What do you think?
Rate this book
Thirty-Two Words for Field: Lost Words of the Irish Landscape
1
292 pages, Hardcover
First published September 4, 2020
389 people are currently reading
4150 people want to read
About the author
Manchán Magan
17 books226 followersManchán Magan was a writer, traveller and television presenter. He grew up in Donnybrook, Dublin 4 and was the great-grandnephew of Mícheál Seosamh Ó Rathaille (aka: The O'Rahilly) He has made over 30 travel documentaries focusing on issues of world culture and globalization, 12 of them packaged under the Global Nomad series with his brother Ruán Magan. He presented No Béarla, a documentary series about traveling around Ireland speaking only Irish. He wrote a travel column for the Irish Times and his show The Big Adventure, on RTÉ Radio One explored adventure holidays. He has written two books in Irish, 'Baba-ji agus TnaG' (Coiscéim 2005) and 'Manchán ar Seachrán' (Coiscéím 1998), and his English travel books include ‘Angels & Rabies: a journey through the Americas’ (Brandon, 2006), ‘Manchán’s Travels: a journey through India’ (Brandon, 2007) and ‘Truck Fever: a journey through Africa’ (Brandon, 2008).
http://irishmedia.blogspot.com/2007/1...
Irish Times profile, 2007 by Róisín Ingle.
http://irishmedia.blogspot.com/2007/1...
Irish Times profile, 2007 by Róisín Ingle.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 180 reviews
January 10, 2021
Perhaps the most Irish effort at a dictionary I have ever read. It wouldn't be like us to simply provide dry lists of words accompanied by meaning, alphabetised, when the opportunity presents to accompany those words with a compelling mixture of language, folklore, archaeology and anecdote. In choosing such an approach, Magan presents a wonderfully discursive story of the Irish language. Note that this book reads very much as a story, rather than a history. I would normally bristle at such an approach, but Magan doesn't present as an academic and more than makes up for any shortfalls in this regard with passion and unbridled enthusiasm.
January 1, 2021
Thar a bheith taitneamhach, meabhrúcháin tríd go mbeidh mé de shíoraí i mo fhoghlaimeoir ar an teanga ársa, casta, álainn s'againn agus nach iontach an rud é sin. Thar moladh beirte!
November 15, 2020
This book was truly mind-blowing for me from the very first page. The nostalgia it brought out in me, for a time I barely even experienced growing up in Ireland, was extraordinary.
It makes me sad that how I was taught Irish totally missed the point of our wonderful language - instead we were taught about 800 years of English oppression and of course a curriculum heavily influenced by the Catholic Church. Dull, depressing, dark. No wonder most kids at school hated Irish class.
There is so much wonderful expression that Irish is capable of shown in this book, that exhibits a deep connection to landscape and nature, people and animals. And also some amazing connections to past civilisations, other cultures and also the "other" world. A truly inspirational read!
It makes me sad that how I was taught Irish totally missed the point of our wonderful language - instead we were taught about 800 years of English oppression and of course a curriculum heavily influenced by the Catholic Church. Dull, depressing, dark. No wonder most kids at school hated Irish class.
There is so much wonderful expression that Irish is capable of shown in this book, that exhibits a deep connection to landscape and nature, people and animals. And also some amazing connections to past civilisations, other cultures and also the "other" world. A truly inspirational read!
May 13, 2021
Thirty-Two Words For Field is sort of like the anti-Motherfocloir. While both books try to provide a narrative around long lists of old meanings and forgotten words in Irish, only one of them makes the reader excited to actually go out and learn the language.
If you only read the final 20 pages, you would think that Manchán Magan just finds these old meanings interesting and is only trying to deepen Irish speakers’ connection with what went before. But that would be to ignore the previous 340 pages where he presents himself, a man who grew up as very much part of the elite, as the one true inheritor and translator of the Irish language, and through it all of ‘true’ Irish culture.
Maybe a more skilful writer wouldn’t say so baldly that the “new generation of urban learners” are “learning a ghost form of Irish lacking nuance” before going on to make a comparison to “the empty husk of someone when the fairies have taken their essence”. They wouldn’t go around referring to India as “on the margins” of Europe. They mightn’t suggest that just because the elite man from Dublin isn’t invited into circles where he’ll find out the words about female sexuality, young women in the Gaeltacht today mustn’t know them either. Maybe a better writer wouldn’t flatten 6,000 (or was it 4,000 or 10,000?) years of history or would actually interrogate how the past has been presented through time and how that should affect how we read sources.
Or maybe a stronger editor would have told Magan the book reads like the conversations you try to avoid in the smoking area of the Róísín.
A disappointing read.
If you only read the final 20 pages, you would think that Manchán Magan just finds these old meanings interesting and is only trying to deepen Irish speakers’ connection with what went before. But that would be to ignore the previous 340 pages where he presents himself, a man who grew up as very much part of the elite, as the one true inheritor and translator of the Irish language, and through it all of ‘true’ Irish culture.
Maybe a more skilful writer wouldn’t say so baldly that the “new generation of urban learners” are “learning a ghost form of Irish lacking nuance” before going on to make a comparison to “the empty husk of someone when the fairies have taken their essence”. They wouldn’t go around referring to India as “on the margins” of Europe. They mightn’t suggest that just because the elite man from Dublin isn’t invited into circles where he’ll find out the words about female sexuality, young women in the Gaeltacht today mustn’t know them either. Maybe a better writer wouldn’t flatten 6,000 (or was it 4,000 or 10,000?) years of history or would actually interrogate how the past has been presented through time and how that should affect how we read sources.
Or maybe a stronger editor would have told Magan the book reads like the conversations you try to avoid in the smoking area of the Róísín.
A disappointing read.
April 6, 2022
This was difficult to rate.
