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West: Tales of the Lost Lands
Walter Map, Layamon, William Langland, Michael Drayton, William Shenstone, Sabine Baring-Gould, A.E. Housman, J.R.R Tolkien, Geoffrey Hill, Simon Evans, Bruce Chatwin, all experienced an epiphany in The Lost Lands of western Britain. And so did one other writer - Martin Wall.
The Welsh call 'The Lost Lands' the border counties of England such as Shropshire, Cheshire, Herefordshire, and Gloucestershire, roughly the area of the old Welsh Marches. Martin Wall explores the mysterious, liminal energy of the West and its effect on literature, and upon himself.
From an early age Martin acknowledged a lost psychical-energetic or spiritual identification with the land, as Alfred Watkins had proposed – but that this connection could be re-established, if only we made a supreme conscious effort. How were the lands 'lost'?
The author examines the failed uprising of Boudicca and the killing of Penda in this context. In the 7th century, Oswy's night attack on Cynddylan's royal hall of Llys Pengwern, outside Shrewsbury he describes as 'the end of a civilization which had endured for time beyond memory...the end of Celtic resistance in the lowlands.' From this point Martin Wall explores what survives of the Celtic culture and beliefs to the present-day. It is a personal, exciting and wonderful journey, encompassing as it does Diana the Huntress, King Cnut, C. G. Yung, the Cwpan Nanteos, and the Severn River pirates.
Anyone who has stood on Glastonbury Tor at dawn will have felt something akin to the hidden power and meanings explored here.
The Welsh call 'The Lost Lands' the border counties of England such as Shropshire, Cheshire, Herefordshire, and Gloucestershire, roughly the area of the old Welsh Marches. Martin Wall explores the mysterious, liminal energy of the West and its effect on literature, and upon himself.
From an early age Martin acknowledged a lost psychical-energetic or spiritual identification with the land, as Alfred Watkins had proposed – but that this connection could be re-established, if only we made a supreme conscious effort. How were the lands 'lost'?
The author examines the failed uprising of Boudicca and the killing of Penda in this context. In the 7th century, Oswy's night attack on Cynddylan's royal hall of Llys Pengwern, outside Shrewsbury he describes as 'the end of a civilization which had endured for time beyond memory...the end of Celtic resistance in the lowlands.' From this point Martin Wall explores what survives of the Celtic culture and beliefs to the present-day. It is a personal, exciting and wonderful journey, encompassing as it does Diana the Huntress, King Cnut, C. G. Yung, the Cwpan Nanteos, and the Severn River pirates.
Anyone who has stood on Glastonbury Tor at dawn will have felt something akin to the hidden power and meanings explored here.
- GenresNonfiction
288 pages, Hardcover
Published May 15, 2023
2 people are currently reading
26 people want to read
About the author
Martin Wall
27 books13 followersInherited a strong interest in history legends and mythology, and became precocious in this field, reading and "imagineering" from an early age. In later life I returned to West Mercia, and rediscovered this passion for "land magic", folk tales, and elemental stories. Gradually, out of felt need to preserve the ancient inheritance against the ravages of modern industrial/consumerist culture, I experimented with blending ancient folk tales with my own creations. I am a volunteer guide for several organizations, including the Staffordshire Hoard exhibition. I lecture to local groups on these themes.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 28, 2023
Even more than its predecessor, The Magical History of Britain, West: Tales of the Lost Lands will appeal to those who have the very specific belief that the western midlands of England – Worcestershire, Staffordshire, Shropshire and parts of Warwickshire – are in some way haunted. This belief is manifest throughout the book, which makes no sustained effort to convince the sceptical and will, consequently, have little appeal for those who are not prepared at least to suspend their disbelief until the final page. However, for those who are, if only temporarily, happy to try out Martin Wall’s locally specific mixture of faiths and folklore, there is much to enjoy.
The book is quite content to switch mid chapter – sometimes mid-paragraph – between myth, history, personal memoir and fiction; its intention is synthesis, not analysis. Much of the history is convincing enough and the memoir varies from the touching to the very funny to the frankly bizarre. Some passages will strongly appeal to readers of fiction by Archie Hill, Kerry Hadley-Pryce and Joel Lane.
The oddest things in the book are the overtly fictional chapters. The first of these, narrated by the medieval poet Layamon, is most impressive, reminiscent of the Alan Moore of Voice of the Fire and almost as good: we are left with little doubt that the England of King John, in terms of its human rights record, was little different to Amin’s Uganda or Pol-Pot’s Cambodia. The second, set in Roman times, is the one chapter in the whole book that’s likely to puzzle most readers: its attempt to evoke the collective consciousness of the druidic belief system by switching between first and third person narrative is not wholly successful. The third fictional part, set in a credibly grim near future, is again reminiscent of Alan Moore – though this time of V for Vendetta.
The overall tone of the book is summed up in the word ‘lost’; there’s a sense throughout of things passing and decaying. What exactly is being lost is not always clear: Wall never painted a rose-tinted picture of the area’s past in his previous books and he doesn’t start now. But I sense an anger that the promise of something like Raymond Williams’ ‘common culture’ has grown less attainable over the past forty years. The current collapse of the role of the humanities in education suggests he may not be far wrong.
I live in the same area as Martin Wall and have an attitude to it that’s not entirely unlike his. I could not help but read the book from two widely different perspectives – one, prepared to enjoy its charms and not worry too much whether or not the Goddess Sabrina was in any sense real; the other, all-too aware of the groans and complaints that many parts of it would inspire in the sceptically-minded, evidence-based historian.
