Alan Garner and the Friendly Re-write

I found something incredible last night whilst reading British Goblins by Wirt Sikes.  I have previously said how impressed with Alan Garner's writing I am, how much I would like to be able to write like him. I used the example of a story in this book:

A good Book

This is the story I was so impressed with in Alan Garner's Folk Tales:

'Edward Frank and the Friendly Cow

As Edward Frank was coming home one night, he heard something walking towards him, but at first could see nothing.  Suddenly his way was barred by a tall, dismal object which stood in the path before him.
It was a marvellous-thin man, whose head was so high that Edward nearly fell over backwards in his efforts to gaze at it.  His knees knocked together, and his heart sank.  With great difficulty he gasped forth: "In the name of God, what is here?  Turn out of my way, or I will strike thee!"
The giant then disappeared, and the frightened Edward, seeing a cow not far off, went towards her to lean on her, which the cow stood still and permitted him to do.'

This is the version I read last night in Wirt Sikes:

'Such was the apparition which met Edward Frank.  As he was coming home one night he heard something walking towards him, but at first could see nothing.  Suddenly his way was barred by a tall dismal object which stood in the path before him.  It was the ghost of a marvellous thin man, whose head was so high above the observer's line of vision that he nearly fell over backward in his efforts to gaze at it.  His knees knocked together and his heart sank.  With great difficulty he gasped forth, "In the name of God, what is here?  Turn out of my way or I will strike thee!"
The giant ghost then disappeared, and the frightened Edward, seeing a cow not far off, went towards her to lean on her, which the cow stood still and permitted him to do.'

The differences are quite minimal.  Do they count as re-writing?  In re-telling this as a folk-tale Alan Garner has removed the word "ghost", which is debatable, and removed the wording "above the observer's line of vision", which does sound very intrusive.  Mainly he has re-written the story to be a straight narrative about Edward Frank, rather than the reporting of a folk tale told about Edward Frank.

Do these changes account for the effect I was so previously impressed with, of Alan Garner telling one thing, whilst telling you another.  Was this his achievement, or the achievement of the original native Welsh person who told the tale to the folk-lore collector Wirt Sikes?

Was Alan Garner's achievement the selection of this tale, and the placing of it in a frame, with space around it, and calling it Art, which allowed me to think so highly of it?  If I had first read this whilst reading Wirt Sikes, would I have been as impressed?  I don't think I would have, although I would have enjoyed it.  I think it was the separating of the tale from it's wordy anthology home, and placing it in it's own frame which allowed me to appreciate it.  I am not knocking Alan Garner's re-telling of this tale at all, I was just shocked to find how little of it he wrote.  I thought only he could have written that brilliant bit about the cow!  But we have an anonymous interviewee of Wirt Sikes to thank for it. 

Thank you!  I love the story whoever wrote it!

The Lost Book of Fleams Etsy Shop

Here's a wish, perhaps slightly out-of-date, but a true sentiment:

This is For Sale

It is the back of a postcard printed with a photograph:



Girl with Dog

This photograph is for sale now in my Etsy shop!  Yes, Miss Aimson has successfully guided me through setting up an Etsy shop.  At present I have listed some of my vintage and antique photographs which are now up for sale.

The Etsy shop is called The Lost Book of Fleams Gift Emporium.  Or it might be called LostBookofFleamsShop.  It sort of depends on what exactly I filled in where.  I smile because I have no idea what is going on.

Fairies and Wendioges

Today I have been reading about fairies , ghosts and other supernatural creatures.  For Christmas I received:

A Christmas Present

William Henderson's Notes on the Folk-lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders.  Quite often this is one of the books which is quoted in books about fairies and spirits.  Why not get it straight from the horse's mouth when reading about fairies?  I have been reading all about red-caps, brags, barguests, punkies and the like, from a time when they were real inhabitants of the Northern Counties.

Then I bought "British Goblins" on my Kobo.  For 74p!  That works for me.  I am currently reading it.  the title is a bit misleading, it is about any kind of fairy or spirit, from undines to Gwyn ap Nudd.  The "British" of the title mainly means Welsh, the logic being the Welsh are the original inhabitants of the British Isles.