I loathed the rather twee writing at times, and loathed even more the poorly drawn analogies to quantum physics that Magan attempts throughout.
However, I did love a great deal of this book, in spite of all that loathing. Perhaps I'm biased because I've grown up in Ireland and am acutely aware of how our language was taken from us by the British. Or perhaps I'm biased by an awareness of how our culture was destroyed by first the Catholic Church (St. f*cking Patrick is load of medieval Christian propaganda designed to undermine the native Irish pagan culture of the time) and then, later, the British. Or perhaps it's my own guilt about my poor grasp of the language. Whatever the cause, I was deeply drawn to the content of this book that focused on Irish history, culture, and language. However twee the writing, these are areas the author is clearly well versed in.
For anyone interested in such things, it's the most accessible book on the subjects I've ever read. Far more than academic texts on old Irish language and celtic mythology.
Narratively it's illogically constructed at times. It reads more like a meandering stream of consciousness, akin to the ramblings of a mildly drunk person in a pub. This is an undeniably stereotypically Irish way of communicating but it can be frustrating to read. It results in the author introducing terms like Sí to describe the faeries before explaining that the word means mound or hill, so you've to contend with multiple chapters of terms for the faeries such as the world famous banshee before it ever becomes apparent that this translates as woman of the mound.
But the cultural content of this book is so good that, in spite of the terrible ignorant science analogies, the twee writing, and the bizarre narrative structure, it's a must read.
I loathed the rather twee writing at times, and loathed even more the poorly drawn analogies to quantum physics that Magan attempts throughout.
However, I did love a great deal of this book, in spite of all that loathing. Perhaps I'm biased because I've grown up in Ireland and am acutely aware of how our language was taken from us by the British. Or perhaps I'm biased by an awareness of how our culture was destroyed by first the Catholic Church (St. f*cking Patrick is load of medieval Christian propaganda designed to undermine the native Irish pagan culture of the time) and then, later, the British. Or perhaps it's my own guilt about my poor grasp of the language. Whatever the cause, I was deeply drawn to the content of this book that focused on Irish history, culture, and language. However twee the writing, these are areas the author is clearly well versed in.
For anyone interested in such things, it's the most accessible book on the subjects I've ever read. Far more than academic texts on old Irish language and celtic mythology.
Narratively it's illogically constructed at times. It reads more like a meandering stream of consciousness, akin to the ramblings of a mildly drunk person in a pub. This is an undeniably stereotypically Irish way of communicating but it can be frustrating to read. It results in the author introducing terms like Sí to describe the faeries before explaining that the word means mound or hill, so you've to contend with multiple chapters of terms for the faeries such as the world famous banshee before it ever becomes apparent that this translates as woman of the mound.
But the cultural content of this book is so good that, in spite of the terrible ignorant science analogies, the twee writing, and the bizarre narrative structure, it's a must read.
October 18, 2020
An absolutely charming introduction to the Irish language and worldview! But all these words and not one for the incredible homesickness I got reading this, despite never having been to Ireland myself.
November 17, 2020
I wanted to like this book more. It has really interesting sections on Irish legends and history but there is a lot of "the word X which means Y but can also mean Z" - this gets a bit tiresome. I think it would be more enjoyable if there was a guide (maybe the bottom of each page or end of the chapter) on how to pronounce these words otherwise for someone who hasn't spoken Irish since school it isn't very easy to read.
March 11, 2025
About 60% interesting words and lore, 40% complete horseshit.
January 25, 2024
Many have read as an assignment Henry David Thoreau’s Walden. His cabin-based quest to get back to nature, even within a short walk to his mother’s house for snacks, remains iconic in American literature. In the roughly 17 decades since its publication, thousands of authors inspired by Thoreau’s account have penned their own, and millions wished they could.
In the middle of Ireland today, another author pursues his own investigation of the landscape around his native haunts. Known for his travelogues and documentaries, Manchán Magan reflects, in neatly composed chapters of about 1,500 words each, upon the blend of language and insight which connected his ancestors to their world for 4,000 years. In its latest form, the native Irish tongue of Gaeilge survives still, albeit as an endangered one, with anywhere from 20,000 to 70,000 daily speakers left. Although compulsory in state school, it may evolve into a standard of communication akin to Latin, studied by aficionados, but nevermore a lingua franca shared within a community. Magan represents those few of his contemporaries who have grown up with Irish as well as English in urban areas by immersion, and a slim hope sustains itself that this method may nurture perfectly bilingual users to speak Gaelige “naturally.”
Living far apart from his Dublin upbringing, Magan built a grass-roofed dwelling and lives among his bees, hens and vegetables. Sounds as if yet one more Thoreau, true. But Magan does not romanticize his vision of the true inhabitants of this swath of rural endurance. For these forces survive in the essential force within Gaeilge, which, after enduring for ages, now scatters its treasure-troves of meaning, so that Irish itself risks simplification in its definitions and nuances.
Thirty-Two Words for Field: Lost Words of the Irish Landscape , as its title indicates, expands this vocabulary that is fast being lost, full of sights, scenes, smells and touches of the turf, surf and sky entangled as inherited within Gaeilge, and often Hiberno-English. He turns from terse modern dictionary entries, seeking out words as paths beyond the empirical confines of our mental expression. He begins by acknowledging how many of us long for a connection to an “elemental, place-based culture” which defies verbal parameters. This evolution suits the student of Irish; it developed in a “pre-rational” era.
Heady as this claim appears, Magan spans wide territory within his compact topical sections. For instance, he starts with techno-funk, evokes the legendary hero Cú Chulainn, brings in William Burroughs with Irvine Welsh, roams past the possibilities of “fly agaric” mushrooms, the long-ago impacts of meteor showers on Irish myth and the commentary of Pliny the Elder concerning comets. A few in Magan’s audience may recognize his affinity to the late Kerry poet-philosopher John Moriarty. He did for a previous generation what Magan does now, delving into lore to reveal a lode which may be crafted into tools to direct and inspire today’s wandering souls.