If the latter position is yours, perhaps you’d better look elsewhere. However, if you’re closer to the former, you can dive into this one expecting that it will have much to offer.
The book is quite content to switch mid chapter – sometimes mid-paragraph – between myth, history, personal memoir and fiction; its intention is synthesis, not analysis. Much of the history is convincing enough and the memoir varies from the touching to the very funny to the frankly bizarre. Some passages will strongly appeal to readers of fiction by Archie Hill, Kerry Hadley-Pryce and Joel Lane.
The oddest things in the book are the overtly fictional chapters. The first of these, narrated by the medieval poet Layamon, is most impressive, reminiscent of the Alan Moore of Voice of the Fire and almost as good: we are left with little doubt that the England of King John, in terms of its human rights record, was little different to Amin’s Uganda or Pol-Pot’s Cambodia. The second, set in Roman times, is the one chapter in the whole book that’s likely to puzzle most readers: its attempt to evoke the collective consciousness of the druidic belief system by switching between first and third person narrative is not wholly successful. The third fictional part, set in a credibly grim near future, is again reminiscent of Alan Moore – though this time of V for Vendetta.
The overall tone of the book is summed up in the word ‘lost’; there’s a sense throughout of things passing and decaying. What exactly is being lost is not always clear: Wall never painted a rose-tinted picture of the area’s past in his previous books and he doesn’t start now. But I sense an anger that the promise of something like Raymond Williams’ ‘common culture’ has grown less attainable over the past forty years. The current collapse of the role of the humanities in education suggests he may not be far wrong.
I live in the same area as Martin Wall and have an attitude to it that’s not entirely unlike his. I could not help but read the book from two widely different perspectives – one, prepared to enjoy its charms and not worry too much whether or not the Goddess Sabrina was in any sense real; the other, all-too aware of the groans and complaints that many parts of it would inspire in the sceptically-minded, evidence-based historian.
If the latter position is yours, perhaps you’d better look elsewhere. However, if you’re closer to the former, you can dive into this one expecting that it will have much to offer.
April 17, 2023
It was fascinating to read the latest book by Martin Wall entitled "West, tales of lost lands". Although he has often written serious history books themed on one subject, such as "Lost Battlefields of Britain", or "The Anglo-Saxon Age", here, he has thrown off strict academic shackles and takes history on a more personal journey. He uses elements of genuine factual history, personal experiences, gleaned local folklore and family history, to construct a personal vision.
Under the banner of "West", this journey travels all over the history of the West of Britain, both archaeologically but also documenting his own experiences growing up, working and travelling around the West Midlands. This includes accounts of walking and hitch-hiking around the area, into Worcestershire, Wales and beyond and stories of how his family (and himself) came to live on the edge of the Black Country. This effectively sowed the seeds for his lifelong interest in this local history.
In the telling of the tales of "the lost lands", Martin invokes the spirits of many key figures in the varied history of the West Midlands. These include the cave dwelling Saxon scribe Layamon, Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, A.E. Housman, J.R.R Tolkien, Boudicca, Saxon king Penda, Bella in the Wych Elm, Dud Dudley, Dr Plot and Squire Robins. The stories combine to create an esoteric and erudite patchwork of observation and reflections, that form a meditation on the cultural significance of the districts we call home.
Along the way, tales of several local murders are retold, around which his own experiences of the murderous locations are woven, creating a charming sense of past and present, sometimes appearing to meet. This seems to be how the fictional chapters are intended to fit, a brave counterpoint to the factual stories in the book, that assures the reader that this is no simple autobiographical memoir.
It is the theme of memory in the in the history-themed chapters that really resonates and most of the places discussed can be visited today. They will continue on into the future. His observations on these places from the 1970's to today, informed by his sharp knowledge of the history, demonstrates how history surrounds us and that we, at exactly the same time, are a part of it.
Under the banner of "West", this journey travels all over the history of the West of Britain, both archaeologically but also documenting his own experiences growing up, working and travelling around the West Midlands. This includes accounts of walking and hitch-hiking around the area, into Worcestershire, Wales and beyond and stories of how his family (and himself) came to live on the edge of the Black Country. This effectively sowed the seeds for his lifelong interest in this local history.
In the telling of the tales of "the lost lands", Martin invokes the spirits of many key figures in the varied history of the West Midlands. These include the cave dwelling Saxon scribe Layamon, Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould, A.E. Housman, J.R.R Tolkien, Boudicca, Saxon king Penda, Bella in the Wych Elm, Dud Dudley, Dr Plot and Squire Robins. The stories combine to create an esoteric and erudite patchwork of observation and reflections, that form a meditation on the cultural significance of the districts we call home.
Along the way, tales of several local murders are retold, around which his own experiences of the murderous locations are woven, creating a charming sense of past and present, sometimes appearing to meet. This seems to be how the fictional chapters are intended to fit, a brave counterpoint to the factual stories in the book, that assures the reader that this is no simple autobiographical memoir.
It is the theme of memory in the in the history-themed chapters that really resonates and most of the places discussed can be visited today. They will continue on into the future. His observations on these places from the 1970's to today, informed by his sharp knowledge of the history, demonstrates how history surrounds us and that we, at exactly the same time, are a part of it.
January 27, 2025
A phenomenal book on thought, memory, history, identity, and hiraeth. I enjoyed every bit of this and resonated quite deeply with many of the themes. Martin Wall understands the poignant longing and quiet resolve of the idea of the Lost Lands, both dreamed of and departed, and I felt a great deal of good emotions as I read through these essay-chapters.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews