Book Club

Ireland’s Hidden Medicine

(Kingston, Rosarie; Aeon Books, 2021)

Reviewer: Stuart Milligan

Having grown up hearing tales of the folklore of rural Ireland (my mother was from Co Mayo) and having been an enthusiastic advocate of holistic practice throughout my career in healthcare, I approached this book with eager anticipation. With increasing disillusionment over the modern ‘rat-race’ and growing concerns about the disjoint between humankind and our environment, there could scarcely be a better time for society to review, rediscover and reconnect with the wisdom and practices of our forebears, who were so much more in touch with the rhythms, cycles and transcendent mysteries of the natural world than we are. In this context, Rosarie Kingston’s book would appear to have come along at an ideal time.

The book begins with a critique of medical practice, contrasting what we have come to know as ‘orthodox’ medicine with the range of practices gathered under the umbrella term of ‘indigenous’ medicine. It then goes on to provide a highly detailed and systematic review of the history of indigenous medicine in Ireland. A short chapter on developments in the 19th and 20th centuries follows, before what I found to be the most interesting and useful section: the ways in which Irish indigenous medicine can be used today. The book finishes with a highly impressive bibliography containing 264 entries.

In her early chapters, the author systematically critiques a substantial amount of material and presents a comprehensive overview of the history of both biomedicine and indigenous medicine. There are references to classical texts, legal tracts, medical manuscripts and herbals from Ireland and around the world, including the teachings of Ancient Greece and Ayurvedic medicine. As well as these more conventional sources, the author draws heavily on folklore and legends. There are

fascinating insights into ancient Irish history, the roles played by doctors and other healers down the centuries, and the emergence of the hereditary medical families. Topics I found particularly interesting were the historic role of the practitioner of Irish indigenous medicine (a ‘person with a cure’), the importance of sacred spaces, and the often intangible but powerful influences of Irish mythology and Celtic Christianity.

Some parts of the early chapters may be a little over-technical for the general reader, and at times I felt I was reading the literature review of a doctoral thesis. However, it is worth persevering through these sections, as they lead on to the fascinating exploration of numerous, often first-hand, accounts of cures, charms and other practices. It is at such points that the writer’s obvious enthusiasm for the ‘knowledge stored in a community’s stories, songs, folklore, proverbs, dance, myths, cultural values and rituals’ comes through most strongly.

The later chapters develop the themes introduced earlier in the book, particularly focussing on ways in which an understanding of the multi-layered ethnography of Ireland (and specifically its ethno-botany) can be translated into contemporary practices which address the need for a more holistic approach to living well. Many practical suggestions are provided, and the author arranges these according to the principal milestones in the Irish calendar in order to further encourage life-enhancing connections and communions. No doubt beyond the remit of the book, I would nevertheless have liked to have seen some discussion of ways in which elements of the other traditions which are a feature of today’s multicultural society might be incorporated into such practices. It might also have been useful to have considered how modern healthcare has already moved significantly towards a more holistic model which is no longer exclusively biomedical.

In summary, I believe the author has provided a detailed and comprehensive synthesis of current thinking on the history and development of Irish traditional medicine, and has brought that synthesis up to date through a wealth of practical suggestions and ideas. Numerous, thought-proving insights have been shared, not least the finding that ‘people with a cure’ are still present and active in Irish society, although they may be hiding in plain sight.

On a personal note, whilst reading the later chapters, I found myself being reminded of the stories and traditions shared with me in my childhood. On the one hand, I was grateful for the rekindling of rarely recalled memories; on the other, sad to be reminded of the rich cultural heritage that we as individuals and as a society are losing in our headlong rush into modernity and consumerism. To this end, I found the author’s suggestions for contemporary ways to reconnect with the wisdom and practices of the past extremely helpful, and I have already tried out several of them myself.

Readers of Herbology News can receive a 20% discount when they buy Ireland’s Hidden Medicine from www.aeonbooks.co.uk. Simply apply the code IH20 at checkout. Offer is valid until 31st March 2022.

Notes from an Island

(Jansson, T. and Pietilä, T. Trans. Thomas Teal: Sort of Books, 2021)

Reviewer: Kyra Pollitt

As a child, I never quite understood The Moomins. So, in later life, I couldn’t grasp why Tove Jansson, the Finnish creator of The Moomins, was quite so celebrated. That is, until Sort of Books began releasing Thomas Teal’s wonderful English translations of Jansson’s adult novels. A steady stream of new or first time English translations has been issuing forth since The Summer Book in 2003. This classic was followed by A Winter Book (2006), Fair Play (2007), The True Deceiver (2009), Travelling Light (2010), Art in Nature (2012), Sculptor’s Daughter (2014), The Listener (2014), and Letters from Klara (2015). And now, Notes from an Island.

Whilst none of these titles could be described as herbological per se, Jansson’s sensibility is the most fundamentally elemental I have ever encountered. In my bookcase, she now sits as queen of a canon that includes the likes of Nan Shepherd and Robin Wall Kimmerer. But don’t just take my word for it. Here’s Ali Smith, reviewing Jansson’s adult fiction for the Los Angeles Review of Books in 2014:

Jansson, who spent nearly every summer of her life on the archipelagos on the Gulf of Finland, knew how to decide what was essential. Like so many boats, her stories appear small and light, but they offer passage to a vast world.

The vast world of Notes from an Island consists entirely and precisely of the ‘almost barren island of Klovharun, at the edge of the Pellinge archipelago in the Gulf of Finland’. The book, beautifully illustrated with Tuulikki Pietilä’s copperplate etchings and wash drawings, offers some documentation of Jansson and Tuulikki’s life together after making this ‘fierce little skerry’ their home in 1963. To describe their life as close to nature would be a disservice. They are intent on finding their place within nature, offering a template for a humbler and more proportionate existence.

The book is made up of scraps of diary entries and logbooks, and longer recollections that together evoke the harsh brutality and utter glory of this eccentric yet tantalisingly possible lifestyle. As the introduction explains, Jansson and Tuulikki (affectionately known as Tove and Tooti):

relished the storms that would lash the granite rocks, marooning them for days, and the need to fish to supplement provisions and to collect driftwood for fires. As if to draw even closer to nature, they chose to sleep in a tent pegged to a platform on the rocks, leaving the small cabin they had built as a space to work in…

The building of the cabin is, of course, not a straightforward undertaking. It involves much planning, many boat trips, hard labour, and the services of the wonderfully dour Brunström. On the island, every moment of survival is a triumph, every encounter with wind, wave, fish, gull or flower a thrill. Jansson relishes each with the simplicity of an artist, opening this unique perspective to her reader.

Remarkably, Tove and Tooti were in their midseventies before ‘something unforgivable happened’ and they began to foresee that the elements might overwhelm them. The seventh chapter of the book, as they matter-of-factly face their new reality, is quietly heartbreaking:

We knew, too, that now was the time to give away the house. We assured each other that it was classier to move out in time, before it was forced on us, but it got a little tiresome if you said it too often.

This is a restrained, beautiful, radical, and classy book that will leave your rethinking your quality of life, the purpose of existence, and your relationship to nature.