However, Moriarty gravitated towards legends from across the globe; Magan digs deeper into the rooted language. He gains the advantage of fluency from a far younger age than many who must struggle to master this difficult language, in both its archaic and contemporary forms, its dialects and their unsurprisingly locally drawn references to particular marine or mountain, field or forested locales. Tim Robinson mapped the Aran Islands and Connemara by their webs of place-names. It’s a shame that what he preserved from the Irish West contrasts with what’s silenced as the elderly die off in other nooks of Ireland, their farms sold as holiday homes.
Moriarty, Robinson and Magan demonstrate the dependence of thought-explication upon language well-learned. Those who’ve taken pains to gain a lived familiarity with Irish will benefit from Magan’s revelations, and it’s to be hoped that an Irish generation raised more among suburban sprawl than rustic retreats may excavate deeply its emerging entanglement, albeit attenuated. Today, Irish drifts within city cafes and online chat as Gaeilge attracts aspirants.
Even those who cannot tell a shamrock from a four-leaf clover will enjoy this narrative, which echoes with the fluid, steady delivery of a born storyteller. If some among its purchasers or borrowers find a goad or goal for studying Gaeilge, that testifies to this book’s universal value.
One slight flaw in Thirty-Two Words for Field remains. Not so much an error as a paucity. While Magan mentions a slew of mostly linguistic studies at the end, hundreds of instances of his learning and his applications, cultivated by wide reading and deep thought, lack citation. A few curious readers may want to follow up, say, his sources for this next train of thought and deed. Magan adapts “flour-sprinkled speakers” to analyze “nodal patterns” as an experiment to discern a native speaker of the languages he knows. He reports that the pressure of wave cycles may differ between a higher frequency for Chinese, then English, Irish and Hungarian in that order. Although this adds up to only a half-octave range, it’s discernible to human ears.
This exemplifies Magan’s creative approach and engaging presentation—even if it leaves one wondering about this flour-sprinkled experiment, and his next claim that Irish works better to repel stray dogs, even in Latin America. Such setups would make a great documentanchán Magan
first appeared in Spectrum Culture, 22 May, 2022.
In the middle of Ireland today, another author pursues his own investigation of the landscape around his native haunts. Known for his travelogues and documentaries, Manchán Magan reflects, in neatly composed chapters of about 1,500 words each, upon the blend of language and insight which connected his ancestors to their world for 4,000 years. In its latest form, the native Irish tongue of Gaeilge survives still, albeit as an endangered one, with anywhere from 20,000 to 70,000 daily speakers left. Although compulsory in state school, it may evolve into a standard of communication akin to Latin, studied by aficionados, but nevermore a lingua franca shared within a community. Magan represents those few of his contemporaries who have grown up with Irish as well as English in urban areas by immersion, and a slim hope sustains itself that this method may nurture perfectly bilingual users to speak Gaelige “naturally.”
Living far apart from his Dublin upbringing, Magan built a grass-roofed dwelling and lives among his bees, hens and vegetables. Sounds as if yet one more Thoreau, true. But Magan does not romanticize his vision of the true inhabitants of this swath of rural endurance. For these forces survive in the essential force within Gaeilge, which, after enduring for ages, now scatters its treasure-troves of meaning, so that Irish itself risks simplification in its definitions and nuances.
Thirty-Two Words for Field: Lost Words of the Irish Landscape , as its title indicates, expands this vocabulary that is fast being lost, full of sights, scenes, smells and touches of the turf, surf and sky entangled as inherited within Gaeilge, and often Hiberno-English. He turns from terse modern dictionary entries, seeking out words as paths beyond the empirical confines of our mental expression. He begins by acknowledging how many of us long for a connection to an “elemental, place-based culture” which defies verbal parameters. This evolution suits the student of Irish; it developed in a “pre-rational” era.
Heady as this claim appears, Magan spans wide territory within his compact topical sections. For instance, he starts with techno-funk, evokes the legendary hero Cú Chulainn, brings in William Burroughs with Irvine Welsh, roams past the possibilities of “fly agaric” mushrooms, the long-ago impacts of meteor showers on Irish myth and the commentary of Pliny the Elder concerning comets. A few in Magan’s audience may recognize his affinity to the late Kerry poet-philosopher John Moriarty. He did for a previous generation what Magan does now, delving into lore to reveal a lode which may be crafted into tools to direct and inspire today’s wandering souls.
However, Moriarty gravitated towards legends from across the globe; Magan digs deeper into the rooted language. He gains the advantage of fluency from a far younger age than many who must struggle to master this difficult language, in both its archaic and contemporary forms, its dialects and their unsurprisingly locally drawn references to particular marine or mountain, field or forested locales. Tim Robinson mapped the Aran Islands and Connemara by their webs of place-names. It’s a shame that what he preserved from the Irish West contrasts with what’s silenced as the elderly die off in other nooks of Ireland, their farms sold as holiday homes.
Moriarty, Robinson and Magan demonstrate the dependence of thought-explication upon language well-learned. Those who’ve taken pains to gain a lived familiarity with Irish will benefit from Magan’s revelations, and it’s to be hoped that an Irish generation raised more among suburban sprawl than rustic retreats may excavate deeply its emerging entanglement, albeit attenuated. Today, Irish drifts within city cafes and online chat as Gaeilge attracts aspirants.
Even those who cannot tell a shamrock from a four-leaf clover will enjoy this narrative, which echoes with the fluid, steady delivery of a born storyteller. If some among its purchasers or borrowers find a goad or goal for studying Gaeilge, that testifies to this book’s universal value.
