"Stories are tapestries finely woven", each thread a strand of memory, place, and time, interlacing to form something whole and alive. With a spiritual warp and a weft of kinship, The Plain of Pillars is both the echo of a song from the deep past and an earnest warning of present and coming times. D. Firth Griffith conjures this story from sleepy cultural depths, breathing it into being with prose that pulses—its rhythm older than ink, older than paper, older than the written word itself. It is a rhythm that rises from our collective indigeneity, calling us back to something forgotten but never truly lost.
At its core, this novel is an implicit critique of cultural erasure and colonialism. Though set in a mythic past, The Plain of Pillars resonates powerfully with contemporary struggles—an exploration of indigenous and pre-colonial identities, of land as kin, of mythology as living truth rather than distant fiction. The author's first publication in the world of "fiction" and the first installment in The Rimwalker Series, this novel establishes Firth Griffith as a literary voice deeply invested in animism, cultural preservation, and the intersection of mythology and contemporary thought. His prose is richly poetic, evocative, and immersive—demanding a slow, deliberate reading, one that does not seek to decode but to experience. Those unaccustomed to non-linear, dreamlike storytelling may find the storytelling's cadence a challenge at first, but those willing to surrender to its rhythm will discover a world that breathes, remembers, and reveals itself in layers.
Griffith writes with a kinship worldview just outside the view of dominant modernity, a space forgotten by many but not lost. The characters, shrouded in mist, move through their world as part of its great cycles, embodying the tensions between mortality and divinity, tradition and transformation. The Plain of Pillars is a story of re-membering—of piecing ourselves back together through the land, through ancestral voices, through the knowing of Kinship and Oneness that still lingers in root and stone, wind and water. A blood-beaked scald-crow, the trickster, leads us not with the linear clarity of written history but with the tangled wisdom of myth, where a horse gives birth to a boy, where stones and trees hold memory, where the wind still carries the whispers of gods.
This is not just a Celtic tale retold; it is a tale told as it always was—in rhythm with the land, in dialogue with the unseen. It does not merely speak of the past—it is the past, living and breathing today, prophesying the future and calling out for those who will listen. Be prepared to dream yourself into this cultural ciphering, rhythmic remembering, and poetic prayer set in prose.