tell tales of their younger lives and years gone by. It is also worth remembering that Ireland was for many centuries a largely non-literate society of storytellers and poets who recited their lore for others. This gives much of the Acallam a familiar conversational tone, but also includes some features that readers might find odd: lots of repetition of names and places, and repeated forms and structures of tales for instance. It is worth keeping in mind that these features are highly desirable in a non-literate context as they serve to fix important details in the minds of the audience (one can’t go back a page to check something after all, and asking a speaker to repeat themselves constantly quickly becomes tedious). These details gives a predictability of form that helps one to receive and store the lore and wisdom being imparted without worrying about the novelty of new styles of inventive storytelling and the like. Read in this fashion it gives a fascinating account of the mythic-cultural landscape of Ireland where history and heroes exist side-by-side and where memory and myth meet at the fords, cairns, burial mounds and forts that take their names from the deeds that occurred there.

Regarding the translation and compilation of this volume, Ann Dooley and Harry Roe have provided a very competent introduction to the text (if a tad dry in places and catering slightly more to specialists in medieval Irish literature) as well as extensive and informative endnotes to sections of the text that provide insightful context or draw connections to other matters a general audience is unlikely to be aware of.

For aficionados of mythology and the like this is a very enjoyable read. It’s more modern equivalent might be found in the campfire tales of a cowboy who had seen the glory days of the old west with all of its heroics, horrors and tribulations, yielding to the inevitable tide of history his last recollections of a faded former time. The tales of both the cowboy and the Acallam are larger-than-life, filled with the vigour and enthusiasm still held in the memories of those grand personalities who swam in the currents of a more heroic era.

[Joseph F. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Admittedly, this is not an easy read, with its poetry and repetitious framework. But if you are really into the major texts of Irish mythology, or are into medieval manuscripts, this book is a must.

After Patrick has come to Ireland, he makes friends with Cailte, a very ancient member of the long gone Fianna (aristocratic men who are sort of living outside society and spend their time fighting and hunting, and hunting and fighting, and more of the same.) He travels with Patrick and others, pointing out the meaning of many landmarks, and giving us stories he remembers of the great days when Finn Mac Cumhaill headed up the Fianna.
As the they travel they often come across a handsome man or beautiful woman. After a brief description of what the stranger is wearing, they find out the figure is, usually, a member of the Tuatha De Dannaan. These are the fairies, or the people of the sid mounds. Sometimes they ask for help, sometimes they are trouble. Some of the more interesting tales are about how the Fianna have helped the fairies in their wars. They apparently fight often with themselves, as well as outsiders, and although immortal, can die violently.

It's a sad story: the fairies seem to be in decline. With their infighting and Patrick working against these pagan spirits, their days are numbered. They will forever be imprisoned in their mounds (the prehistoric burial mounds as well as the hills and caves), never to interact with Christian folk again.

You have probably come across tales of Finn and the Fianna in books on Celtic mythology. I noticed that many of the familiar tales I've read are not here. But a few are. Either way, I believe this book is the central work concerning the Fenian cycle, the same way as The Tain (cattle raid), is the central book of the Ulster cycle in Irish mythology.

[Peter McLaughlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s slow to start: I’d maybe read the first bit until Caílte is baptised by St Patrick just for context, then skip ahead to around chapter 3, where Caílte has adventures with the Tuatha Dé. The prosimetrics are very stop-start, not helped by the fact that the verse in Dooley and Roe’s translation is middling at best. But many of the stories are exceptionally cool, and the whole imaginative world of medieval Irish literature (which is brilliantly exciting) is expressed clearly and precisely here. The issue is that, well, Matthew Arnold was on to something: that imaginative world is built out of materials taken from a context that we today don’t understand, a context that we see in the literature itself only through a glass darkly. Arnold may have been wrong when he made such confident assertions about that context, that it was pagan mythology pillaged and desecrated by ignorant monks (we know now that the monks were not so ignorant, the mythology perhaps not so pagan); but modern scholars err when they dismiss his perception that there is something here we know not what.

[Cian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Acallam itself is a 11th and 12th century literary genre that combines the Patrician, Fenian and the otherworldly sídhe. Composed in both poetic verse and epic prose, this edition is but one of several surviving renditions of the tale of the last of the Fenian. It tells us a great deal about contemporary medieval society, as allegiances at the time and place of composition are made apparent by the subtle additions of figures, dynasties and the political realities of the 11th and 12th centuries. The narrative is carried across the whole of Ireland, through history, space and otherworldly time; almost exclusively by means of a Dindsenchas, with either Caoilte or Oisín elaborating on the lore of the places they visit either to Saint Patrick and his clerics, or to the kings and nobles that journey to hear their stories of the fían.