There is no where near enough of this kind of down-to-earth fairy and spirit stuff around.  In The Lord of The Rings I really enjoyed the descriptions of Tom Bombadil and Goldberry.  They have the feel of original denizens of fairyland, homely and nature-based.  The Ents are a fantastic example of something really old, nature-based, and home-grown.  Even the elves aren't too twee, and are still homely, whilst being very beautiful.  Their recent depiction on film does nothing for me.  I am still searching for some down-to-earth fairies somewhere on film.

In the mean time, my favourite film spirit is the Wendigo.  This is my favourite film featuring the wendigo:

A Wendigo Film

If you haven't watched this film, why not?  It's brilliant.




A Twelfth Night Present

Last night being the last night of Christmas, we were looking at old photographs and reminiscing.  Well when I say reminiscing, what I mean is embarrassing the children. 

Here is a photo of Aimo with a knitting pirate:

A Knitting Pirate

Aimo looks totally stunned by the pirate.  Incidentally, we still have the chair that the pirate is sitting in.

Here is a little late Christmas present for you, a sort of Twelfth Night present:

What's inside?

and open it up:

A Portrait of Aimo

What a Christmas present, I think you'll agree.  The hairstyle is a bit strange because Aimo had just cut his own hair.  Maybe sending the photo round everyone was the punishment for chopping his hair.

I have decided to sell the majority of my collection of antique and vintage photographs.  I will set up an Etsy shop when I have worked out how to do it.  I'm lying, I'm going to ask Miss Aimson to set it up for me.

Lords, Kings, Viruses and Diarrhoea

Over Christmas I have twice seen it stated that The Lord of Misrule arrives on Twelfth Night to oversee the festivities. One time was in the letters page of The Independent, the other was in the TV programme, Tudor Monastery at Christmas.  Having spent my time from when I first got my non-fiction ticket at the library reading about superstitions, legends and customs; I was very surprised by this.  It was the first time I had heard it said that The Lord of Misrule arrived on Twelfth Night, and then it appears twice!  It seems illogical to me.  Why would he turn up at the end of the Christmas season?  Surely he arrives at the beginning and generally gets involved in mischief and fun all the way through?

I went to have a look in one of my latest books, a Christmas present from Aimo:

A Christmas Present

I would like to quote quite a long section from the introduction which has a bearing on this post and others (e.g. Clipping the Church in September):

"The real danger is from a far more virulent virus - the idea that all customs, indeed all superstitions, nursery rhymes, and anything that smacks of 'folkiness', are direct survivals of ancient pagan fertility rites, and are concerned with the appeasement of gods and spirits.  Although the suggestion of an ancient origin for our folklore was the central tenet of the Victorian and Edwardian pioneers of folklore collection, this notion has only become generally known in the last forty years or so, and has taken hold with astonishing rapidity; the majority of the population now carry the virus in one form or another, while some are very badly infected.  The problem here is not simply that these theories are unsupported by any evidence, but that their blanket similarity destroys any individuality.  All customs will soon end up with the same story.
Legends aside, there is no evidence that our customs have pre-Christian origins.  Not one single custom can be proved to have such ancient roots, and there is usually a thousand years and more separating the nominal conversion of the English in the seventh century from the first evidence of a custom's existence; the idea that such customs formed part of a secret underground alternative religion is therefore risible.  The whole panoply of vegetation spirits, earth goddesses, and the like has been invented in recent years, with no factual support, to provide a simplistic romantic and mystical backstory suited to the needs of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century.  As a rule of thumb, apart from academic treatises, any description of the origin of a specific traditional English custom that uses the words 'pagan', 'fertility', or 'Celt' should be treated with extreme caution, and any description that uses the words 'sacrifice', 'Druid', 'earth goddess', or 'vegetation spirit' as complete nonsense."

I have seen that these origin stories are often put forward by the marketing departments of all kinds of organisations, tourist and heritage.  I know someone whose husband works for the National Trust.  His qualifications in either history or environmental sciences?  A modern languages degree and a PGCE.  His wife told me they had been to an amazing National Trust event where it was explained to them that woad contained narcotic drugs, and it was smeared on the body before battle to induce battle frenzy.  I pointed out that that was bollocks, and she replied we were told it by The National Trust.  Had perhaps someone with a marketing degree in said organisation written said piece of bollocks?  Because I can find no mention of any such drug content in Ivatis tinctoria, as it is a fairly easy fact to check.  The chemical constituents of a plant are a measurable quantity and not adjustable by bullshit.  Talking of shit, Culpeppper says: "Some people affirm the plant to be destructive to bees, and fluxes them"  It may give bees diarrhoea, but no mention of battle frenzy. 

