Irish Wishing Well

I long to follow the enchanting music of Ireland all the way to its rocky shores. In the gorgeous picture book Rónán and the Mermaid: A Tale Of Old Ireland by Marianne McShane, with illustrations by Jordi Solano, I can hear the seagulls and blackbirds, the melancholy chorus of the seals, the pure harp notes, the lapping and splashing waves and the mesmerizing songs of the mermaid. Yet the mystery begins in the silence of an unconscious young boy, dressed in a seagrass shawl, with seaweed tangled in his hair. He is found by a monk after being washed ashore by the Irish Sea in the aftermath of a fierce storm, with a silver ring in his hand. How is he connected to the legend of a mermaid who has been wandering the sea for three hundred years?

Even the origin story of the picture book is magical. Ms. McShane, who is a traditional Irish storyteller known as a seanchaí , took inspiration from the Annals of the Four Masters, a medieval Irish history, which includes the story of a mermaid named Líban from 558 C.E. (This is explained in an author’s note.) Hence, the book feels like a classic, from a more harsh, yet mystical time. The author is also from “the same shore” as the book, according to her biography, which is in Bangor, County Down, Northern Ireland, on Belfast Lough, a saltwater inlet connecting the Irish Sea to the Atlantic Ocean.

Other Irish elements in the story include the “beehive huts,” which were like monastic cells for early monks. In the book, Brother Declan tells of the selkies (from Irish, Scottish and Norse folklore) who are seal people that shed their skins when there is a full moon and take on the form of beautiful human beings. (The boy’s name in the books’s title - Rónán - with the fada or accent, means “little seal,” and is a traditional Irish name.) Like selkies, Líban undergoes a transformation. Before becoming a mermaid, she was a princess when her home was flooded by a lake, drowning everyone else who lived there.

The sea is both a deadly danger and a source of life and afterlife. At a key moment, it is navigated in the book using a currach (also spelled as curragh). That is “a usually large coracle used especially on the west coast of Ireland.” A coracle is a small boat usually made, for example, with a wicker frame, “covered with hide or tarpaulin.” When a beloved possession is lost overboard, it becomes part of the sea and the “Land Under Wave.” In Celtic mythology, this is the Otherworld, which is ruled by Manannán mac Lir, the god of the sea.

A currach at Inishbofin Island on the west coast of Ireland.

The adventures on the Irish coast are so atmospheric, in both the words and illustrations. Ms. McShane writes, “Rónán set out each morning with his basket swinging on his arm. But when he heard the blackbird singing in the treetops, he would stretch out in the long grass and close his eyes to listen.” We all join him in enjoying the gift of nature.

The dust jacket flap with a synopsis of the book.

It is a gift Mr. Solano expresses in pencil, watercolor and digital media of a rugged countryside and sea that is mythic, historic, spiritual and religious, living and supernatural. (Spoiler Alert! Abbot Comgall, an early Irish saint, gives a blessing and christens a mermaid who herself becomes a saint.) The illustrations are done with earthy tones of blues, browns, greens, grays and the golden hair of the mermaid. The effect of this color palette is of a more solemn beauty, because heartache also exists in this unpredictable world. There is loss, even if it is gently implied for children.

The emphasis is really on resilience. Yet, it is a resilience that is achieved through community. We rescue each other, with kindness, love, endurance, and faith. “You are a fisher of souls,” the abbot said to the young, determined, hero.