“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.” ( )