One slight flaw in Thirty-Two Words for Field remains. Not so much an error as a paucity. While Magan mentions a slew of mostly linguistic studies at the end, hundreds of instances of his learning and his applications, cultivated by wide reading and deep thought, lack citation. A few curious readers may want to follow up, say, his sources for this next train of thought and deed. Magan adapts “flour-sprinkled speakers” to analyze “nodal patterns” as an experiment to discern a native speaker of the languages he knows. He reports that the pressure of wave cycles may differ between a higher frequency for Chinese, then English, Irish and Hungarian in that order. Although this adds up to only a half-octave range, it’s discernible to human ears.
This exemplifies Magan’s creative approach and engaging presentation—even if it leaves one wondering about this flour-sprinkled experiment, and his next claim that Irish works better to repel stray dogs, even in Latin America. Such setups would make a great documentanchán Magan
first appeared in Spectrum Culture, 22 May, 2022.
February 5, 2021
Spoiled with books for Christmas and birthday presents (Capricorn!), Manchán Magan's new book was my first read of 2021.
I loved it.
I would probably have been delighted with lists of obscure Irish words and their etymologies and meanings, but it was that and then so much more. Without taking itself too seriously, it's a tumble through language, history, folklore, geography, mythology, social change, spirituality, mysticism, and our perception of our environment. He often turned to mourning the dying of the language, but he remained funny, thoughtful, and joyful in sharing his anecdotes, folk-histories, and abstract pondering.
I loved it.
I would probably have been delighted with lists of obscure Irish words and their etymologies and meanings, but it was that and then so much more. Without taking itself too seriously, it's a tumble through language, history, folklore, geography, mythology, social change, spirituality, mysticism, and our perception of our environment. He often turned to mourning the dying of the language, but he remained funny, thoughtful, and joyful in sharing his anecdotes, folk-histories, and abstract pondering.
December 12, 2020
The first few chapters felt a little too similar to Motherfoclóir for me, but once it finds its groove, it really sets itself apart. I love how the relationship between the language and the land is explored. I’ve always been intrigued by the idea that our brains have trouble processing concepts unless we have words for them, and this book introduces a whole host of natural relationships I’d never considered. It’s almost an ecological work more than a linguistic one.
October 24, 2025
Leabhar lán draíocht, let's make Ireland Pagan again
July 16, 2021
Magan is likeable, passionate, and provides a very romantic view of the Irish language, which is very often beautiful, thoughtful, and poetic. However, he loses the plot by focusing on his own personal theories about Irish etymology that are based on little fact or real research. My reading of this book was also a bit soured when an article he wrote in the Times came out as I was about halfway through the book. The article — which discussed Irish built heritage — was riddled with errors, and caused an outcry amongst many Irish archaeologists (whom I very much respect!). Magan also refrains from including a glossary or publishing an audio version of the book, which would make the language he seeks to preserve infinitely more accessible.
August 23, 2024
I thought this was just going to be a miscellany but it was, at its best, so much more. A meditation on heritage, racial memory and the relationship with the land. Lovely.
January 3, 2021
Wonderful book that is much about language as it is about Irish landscape and folklore. It is a compelling collection of Irish oral history that is quickly being lost.
It is vital reading for anyone interested in Irish culture. The authors knowledge of the Irish language is incredible yet he has the humility to admit he is not an academic in the area. After reading this book, I have renewed interest in my local area and aim to find out more about local folk stories.
It is vital reading for anyone interested in Irish culture. The authors knowledge of the Irish language is incredible yet he has the humility to admit he is not an academic in the area. After reading this book, I have renewed interest in my local area and aim to find out more about local folk stories.
November 8, 2024
I am not a native speaker of Irish and my introduction to the language itself came from Derry Girls and an interest in my ancestors. I love languages however and I love communication, and this was as much a homage to Irish and Ireland as it is a love language to storytelling and interconnection in the world. Manchàn Mayan is a delightful storyteller and I’ll be rereading this again.
February 2, 2022
Lyrical and fascinating! I really enjoyed getting an insight into the Irish language and you can feel the author's overwhelming love and wish to preserve it. This is definitely more of a poetic exploration of the language than necessarily a deeply researched work of linguistics. Occasionally he would throw a statement out that I wish had some more sourcing or context given for how he's drawn it (other than just, "I thought about it and decided it is so") and some chapters had a tendency to be quite list heavy, but my rating reflects the sheer enjoyment I had while reading.
November 16, 2021
Would have been a good book about the meanings behind Irish words if the author didn't add so much of his own BS from pure speculation. At the end of it you don't know whether to believe anything he says.
September 24, 2022
Foirfeacht!
June 6, 2022
“iarmhaireacht” = the loneliness you feel at sunrise when you are the only person awake and experience an existential pang of disconnection, of not belonging.
A highly discursive and idiosyncratic, somewhat mystical look at words and word meanings that have faded or disappeared from Irish, a language deeply rooted in the natural environment and in a mythology of a hidden reality, as the traditional way of life of its speakers has been altered and today’s Irish speaker is more urban and specifically modern.
Magan wants here to demonstrate the ancient nature of the Irish language and its multi-faceted webs of meaning built up over thousands of years of use, which are being stripped down as Irish is learnt and used in social and geographical contexts quite apart from those in which it developed. One might argue that all languages evolve and it’s useless to stand about decrying the new forms yours is inevitably taking, but Magan bemoans what is being lost:
“When they use the term ailse for ‘cancer’, they are unlikely to know that it is also a disparaging term for a particularly mischievous form of fairy, since modern dictionaries no longer include it… That a new generation of urban learners is studying Irish is a positive thing, and it’s probably best not to mention that they are learning a ghost form of Irish lacking nuance.”
At times Magan goes so far afield in his theorizing about language in general and aspects of Irish specifically that it’s hard to credit his ideas (and as he admits in the afterword, he’s not an academic) however it’s overall an entertainingly passionate work. My favorite bits that I picked up from it are:
“iarmhaireacht” = the loneliness you feel at sunrise when you are the only person awake and experience an existential pang of disconnection, of not belonging.
“alltar” = the netherworld closely shadowing our physical world, the “ceantar”, which still means a physical place.
“fuadach” used to mean carried off by fairies, now refers to criminal abductions.
“cosán an ghiorria” = a woman’s cleavage. Literally, “the hare’s path.”
“súpláil” = sucking a nipple for pleasure. (Magan may be a language reactionary but he’s no prude!)
“bladhmann” = steam rising from a fermented haystack, or idle boasting
“Go mbeidh cac bó agat go deo” is a blessing on a farmer, literally meaning “May you have cow dung forever”.
Magan ends the work with a blessing said to be from St Gall but likely not, which I like very much so will likewise end this review with it:
“Tessurc marb bíu. Ar díring, ar goth-sring, ar att díchinn, ar fuilib híairn, ar ul loscas tene, ar ub hithes cú. Rop achuh rú, crinas teoracnoe, crete teoraféthe fichte, benim a galar ar fiuch fuili guil Fuil nirub att rée rop slán.”
… which means …
“I save the dead-alive. Against belching, against javelin-cord, against unkind swelling, against iron wounds, against an edge fire burned, against a point a dog bites. Let him be sharply-red, three nuts withering, believe that three sinews are woven. I strike his illness, I overcome wounds lamenting of blood. Let it not be an endless swelling. Let him be healthy.”
January 17, 2022
I studied utilitarian Irish until I was 18 at school, revisited it briefly in my 20s in London only to quickly give it up again due to the dryness of the lessons, and am now watching from the sidelines (jealously) from my home in Brussels, as the language takes on an elevated status at the EU, creating an influx of Gaeilgeoirí at the heart of Europe.
But none of my dalliances with the native tongue have ever come close to framing it as beautifully as this book. My favourite part of learning languages has always been the idioms, which often point you to the root of the culture and reveal the magic of the form. This book is loaded with such turns of phrase, explained in lovely English, which helped me understand how far we've travelled from those roots.
Not only that: Magan has made a powerful case for some of the more esoteric forms of Irish mythology and culture - fairies for example - and their connection with the modern world.
Take the words "cáithnín" ("a speck of dust, a husk of corn, a snowflake, a subatomic particle and a miniscule smidge of butter, or anything tiny that gets into the eye and irritates it") - or "scim" ("a fairy film that covers the land, or a magical vision, or, best and most alluring of all, succumbing to the supernatural world through sleep").
Magan proposes that these ancient words, associated traditionally with the Otherworld, are as effective in describing the mysterious patterns of quantum physics as they are the mischief of fairies. Did people hundreds or thousands of years ago have some sense of the underlying transience of existence, with electrons existing then not-existing, appearing and reappearing, seemingly at random? The dominance of Catholicism seems to have overridden any of this ancient knowledge.
I was also fascinated by the proximity of the Irish language to Sanskrit and Arabic, with which it appears to share more in common than with modern European languages (script aside). I was aware of some of the overlaps, but it's laid out wonderfully in this book. It makes the anti-immigrant attitude among some Irish people even more intolerable, knowing we probably travelled an historical passage familiar to many Syrian or Iraqi migrants, except thousands of years ago.
These were not the sorts of things I thought I'd be pondering when I bought this book, which I'd recommend to non-Irish people too. Go mbeidh cac bó agat go deo - may you always have cow dung :)
But none of my dalliances with the native tongue have ever come close to framing it as beautifully as this book. My favourite part of learning languages has always been the idioms, which often point you to the root of the culture and reveal the magic of the form. This book is loaded with such turns of phrase, explained in lovely English, which helped me understand how far we've travelled from those roots.
Not only that: Magan has made a powerful case for some of the more esoteric forms of Irish mythology and culture - fairies for example - and their connection with the modern world.
Take the words "cáithnín" ("a speck of dust, a husk of corn, a snowflake, a subatomic particle and a miniscule smidge of butter, or anything tiny that gets into the eye and irritates it") - or "scim" ("a fairy film that covers the land, or a magical vision, or, best and most alluring of all, succumbing to the supernatural world through sleep").
Magan proposes that these ancient words, associated traditionally with the Otherworld, are as effective in describing the mysterious patterns of quantum physics as they are the mischief of fairies. Did people hundreds or thousands of years ago have some sense of the underlying transience of existence, with electrons existing then not-existing, appearing and reappearing, seemingly at random? The dominance of Catholicism seems to have overridden any of this ancient knowledge.
I was also fascinated by the proximity of the Irish language to Sanskrit and Arabic, with which it appears to share more in common than with modern European languages (script aside). I was aware of some of the overlaps, but it's laid out wonderfully in this book. It makes the anti-immigrant attitude among some Irish people even more intolerable, knowing we probably travelled an historical passage familiar to many Syrian or Iraqi migrants, except thousands of years ago.
These were not the sorts of things I thought I'd be pondering when I bought this book, which I'd recommend to non-Irish people too. Go mbeidh cac bó agat go deo - may you always have cow dung :)
December 10, 2025
Really took my time with this one, partly out of choice partly out of my control. Fantastic book with really amazing insights into the old ways of living in Ireland, how we spoke about the land, how those words deeply connected us to the land.
It was a really interesting time for me to read this after being away for such a long time. It made me excited to be back home and to explore my own experiences with Ireland. I’ve been lucky enough to get out west a couple times since being back and carrying with me the stuff I had learned from this book it made those trips all the more special.
