An Irish Revival: How Irish storytelling moved from hearth to headliners
From illustrious new writing for the stage and Ireland’s recent dominance on screens large and small, to traditional music drawing the festival crowds and the demand for tickets to a Seanachoíche night, Irish storytelling has undoubtedly moved from hearth to headliners.
“Empathy is remembering that everybody has a story.”
This is a quote from poet and musician Kae Tempest, On Connection, and the reminder with which each Seanchoíche event begins. For those who are not well acquainted, Seanchoíche is a travelling storytelling events platform that engages in spoken storytelling across both stage and audience. Founded by Ciaran ‘Gaff’ Gaffney in the aftermath of lockdown as a medium for connection, it travels internationally and tickets sell out within minutes. As the quote suggests, attending a Seanchoíche event is an exercise in empathy, and a lesson in understanding yourself.
“The land of saints, scholars and storytellers” is an epithet that has long captured the country’s cultural and historical identity, and it continues, for the most part – we may not all be saints! – to hold true today. Writers, poets, playwrights, filmmakers — each are a seanchaí (storytellers) in their own right. As are comedians, rappers, visual artists and podcasters. These people are taking an oral tradition begun thousands of years ago in a pre-Christian Ireland, bringing it out of the back room of a cottage in rural Connemara and illuminating it on a global stage.
My earliest appreciation for the art of storytellings came at the age of 6, when a substitute teacher would spend the last hour of the school day spinning yarns of folklore and myth, bringing the stories of Fionn mac Cumhaill and the Tuatha Dé Danann to life in our classroom. What I remember most clearly is Labhraidh Loingseach, a High King of Ulster who was cursed with ass ears. Naturally, he still had to get his hair cut, and so the barber became plagued with the weight of the secret, resorting to whispering the truth into the branches of a tree hidden deep in the forest to get it off his conscience.
To cut a long story short, the tree was cut down, the wood was used to make a harp, and at a very special ball when a harpist began to pluck at the strings, the only notes to come forth were the barber’s hurried words: “Labhraidh Loingseach has ass’s ears.” Of course because we were children, we were all very intrigued by an adult saying the word ‘ass’, but what really kept us wrapt was Mrs. O’Gara’s natural gift of storytelling. She had us spooled around her finger, leaning in and listening intently.
It was these great storytellers that kept our culture and history alive before we could create written records. In the same way that traditional Irish music is taught by ear without formal theory, these legends were susceptible to poetic license, so that provinces and counties and towns may all have a different version of the truth.
The resonance of storytelling in Ireland is particularly deep rooted, thanks to these seanchaí. It’s a legacy that has been disappearing, due in no small part to the prevalence of the internet and digital technology, and the growing sense of disconnection that slipped by unnoticed until lockdown gave us the much needed pause.
Over the past couple of years, there’s been a universal coming home for many, and that’s being reflected right back at us through the culture we consume and export to the rest of the world. Ireland’s surprising grip on the Academy Awards holds firm, from the acting categories to screenplays, production, design and cinematography. Belfast rappers’ Kneecap, with their verses as gaeilge, were the talk of Glastonbury last summer, and I’ve yet to go to a Mary Wallopers gig that hasn’t resulted in céilí dancing. But why is this happening now?
I posed this question to Gaff, for whom the answer seemed to come easy. “Ireland is evolving into a much more progressive country, and particularly after the last two referendums, being from Ireland is something to be really proud of,” he says. “There’s a worrying rise in far right ideologies that are not reflective of Ireland as a whole, and I think the cultural phenomena that we’re seeing are so important to hold onto to show that that is what Ireland is really about. These acts and events and talent are reflecting who we are and what this country has finally been allowed to become, not just outwardly, but inwardly too.”
I ask Rebekah ‘Becks’ Guilar – co-host and producer of the Seanchoíche podcast In Their Shoes – the same question, and she speaks to both the Irish diaspora and our global reputation. “Ireland, through history, has had this cliched perception of being the underdog. Other than poets and music, we haven’t been giving that credibility, and now, thanks to digital accessibility, people are seeing and understanding more.”
“There’s a level of substance that comes from Irish culture that people love, and we’re getting that credit on a global level, which in turn makes more Irish people want to create and express more. We’re having a real moment, and it’s been a long time coming. Seanchioíche isn’t trying to create a culture out of thin air — it exists and it’s great and we’re representing it in authentic ways. People are really gravitating towards that.”
What started with a family and friends-only event three years ago has grown exponentially. “We’re trying to make it so much more than just an Irish storytelling event, and as accessible as possible,” Gaff says. “We’ve already had over 70 nationalities attending events and over 20 telling their own stories. We’ve hosted events across 10 countries and counting, with over 500 speakers taking the mic.”
But what is it that makes these events so special? It’s simple really: it fosters a community, provides a source of catharsis, and not only allows, but encourages vulnerability. “At a Seanchoíche event, it’s not just the responsibility of the speaker to hold the audience in their hands, it’s also the audience’s responsibility to hold the speaker in their hands as well,” Gaff says. “The beauty of storytelling is seeing yourself through all these disco ball mirrors from all of the other stories being told, reflecting on your own story – whether that’s shared or held privately—and understanding yourself that little bit more by listening to other people. It’s a reminder that you’re not alone on your own journey or in your own experience.”
This genuine human connection is also being fostered by initiatives like Offline, who are hosting phone-free events to help people disconnect from their digital lives in a bid to reconnect with their real-life selves. Adamant that technology should not erode the magic of community events such as these, co-founder of Offline Sarah Gannon says: “When people come together in person, they are kinder, more empathetic, and truly present. Our goal with Offline is to offer a break from the constant barrage of notifications and the pressure to always be reachable. It’s a chance to step back, breathe, and remember that not everything is urgent. We give people permission to pause and focus only on the people around them.”
Unsurprisingly, people are really responding to it. As humans, we crave company and companionship. We want to sit together and put the world to rights over a cup of coffee, and get existential over a bottle of wine. We want to hear magical tales of other worlds and cultures that seem so far removed from our own realities, and we want to find the glimmers of the remarkable in the mundane. We want to speak and be heard and to listen and understand, and we want to feel closer to our heritage and traditions than ever before.
Illustrations by Maiden Moose. Event imagery via @seanchoiche on Instagram.
This article originally appeared in the Winter 2024 issue of IMAGE Magazine.