People are indeed affected by the virus identified by Steve Roud, and want to believe in ancient pagan or "it was a drug" origins for anything old.  This process is not helped by the education system which has had a serious lack in history teaching, allowing the curriculum to be dictated by the same marketing departments that write the copy for the heritage industry.  Michael Gove now doesn't want History to be taught at all as a subject.  Maybe he fears citizens who are educated to think, assess sources, bias, and facts; and can tell an historical fact from a steaming pile of shit.

Interestingly enough the pagan community themselves, who were probably most involved at first in the "pagan survival" explanation of folklore, are now getting pretty wised up on it.  Thanks to the books of historian Professor Ronald Hutton in a large part, pagans themselves are aware of the likelihood that much has been made up with regards to the "ancient origins" of customs and practices.  They are ahead of the general population, who currently are very likely to say a custom is "pagan".

As for the character who rules over Twelfth Night, he is The King of The Bean, and in fact rules with his Queen.  They are part of the "things turned upside down" theme, which forms a part of many traditional celebrations, a general sort of Misrule or Mischief.  I cannot find in my reading today the specifics of The Lord of Misrule.  I also haven't yet found the link between The King of The Bean and Sean Bean.  But he was in The Lord of The Rings.

Goyts and Goths

I was watching Mary Poppins and discovered an interesting thing: you can sing "Go fuck yourself" to the tune of "Go Fly a Kite".  It works quite well if you sing it to yourself when dealing with bastards, for example at the bank.  Make sure you are singing IN YOUR HEAD.  That was where I made my mistake.  Not that I call it a mistake when the cashier is crying when you leave the bank.  I call that a success.

It would also have been useful for Miss Aimson when we went for a walk in the Goyt Valley the other day.  People get totally outraged when The Aimsons go for a walk; us dressed in our ordinary clothes and Miss Aimson dressed Gothy (which is her ordinary clothes).  It makes people either angry or they think it is hilarious.  In the Goyt we were walking on a tarmac road, which hardly needs Bear Grylls-type skills and Miss Aimson was wearing a long librarian coat in black and carrying a notebook, which she occasionally wrote in.  One man looked at her and laughed straight in her face.  "Go fuck yourself" we could have sung in a jolly Mary Poppins style.  It is completely possible to walk outside without dressing at Mountain Warehouse, and people have been poeting in the English countryside quite as long as they have been hiking in it.

And if he wasn't such a **** of a townie he might of known that.  He can go fuck himself.  Mary Poppins told me to say that.

Ever got an ASBO for punching a tree?

I think all that talk of coal may have been unlucky.  We have had a fire-related accident at Aimo's House.  One day, not sure which, we lit the fire with a £10 note.  It was unintentional.  There was this envelope with a Christmas present of a tenner in it, there was some waste paper, there was a fire lit, the tenner was only missed today, too late. 

I could have punched a tree. 

That reminded of the old days in Northumberland when we had Punchy Trees.  They were trees with really thick, spongy bark you could punch; if for example, you had just accidently burnt a tenner and needed to blow off steam.  Actually, when I was a girl £10 was an awful lot of money.  I lived in Northumberland and there were lots of big old country-house type houses which were no longer lived in by big old country-house type families (there were also lots that were).  When we lived in Gosforth (it was in Northumberland before the county boundaries changed) there was The Gosforth Park Hotel, a posh hotel in an old house, and we used to play in the grounds, which were kinda wild.  You know, the good old days, when kids played out all day, crossed the A1 to go into overgrown woods with swamps and derelict icehouses, punching trees and the like.

When we lived in Hexham we used to go to the grounds of Duke's House, which used to be one of the Duke of Northumberland's little getaway holiday cottages.  When we were kids a family lived there, but the grounds were kinda wild, overgrown, with swamps, derelict icehouses, a river, a pool, and punchy trees.  The fun we had punching trees without adult supervision all day. 

Last time I took my own children to punch some trees, I suspicion began to grow.  Maybe they were specimen trees in the landscaping along with the rhododendrons.  Maybe they were Californians Redwoods.  They were quite big.  I am now pretty sure they are.  I hope I never meet David Attenborough because I will never be able to face him now, knowing I spent my childhood punching Californian Redwoods.