It was a really interesting time for me to read this after being away for such a long time. It made me excited to be back home and to explore my own experiences with Ireland. I’ve been lucky enough to get out west a couple times since being back and carrying with me the stuff I had learned from this book it made those trips all the more special.
March 5, 2024
This was a fun and fascinating look into how language shapes our perception of the world. It also has interesting commentary on how preserving a dying language helps to relate to our surroundings.
January 2, 2026
I’ve always loved how the German language has incredibly specific words for little everyday things. I can’t believe I never knew that it was the same for Irish. New found appreciation for the language and think I’ll refer back to this book a lot in future.
June 9, 2024
My main thought here is that Magan needs to learn more languages, maybe that way he'll stop preaching to anyone that'll listen that Irish is Super Unique(™).
Let me explain: Irish is unique, because it is indeed A Unique Language. But the phenomenon of Irish having specific words for specific things (sensations, landscapes, memories, acts)? It's not unique to Irish, it's unique to every single language out there. Irish may have 32 words for field, but Latvian has a word for a specific weather condition that includes wet snow, light rain, and a dark and gloomy atmosphere all at once (slapjdraņķis) and Italian has a word for the drowsy sensation you get after a big meal (abbiocco). Other languages also have super specific words for particular sensations, colours, landscapes, traditional chores, celebrations, animals, and literally anything else in the world. Author Ilan Stavans once said that to have a word is to exist and be represented; it stands to reason that all languages aim to represent their reality as accurately as possible. Why, then, did I just read over 300 pages of Machan extolling on How Amazing Irish Was for having Specific Words™?
I am, naturally, all for admiring a language and thinking it's great. I love discovering new words that involve new ways of looking at things and reflecting about the world that surrounds us, so in that sense this book really worked for me (apparently the sea can have a slight phosphorescence, who knew). However, I didn't appreciate the preachy tone of it throughout it all, and I do think the writer was reaching enough he could have made the Flexibility Olympics.
To start with, the focus of this book was all over the place: he took words from Old Irish and contemporary Irish indistinguishably, and for no apparent reason; and a lot of each chapter was just him enumerating different words and their translations. What was the story we were telling here? If I wanted a list of words, I'd have opened a dictionary.
Secondly, he repeatedly focused on the mythological/magical/otherworldly believes of pre-Christianity Ireland, or of pagan rituals reflected in the words; his argument can be summed up as "Ireland is magical and the Thuatha Dé Danann will show up any moment now". Once again, I love a good myth and adore folklore, but I do also think that if you're trying to promote knowledge and usage of a language, you also want that language to feel like a contemporary vehicle for communication in a modern society. I'm really sorry, but if you keep selling the Irish language as the perfect vehicle with which to chant blessings because it's a super old language, you're basically fetizishing your own language and your own culture as this Magical Old Timey Thing that we should all go back to. Is that the intention? Because I don't think so.
And lastly, this could have done with an editor armed with a red pen. I know I say this too often, but I also deeply believe that an editor should offer opinions on How A Book Is Organised. This book had no plot and no storyline. All of the chapters ended super abruptly for no good reason. You're quoting a poem? Explain why it's relevant. You have no arguments or linking thread to include these collection of random words you like? You don't include them, because they're doing nothing there. It makes no sense to include information that's irrelevant, or that's adding nothing.
Overall, this was a mess of words (very interesting!) and concepts (equally so!) all jumbled together with no focus, no central argument (unless the argument was "let's preach for a return to the Old Ways", in which case... No comment), and terrible organisation. A very easy read, but not a joyful one.
2.5/5.
Let me explain: Irish is unique, because it is indeed A Unique Language. But the phenomenon of Irish having specific words for specific things (sensations, landscapes, memories, acts)? It's not unique to Irish, it's unique to every single language out there. Irish may have 32 words for field, but Latvian has a word for a specific weather condition that includes wet snow, light rain, and a dark and gloomy atmosphere all at once (slapjdraņķis) and Italian has a word for the drowsy sensation you get after a big meal (abbiocco). Other languages also have super specific words for particular sensations, colours, landscapes, traditional chores, celebrations, animals, and literally anything else in the world. Author Ilan Stavans once said that to have a word is to exist and be represented; it stands to reason that all languages aim to represent their reality as accurately as possible. Why, then, did I just read over 300 pages of Machan extolling on How Amazing Irish Was for having Specific Words™?
I am, naturally, all for admiring a language and thinking it's great. I love discovering new words that involve new ways of looking at things and reflecting about the world that surrounds us, so in that sense this book really worked for me (apparently the sea can have a slight phosphorescence, who knew). However, I didn't appreciate the preachy tone of it throughout it all, and I do think the writer was reaching enough he could have made the Flexibility Olympics.
To start with, the focus of this book was all over the place: he took words from Old Irish and contemporary Irish indistinguishably, and for no apparent reason; and a lot of each chapter was just him enumerating different words and their translations. What was the story we were telling here? If I wanted a list of words, I'd have opened a dictionary.
Secondly, he repeatedly focused on the mythological/magical/otherworldly believes of pre-Christianity Ireland, or of pagan rituals reflected in the words; his argument can be summed up as "Ireland is magical and the Thuatha Dé Danann will show up any moment now". Once again, I love a good myth and adore folklore, but I do also think that if you're trying to promote knowledge and usage of a language, you also want that language to feel like a contemporary vehicle for communication in a modern society. I'm really sorry, but if you keep selling the Irish language as the perfect vehicle with which to chant blessings because it's a super old language, you're basically fetizishing your own language and your own culture as this Magical Old Timey Thing that we should all go back to. Is that the intention? Because I don't think so.