I've been meaning to read this book for nearly two years, or more. Now was the time.

[alice · Rating 4 out of 5]

read this for a university class, and though i love fíannaigeacht texts this is not my favourite. i know it’s the major work in fenian literature but the frame-tale, sub-tale structure over complicates the text and honestly bores me out of my mind. occasional stories jump out and interest me, and i love the conversation between patrick and caílte, reminds me of the BBC in our time shows lol. the passing of the torch, so to speak, of the pagan past to the christian present is demonstrated magnificently but one can’t help but wonder how much of the landscape (i.e. prior place names) have been altered to fit the narrative of the church. clearly of use as an educational text too, but lots of focus on memory and the need to preserve the ancient tales of ireland- necessary considering the norman invasion. overall i’m more of a fan of shorter tales in the finn cycle, but this was still an interesting read.

[Ivory · Rating 2 out of 5]

Interesting starting out, quickly becomes dull. Not the best resource for learning about the Fiana, and very confusing--there are many characters with the same name, and some who are only mentioned a couple of times. A lot of characters enter the story and then leave it without advancing the plot.

Ultimately a very heavy read for people just starting out with Irish mythology, though there are a few of the more famous stories hidden in there among the rest.

[Mary · Rating 3 out of 5]

Although somewhat dense, this translation offers plenty of explanatory notes, and if you can get through the density, there's some really wild stories throughout. Personally, I found these stories enlightening and intriguing, but I'm also using them as source material for my own work, so the random digressions and repetitive structures don't bother me.

[Nesta Newman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not nearly as dense as some translations of early medieval literature, and the blend of historical and mythical elements made it very engaging.

[Makayla · Rating 2 out of 5]

More boring tales of glory and weird relationships with nature. Vikings are next, and they are far more interesting.

[Lulu (the library leopard)]

saint patrick offers relationship advice in this more than i expected

[Louis Boyle · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not the most readable translation, nor is the premise particularly well executed. Not as strong as the Old Irish texts or other entries in the Finn Cycle.

[rián o'kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

quite difficult to read, however, this book is definitely worth the effort and merits a re-read at some stage

[Snubbeltråden · Rating 1 out of 5]

On perin oudoksuttavaa, että lääketeollisuus koki tarvetta kehittää melatoniinivalmisteita; tämä kirja kun merkittiin muistiin jo 1200-luvun alussa.

[Lulu]

Last quarter of 12th

Fenian Cycle

[Dylan Rock · Rating 4 out of 5]

A wonderful translation of these classic Irish tales that walk the line between Epic and pastoral folk tale.

[Barry · Rating 2 out of 5]

Tales of the Elders of Ireland is a translation of 12th century Irish manuscripts of Acallam na Senórach or "The Colloquy of the Ancients". It follows the travels of the last survivors of the Fianna, an ancient Irish warrior band originally led by Fionn mac Cumhaill. The two remaining warriors are Oisín and his cousin Caílte, both of whom are Fionn's son and nephew, respectively.

The narrative is mostly concerned with the travels of Caílte around Ireland and his explanation of various place-names where he is visiting. He meets with a number of kings, warriors, poets, musicians, and especially Saint Patrick; and he recounts tales of his past exploits and those of the Fianna.

"Tales" attributes a number of miracles to Saint Patrick, which are not otherwise confirmed in other sources.

For someone like me who is not an Irish literary scholar, the style of writing the narrative in a type of question-answer format gets a little tedious at some points. The "Tales" does include a very helpful set of maps and end notes. The sum of my knowledge of the provinces of Ireland is derived solely from watching Irish Rugby (pretty limited!). Consequently, a little more background about Ireland and its peoples would be helpful to have at hand when reading "Tales".

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very interesting as being the oldest surviving version of the Irish heroic legends. Also notable for the generally friendly relationship between the Christian and pre-Christian cultures in Ireland as depicted in these legends.
The basic pattern of the stories is that Cailte, one of the few survivors of the Irish heroic age, is traveling around Ireland, most of the time with St. Patrick, and when they reach a landmark --often, though not always, a gravemound--
Cailte tells Patrick's party the story behind it --frequently the tragic death of the person or persons buried in it. The stories tend to be a bit repetitous if taken in large doses, but they contain much beautiful description, esp. of clothing and ornaments worn by the legendary characters. The stories do not form a coherent plot (unlike, say, Lady Gregory's version a hundred years ago) but they are
interesting miniatures.