Retro Rants: The Tain Bo Culaigne

Shamrock n’ Roll

The Tain Bo Culaigne (pronounced roughly as tan-bo cool-on) and abbreviated as The Tain.

Never heard of it you say? Well, neither had I.

When I was finally made aware of its existence it was described to me as the “Irish Iliad.” Given my proclivity toward classical literature and a certain Celtic heritage and my curiosity was beyond piqued.

Now, anyone who’s ever seen a copy of Homer’s Iliad will tell you that you’re not likely to finish said tome over a short lunch. I was therefore fully anticipating an equally thick “chihuahua killer” thickness from the Tain.

I was disappointed, then, when I picked up a copy and it turned out to be slightly thinner than my paperback copy of The Hobbit. Funnily enough, like The Hobbit, The Tain turned out to be a blast to read.

Now, full disclosure, I normally consider the forward of a classical novel to be entirely optional but with The Tain I’d say it’s crucial to actually understanding the work. Having someone point out the idiosyncrasies within the story as well as providing a logical explanation as to why they’re there helps you actually appreciate and understand the narrative instead of wondering “hey wait a minute didn’t that guy die a few pages ago?”

Now I know that doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement but bear with me here.

The Tain wasn’t originally meant to be read, dear reader, but to be heard. This gives the story a sort of rhythm, a tempo to follow as events unfold. Seven brothers somehow remain seven despite the protagonist routinely murdering them in groups of one to three not because it makes any sense but because describing them as Seven sons sounds better when read aloud (and is easier to remember for an oral performer).

Couple these kinds of flavorful idiosyncrasies with a woman flashing her boobs to stop a berserk warrior in his tracks and you’re left with a certain whimsical flair that’s a wonder to behold.

Thanks, little guy. I know.

Its’ raw, primal even. It can be crass at times. Hell, sometimes it may even lack common sense, but good lord if it isn’t entertaining all the way through.

Cu Cuhlain (the protagonist of this Irish Illiad) does indeed present a direct comparison to Homer’s Achilles, as he is also a god-like berserker of sorts, a figure of wrath and ruin. However while Achilles is (mostly) invulnerable due to the river Styx, Cu Cuhlain has what is translated as a “warp spasm” where he enters a battle frenzy. A more contemporary interpretation of reading “warp spasm” may be to say that “at that point Cu Cuhlain lost his shit.” Modern readers will find no shortage of entertainment regarding his fighting prowess or the plays on his fierce pride, or even his surprising (and sometimes confusing) loyalty to his wife (I guess we have to grade on a curve for celts in the iron age. Seriously folks I cannot stress how important the Forward is to making this relationship make sense).

In English The Tain Bo Culaigne translates to The Cattle Raid of Cooley, and the premise is the most Irish thing I can think of: there’s a (cough cough) “agreement” between a male and female leader of rival clans to let the woman borrow a famously virile bull to start fathering calves in her herd (which would increase her own fame) in exchange for sharing “the generosity of her thighs.” Then while at the party celebrating the….agreement (just imagine showing up to a party like this to celebrate your boss reaching a similar agreement) a man in the service of said woman gets drunk and has a slip of the tongue, implying it was a good thing the man agreed to the deal or else the woman’s husband would have had to come take the bull by force. The male chieftain says the iron age equivalent of “the fuck did you just say to me?” The retainer gives the equivalent of “come at me bro,” and BAM all of Ireland is suddenly at war.

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time

Yup that’s right. War, and not because the dude was mounting another man’s wife, or because he refused to share some magic bull sperm, but because he was insulted someone somewhat-kinda-maybe inferred they could take him in a fight.

And here’s the kicker, dear reader: the woman and her husband lead their warband against the bull owner at a time where all the men in his clan were known to be bed-ridden by a curse which caused them to all suffer pregnancy pangs.

Yup, you read that right. I can’t make this up.

Enter Cu Cuhlain who, being in service of said bull owner but not being of the man’s clan, is not affected by the “Pangs of Ulster.” Because he can’t suffer the insult of having the land he protects be invaded he takes it upon himself to single handedly block the invading army at key river passes, delaying them until the men of Ulster can recover and form up the army.

It’s absurd, it’s magical, and it’s a fucking riot.

There’s blood, there’s boobs, there’s a shocking degree of gender equality!

Truly there’s something here for everyone, and while The Tain isn’t the entire saga of Cu Cuhlain it is one of his more famous outings and after reading it you’ll see why.

If you’re a fan of classical literature, history, or if you have even an iota of Irish blood in you do yourself a favor and pick this one up.

Heck even if none of the applies to you and you’re just looking for a quick laugh you’d be doing yourself a disservice by not giving The Tain a try.