And lastly, this could have done with an editor armed with a red pen. I know I say this too often, but I also deeply believe that an editor should offer opinions on How A Book Is Organised. This book had no plot and no storyline. All of the chapters ended super abruptly for no good reason. You're quoting a poem? Explain why it's relevant. You have no arguments or linking thread to include these collection of random words you like? You don't include them, because they're doing nothing there. It makes no sense to include information that's irrelevant, or that's adding nothing.
Overall, this was a mess of words (very interesting!) and concepts (equally so!) all jumbled together with no focus, no central argument (unless the argument was "let's preach for a return to the Old Ways", in which case... No comment), and terrible organisation. A very easy read, but not a joyful one.
2.5/5.
January 2, 2021
Absolutely loved this book, and its thoughtful marriage of culture, worldview, and language. The relationship between Irish cosmology and the way the native language describes the world around you was brought to life carefully and with nuance. I found several connections with mythology that I knew, but a deepening of knowledge through a sort of immersive linguistics offers itself to the reader. I think it would be a worthwhile and fascinating read even for someone who had never been to Ireland, but the more you know about the places, plants, seaweeds, the more you're able to appreciate the wealth of tradition, story, and nuance presented. I spent much of the book saying to one friend or another, "Did you know there's a word for you?" and reading them sections. I ordered three more copies before I was even done, because I knew several of my language nerd friends or mythology-loving friends would delight in it; I know of few higher praises for a book than to joyously share it.
April 17, 2023
A fascinating account of our nation’s language and the history behind it. Unfortunately marred by dragging first hand accounts by a self-absorbed author who seems to lavish his own excellence and superiority to others over actually teaching the reader about the words themselves. Could not finish unfortunately.
December 31, 2020
Well worth reading if you have an interest in the Irish language
I loved the ‘language’ aspect of the book, but when he tried to link it to our understanding of modern physics, it came across as being a bit wishy-washy. Still, a thoroughly engrossing read!
I loved the ‘language’ aspect of the book, but when he tried to link it to our understanding of modern physics, it came across as being a bit wishy-washy. Still, a thoroughly engrossing read!
June 9, 2024
So, no surprise I absolutely loved this.
The book is borderline romantic in the way that Manchán and, by extension, our ancestors look at the world, and just how many ways there are to look at a hole, how the hole got there, how the word for that hole came to be, and how the word for that word came to be.
Much of what Manchán writes explores the common sense in an “illogical” language. This is maybe best conveyed in the ‘Land’ chapter which again calls back to the idea of rejecting a “practical” language in favour of one that is more nuanced and historical, especially when English was brought to Ireland and Irish was subsequently banned and branded as perverse, despite being more sophisticated. Even the titular concept of fields - which in this day and age are either considered a financial asset by farmers and landlords, a biodiversity wasteland to ecologists or “nature” to the less engaged - are given reverence along with the animals, people, rituals, and practices forming a patchwork of history.
The word/phase that stands out to me the most when reviewing this is “tarraing anuas”, meaning groundswell and comparing this to the introduction of new topics in a conversation, because that is exactly how the book feels, and also how I felt about ‘Listen to the Land Speak’, where in my review for that I said that “chapters feel more like breathers” and coincidentally “as if the topics were swelling like waves”. This is very much the case in ‘Thirty Two Words for Field’, and it’s impressive how Manchán weaves words, meaning and folklore together considering just how many words are used in the book, and not always from Irish.
In my personal life, I joke a lot about what the concept of “Protestant guilt” might be, as I continue decolonising my brain from what I call “ideological displacement”. Again, in my “Listen to the Land Speak” review I talked about how being raised in a loyalist environment felt like things were being hidden from me, but what I realised from reading this book is that what has been hidden might already be lost. Much like my interest in nature, I couldn’t have picked a worse time to suddenly be interested in an endangered topic.
As an extracurricular, I wanted to find out the Irish name of some notable locations around me to see what it would reveal about the area, but I had no such luck from searching online and I was weary of the fact that the information I am looking forward has probably passed through a loyalist filter, a Christian filter or simply vanished from oral tradition with time. Then, I asked some people who might know and I got “why are places called anything?” which heightened that feeling of “iarmhaireacht.” But there is a lot of hope as well, that a country with such an old history that dates back thousands of years and across seas (I joked about the book proving that Ireland is on the latin belt) seems to be having a renaissance as technology advances and the language becomes more popular. Near the end of the book Manchán sort of shys away from having full conviction in his findings, but the popularity of this book and it’s follow-ups just go to show how Manchán singular vision has resonated with natives, linguists and even “lá breá” like myself.
My favourite findings:
Eadra - late morning milking after a spell of early grazing, bout of late-morning idle gossiping or loitering once chores have been done
Réidhleán - field for games or dancing
Diláthair - absence felt when something or somewhere has been depopulated or destroyed by other human beings, like coral reef, glaciers or this language
Glas Gaibhleann
The book is borderline romantic in the way that Manchán and, by extension, our ancestors look at the world, and just how many ways there are to look at a hole, how the hole got there, how the word for that hole came to be, and how the word for that word came to be.
Much of what Manchán writes explores the common sense in an “illogical” language. This is maybe best conveyed in the ‘Land’ chapter which again calls back to the idea of rejecting a “practical” language in favour of one that is more nuanced and historical, especially when English was brought to Ireland and Irish was subsequently banned and branded as perverse, despite being more sophisticated. Even the titular concept of fields - which in this day and age are either considered a financial asset by farmers and landlords, a biodiversity wasteland to ecologists or “nature” to the less engaged - are given reverence along with the animals, people, rituals, and practices forming a patchwork of history.
The word/phase that stands out to me the most when reviewing this is “tarraing anuas”, meaning groundswell and comparing this to the introduction of new topics in a conversation, because that is exactly how the book feels, and also how I felt about ‘Listen to the Land Speak’, where in my review for that I said that “chapters feel more like breathers” and coincidentally “as if the topics were swelling like waves”. This is very much the case in ‘Thirty Two Words for Field’, and it’s impressive how Manchán weaves words, meaning and folklore together considering just how many words are used in the book, and not always from Irish.
