The Door on Half-Bald Hill

My satchel is a burden. Every day it grows heavier on my shoulder, and sometimes the mirror clanks against the stone blade and the candlepot threatens to crack. But I would not be without this burden. During the nights, I lie against it. In the mornings, it is the thought of those I carry with me that gives me strength to rise.

- The Door on Half-Bald Hill

I finished reading this newly released novel last week, and my mind keeps going back to it. The old-world ancient Celtic-rooted aspect of the book and the atmosphere reaches deeply into me. I love the old tales weaving in myths, beautiful names, and connection with the nature of a world so much simpler than our own current age. A place where trees are ways of life, and vocations mean a responsibility in a village to its people. 

The atmosphere is dark in Tír Ársa, as the bloodmoon continues to hover over the people and the poisoned water, bitter as it is, spreads more each year, causing more crops and animals to be lost. An impending doom seems to rest over them all, and the people begin to embrace the coming doom with no hope. The ancient crafts and celebrations are kept, though, recognizing the turn of the seasons, the turn of the wheel. 

The hero, Idris, is the keeper of the Word in the village of Blackthorn, and he is tasked with discovering who he truly is and figuring out how to fulfill his purpose. Whilst the druids and the ovates predict death for them all coming soon, Idris does not believe that. He sees there is light, and it can be used for good. He sees hope when all others see darkness and the end.

The mark of an excellent book is that you keep thinking about it, and the more you think about it, the more that is uncovered and revealed at a deeper level within yourself and how you look at the world. This is that kind of book. I will be going back to this one again.