An litríocht dhearmadta
Nuair a thosaigh mé ag saothrú litríocht na Gaeilge, is é an scéal a chuala mé ó chách nach raibh lón léitheoireachta ar fáil a shásódh na daoine óga. Ní raibh ann ach dírbheathaisnéisí seaniascairí agus machnamh seanbhan nach raibh baint dá laghad acu le saol an lae inniu – sin é an port a bhí á sheinm ag an saol mór is a mháthair.
An chuid eile de litríocht na Gaeilge ní raibh ann ach iarrachtaí cainteoirí neamhdhúchais a gcuid smaointí Béarla a chur ar fáil faoi chulaith Gaeilge – culaith nach raibh cuma na dea-tháilliúireachta uirthi go díreach.
Ba dealraitheach nár aithin aon scríbhneoir Gaeilge chomh tábhachtach is a bhí an litríocht éadrom, agus ní raibh mórán measa ag na scríbhneoirí Galltachta ar stíl teanga na Gaeltachta. Ba mhinic ba léir nár bhac siad ach leabhair a chéile a léamh, agus an Béarlachas agus an ciotachas céanna le mothú ar a gcuid scríbhinní go léir. An duine a raibh taithí aige ar scríbhneoireacht na Gaeltachta fuair sé beagnach dodhéanta mórán suilt a bhaint as scríbhinní na bpúcaí seo.
De réir mar a tháinig mé isteach ar litríocht na Gaeilge, áfach, d’aithin mé nach ansin a bhí oighear an scéil.
Sna caogaidí agus sna seascaidí foilsíodh cuid mhaith lón léitheoireachta inar pósadh plota bríomhar sciobtha agus Gaeilge líofa nádúrtha sean-Ghaeltachta: úrscéalta bleachtaireachta agus eachtraí stairiúla den chineál a chuirfeadh Walter Scott nó Alex-andre Dumas i gcuimhne duit, le scríbhneoirí ar ligeadh a n-ainmneacha i ndearmad.
Luann Alan Titley Seán Ó Mulláin ina mhórleabhar taighde faoi úrscéal na Gaeilge, ag admháil gur sárscéalaí a bhí ann ag scríobh scéalta éadroma, ach ar an drochuair níor cuireadh eachtraí stairiúla an scríbhneora in athchló go fóill cé gur aithin Titley a mháistreacht – níor leor nod don eolach, is dócha. Níor tháinig mé ar aon trácht ag Titley féin ar Mhícheál Ó hOdhráin, cé gur chum an t-údar seo eachtra stairiúil eile i stíl Uí Mhulláin, chomh maith le bailiúchán gearrscéalta réadúla atá cosúil go leor leis an gclasaiceach ‘Bullaí Mhártain’ le Donncha Ó Céileachair agus Síle Ní Chéileachair.
Is féidir nach raibh de litríocht Gaeilge ann na scórtha bliain ó shin ach ”Peig”, ionas nach raibh de rogha ag na scoileanna ach Peig a mhúineadh do na páistí bochta. San idirlinn, áfach, foilsíodh na céadta leabhar as Gaeilge.
Cuid acu tá siad leadránach agus cuid eile tá siad spéisiúil. Cuid acu tá siad scríofa i nGaeilge bhacach an fhoghlaimeora agus cuid eile tá Gaeilge líofa nádúrtha iontu. Tá go leor stuif amuigh ansin nach bhfaighinn féin lá loicht air ó thaobh an phlota ná na Gaeilge de. Cén fáth nach gcuirtear in athchló é? Cén fáth nach léitear sna scoileanna é?
Minic is uile a chuirtear a leithéid ina leith, ní féidir a rá nár bhac na scríbhneoirí Gaeilge leis an ngnáthléitheoir. Is é an fhadhb ná nach n-athfhoilsítear litríocht éadrom na laethanta a bhí. Sin é an tuige nach mbím féin cinnte an fiú dom lón léitheoireachta den chineál sin a sholáthar do lucht na Gaeilge cé gurb é sin an fuadar atá fúm – cé go moltar mo chuid scéalta inniu, agus cé go léitear iad, fiú, an gcoinneoidh aon duine cuimhne orthu i gceann deich mbliana féin?
Scríbhneoir Gaeilge ón bhFionlainn é Panu Höglund.
The forgotten literature
When I started to write literature in Irish, I was told by almost everybody that there was no popular literature for young readers. There were only old fishermen’s reminiscences and old wives’ reflections entirely irrelevant to modern life – that was the refrain sung by the world and his wife. The rest of modern literature in Irish was just non-native speakers’ attempts to clothe their English thoughts in an ill-tailored Irish suit.
It seemed that no writer in Irish understood how important popular literature was, and writers from English-speaking Ireland did not seem to have much regard for the linguistic style of Gaeltacht writers. Often it was clear enough that they only had read each others’ books, with the same clumsy Anglicisms abounding. Whoever had learnt his Irish by reading Gaeltacht writers could hardly enjoy the pooka writing for other pookas.
When I became better informed about literature in Irish, though, I found out that this wasn’t the rub. In the fifties and sixties a lot of readable literature was written, with thrilling plots and an acceptably Gaeltacht-esque style: detective stories and historical adventures of the kind you’d associate with Walter Scott or Alexandre Dumas, by writers whose very names have since been forgotten.
In his great book about Irish-language novels, Alan Titley does mention Seán Ó Mulláin as a great storyteller, but although Titley admitted his greatness, no reprints of his swashbucklers have been forthcoming. Even in Titley’s book I have failed to find any reference to Mícheál Ó hOdhráin, although this writer penned another historical romance in Ó Mulláin’s vein, as well as a collection of realistic short stories reminiscent of the classic ‘Bullaí Mhártain’ by Donncha Ó Céilleachair and Síle Ní Chéileachair.
Maybe there simply used to be so little literature in Irish in the old days that schools had to resort to torturing poor children with Peig. Since then, however, hundreds of books have been published in Irish. Some of them are boring and some of them are interesting. Some of them were written in the crippled Irish of the learner and some in fluent natural Irish. There is a lot of stuff out there I myself wouldn’t find much fault with either as Irish or as well-plotted literature. Why aren’t these books reprinted? Why are they not read at schools?
Whatever the usual allegations, you can’t say nobody ever wrote in Irish for the average reader. The problem is that old popular literature is not being reissued. That’s why I am not particularly convinced what I am trying to do – writing such literature in Irish – is a very good idea after all. My books might be praised, even read, today, but will anybody remember them 10 years from now?
Panu Höglund is a Finn and a writer of books in Irish.