In my personal life, I joke a lot about what the concept of “Protestant guilt” might be, as I continue decolonising my brain from what I call “ideological displacement”. Again, in my “Listen to the Land Speak” review I talked about how being raised in a loyalist environment felt like things were being hidden from me, but what I realised from reading this book is that what has been hidden might already be lost. Much like my interest in nature, I couldn’t have picked a worse time to suddenly be interested in an endangered topic.
As an extracurricular, I wanted to find out the Irish name of some notable locations around me to see what it would reveal about the area, but I had no such luck from searching online and I was weary of the fact that the information I am looking forward has probably passed through a loyalist filter, a Christian filter or simply vanished from oral tradition with time. Then, I asked some people who might know and I got “why are places called anything?” which heightened that feeling of “iarmhaireacht.” But there is a lot of hope as well, that a country with such an old history that dates back thousands of years and across seas (I joked about the book proving that Ireland is on the latin belt) seems to be having a renaissance as technology advances and the language becomes more popular. Near the end of the book Manchán sort of shys away from having full conviction in his findings, but the popularity of this book and it’s follow-ups just go to show how Manchán singular vision has resonated with natives, linguists and even “lá breá” like myself.
My favourite findings:
Eadra - late morning milking after a spell of early grazing, bout of late-morning idle gossiping or loitering once chores have been done
Réidhleán - field for games or dancing
Diláthair - absence felt when something or somewhere has been depopulated or destroyed by other human beings, like coral reef, glaciers or this language
Glas Gaibhleann
July 31, 2024
A reflective history on Irish language told through a mix of folklore, personal history and experience, and etymology, this book highlights the importance of our connection to the land and the world around us in the Irish language. It showed me how my own education in Irish lacked a lot of the context to understand the language better. Words like cailleach that we were taught at Hallowe’en to mean ‘witch’ have such varied meanings depending on the context.
Magan highlighted the historical importance of the cow in the country and showed how it was reflected in so many ways in the language.
This books also really reminds me in ways of Braiding Sweetgrass. The way Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about languages not just having different words and grammar but entirely different ways of looking at the world is similar to what Manchán Magan is saying. In Kimmerer’s experience, lots words from the natural world that are nouns in English (mountain, river) are verbs in her native language (to be a mountain, to be a river) because her ancestors recognised these mountains and rivers as alive. In Irish, Mangan explains similar things through the word ‘leasú’ which in modern Irish is translated as fertiliser, an amendment or a food preserver, but also had original meanings of “to improve, to educate and repair” (amongst others). From verbs to nouns. He also talks about giving directions in English vs. Irish - “I had to orient myself very differently…In Irish I had to take account of the position of the sun. I couldn’t say I was heading ‘up the road’ or ‘back to someone’s house’ or ‘into town’. Instead … I would be heading siar ó dheas (‘south-west’) along the road…”
This shows just some of the ways that teaching Irish becomes difficult in this country. I started learning Irish as an 11 year old in secondary school, and my view of the world had already been taught and understood in English. To shift one’s mindset so totally to speak another language forces a person to engage with the world in a different way. This is the beauty of this book to me. It explained some of the gaps in my teaching as to why these languages were built so differently.
It’s not a perfect book in terms of the writing or editing. There were some geographical or scientific anecdotes that I sometimes felt were unnecessary and wandered a bit from the point, and became less about the language. I also felt the book lost some of its focus in the final third or quarter, when Magan had finished most of the narrative of the book but still had a few points he wanted to make and so he tacked on a few extra short chapters at the end that felt a bit shoehorned in.
Overall though, I had such a good experience reading this and I’d recommend it to anyone interested in the history and development of languages, the Irish language and culture specifically, and the historically minded reader.
Magan highlighted the historical importance of the cow in the country and showed how it was reflected in so many ways in the language.
This books also really reminds me in ways of Braiding Sweetgrass. The way Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about languages not just having different words and grammar but entirely different ways of looking at the world is similar to what Manchán Magan is saying. In Kimmerer’s experience, lots words from the natural world that are nouns in English (mountain, river) are verbs in her native language (to be a mountain, to be a river) because her ancestors recognised these mountains and rivers as alive. In Irish, Mangan explains similar things through the word ‘leasú’ which in modern Irish is translated as fertiliser, an amendment or a food preserver, but also had original meanings of “to improve, to educate and repair” (amongst others). From verbs to nouns. He also talks about giving directions in English vs. Irish - “I had to orient myself very differently…In Irish I had to take account of the position of the sun. I couldn’t say I was heading ‘up the road’ or ‘back to someone’s house’ or ‘into town’. Instead … I would be heading siar ó dheas (‘south-west’) along the road…”
This shows just some of the ways that teaching Irish becomes difficult in this country. I started learning Irish as an 11 year old in secondary school, and my view of the world had already been taught and understood in English. To shift one’s mindset so totally to speak another language forces a person to engage with the world in a different way. This is the beauty of this book to me. It explained some of the gaps in my teaching as to why these languages were built so differently.
It’s not a perfect book in terms of the writing or editing. There were some geographical or scientific anecdotes that I sometimes felt were unnecessary and wandered a bit from the point, and became less about the language. I also felt the book lost some of its focus in the final third or quarter, when Magan had finished most of the narrative of the book but still had a few points he wanted to make and so he tacked on a few extra short chapters at the end that felt a bit shoehorned in.
Overall though, I had such a good experience reading this and I’d recommend it to anyone interested in the history and development of languages, the Irish language and culture specifically, and the historically minded reader.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 180 reviews