[bala · home]
[okadenamatī · reviews]
[mesaramatiziye · other writings]
[tedbezī · languages]
language: Gaelic
country: UK
year: 1911 / 1922 (published together 1925)
form: drama
genre(s): literary
dates read: 12.12.22
Iain MacCormaig’s Am Fear a Chaill a Ghàidhlig (1911) and Iain Mac an Aba’s Calum is Bantrach Tharmaid (1922), two short plays, were published together by An Comunn Gàidhealach in 1925, so I’m going to review them in one post even though I’m counting them as separate texts for my stats for the year.
Am Fear a Chaill a Ghàidhlig is, in spite of past critiques of early Gaelic drama, actually I think quite fun. it does a good job of walking the line between pro-Gaelic didacticism and more conventional comedy — I think one of its strengths is that even as it’s poking fun at Iain’s pretensions and at the English language in general it also lets Coinneach be the butt of the joke at times, but always in a way where the joke is really on the English language. it’s cleverly done! only in the literal last line does it fully give in to its didactic impulse, and I’m willing to go with it, not least because “Ach fad ’s a bhios an anail innte [.i., anns a’ Ghàidhlig], thig i ’n uachdar an àiteiginn” is a great image.
the real highlight, though, is this:
Droch fàs oirre [.i., air a’ Bheurla]. ’S ann a tha i tighinn a steach orm a dh’aindeoin m’ amhaich. Tha i mar gum biodh ann plàigh. Mar as motha tha de eagal agad roimhpe, ’s ann is dòcha thu ’ga gabhail; gu sònruichte ma tha greis de ghaoith deas ann.
there’s something to be said, I think, about gender — something about the way the chorus of nigheanan/inghneagan/ìnghneagan/nighneagan (all four forms are used variously throughout; love that!) plus Màiri serve as a kind of chorus accentuating the mockery of both Coinneach and Iain.
moods: funny, hopeful, polemic, wacky
Calum is Bantrach Tharmaid is, frankly, bad. the plot is sexist: Calum goes to visit Bantrach Tharmaid to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage, and — apparently — will get it, even though she thinks her daughter is maybe involved with a local shopkeeper. it’s just a run-through of post-WWI (or, more to the point, post-Irish War of Independence, of which Calum is a veteran, fighting for the British state) gender and class norms (Calum is upwardly mobile thanks to some nepotism from his former commanding officer).
it’s tediously sexist, casually racist and colonialist (“Cha bhi na h-Eirionaich aig sìth ach ’nuair bhios iad aig aimhreit”; also some passing antisemitism!), and — even if it weren’t for that — it doesn’t even feel like a finished story, but rather like one scene in what should be a longer play. the only way I can imagine this having won at the Mòd is if no other plays were entered in competition.
moods: lighthearted (I mean, that’s the intention, anyway)