Under the Cover: The Irish histories, mysteries, and myths that led to Caroline Pignat’s The Discovery of Finnegan Wilde

The Irish histories, mysteries, and myths that led to Caroline Pignat’s The Discovery of Finnegan Wilde

by Caroline Pignat

The Spark

I’ve been an author and teacher for over 25 years and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we are wired for story. It’s how we share. It’s how we relate. It’s how we learn. Ultimately, it’s what we love! Give us a prompt — a photo, a line of dialogue, or even just a premise — and watch everyone’s ideas spark. Anyone can write or tell a great tale. The secret is knowing what best sparks your imagination and learning how to stoke it.

For me, that has always been photos and historical facts. I absolutely love researching! When a particular time or place intrigues me, I do a deep dive and lose myself in learning all I can about it. I’ll read first hand accounts, interview experts, and if I can, I’ll visit the place. I’ve been lucky enough to do that with manyl of my books. Being immersed in the setting always enriches my story. It makes the dialogue authentic, the details vivid, and helps me see the connection between the inner and outer journeys of my characters. They might be survivors of a potato famine, a sinking ship, or even just survivors of everyday life in high school. Whatever their scenario, being in their settings helps me better understand them. I prompt myself by asking: How were they feeling in this place? What would they have noticed about this environment? How might it change them? How might they change it?

The Book

So, there I was in Ireland in 2010, researching another novel, when the historian I was interviewing happened to tell me about the latest historical buzz. While digging peat in a field, a farmer had unearthed an old leatherbound book. Though it seemed just a mass of muck and mulch, archaeologists later discovered it was a book likely penned by a monk in the 9th century. Many fragments were salvaged, but even more fascinating to me was the fact that several pages of the vellum had disintegrated entirely leaving only the inked letters. Archaeologists were calling the impossible puzzle “alphabet soup”. And I thought: What did the book say? Who wrote it? How did it end up in the river that later became a bog?

That bog book — and all its questions — stayed with me. I knew I would write about it someday.

(Read more about this incredible discovery here and here.)

The Girl

While writing, Greener Grass (Red Deer Press, 2009), I found it so helpful to keep my main character in mind with an image. This one captivated me. Who was this girl? Why was she alone? What was she feeling and why?

I kept the photo on my brainstorm board and had it as my screen saver all year. Every time I saw it, it prompted my brain to answer and I was amazed by what it came up with.

Our minds are like that. They want to create, to make sense of things. Even if we can’t remember the name of an actor, long after the conversation, it suddenly pops into our minds when we are walking the dog or making dinner. It’s as if a part of our brain continued working on it even though we were unaware and busy with other things. Once I realized how that worked, it became my way of writing. Of course, I still have to sit and write and revise, but I’d say the heart of every novel, the soul of every character has come from prompting my brain with pictures, facts, and questions, and then letting my imagination come up with answers.

How would this character react here? What happens next? What do they really want? How are they going to get it? Who is going to stop them? How will they be changed?

Some responses take longer than others. But so far, my brain has left no question unanswered. The more I research, brainstorm, and imagine, the more I get to know my characters as well as I know a good friend — the easier the writing. Plot and dialogue become more like listening than constructing. I’ve imagined the story, envisioned it so often, and so deeply empathized with the characters, that the writing feels like I’m retelling a favourite movie I know by heart.

While researching a later novel, I was scrolling through the Irish National Archives and came upon this image. And I knew then that I’d discovered my next character — and setting.

Who was she? Where is she? Why is she there? Is she going in or coming out?

The Place

On a deeper dive into the location in the photo, I learned that it was taken at Newgrange, an Irish megalithic monument in the Boyne Valley just north of Dublin. Thanks to a grant from the Canada Council for the Arts, I also had the opportunity to go there in 2019 to research this novel.

These ancient monuments are incredible. Older than the pyramids, they are etched with designs we can’t decipher. Is it a language? Are those Celtic spirals decorations or directions? Are the etchings just random patterns or ancient maps? The structure itself aligns with the winter solstice so that the sun shines down the long path to its inner chamber and strikes a triple spiral etched upon the back wall. But why? The 97 large boulders that ring Newgrange weigh over 600 tonnes and were somehow brought here from quarries over 20km away. But how? We just don’t know. And that fascinated me all the more. Unlike other historical settings that had specific events, dates, and facts I adhered to, the unknown of this place opened up a world of possibility for the imagination.

All of it was absolutely fascinating — and I was fortunate enough to have a tour of the Boyne Valley megalithic passage tombs with author and expert, Anthony Murphy. His passion for the place and knowledge of it was so inspiring. I highly recommend a deep dive of your own: visit his website, read his books, and watch his recent discoveries on Youtube.

While researching in Ireland in 2019, I also found myself returning to the ruins of the monastic city of Glendalough. I’d been there many times over my life when we’d visit my granny who lived nearby. Something about the place still draws me. Even as a kid, I was captivated by the history of it.

This last visit, I saw it through a young 9th century monk’s eyes. I pictured Tomás walking the fields and meadow and I wondered: what was his life like?

This novel’s cover features my father’s painting of the arched entrance known as the Gateway to Glendalough.

The painting hangs in the heart of my home since he gave it to me in 2012. Dad’s art is also featured throughout the novel. Eddie’s father’s journal is key to helping him solve the mysteries of the bog book and I knew I wanted some of those notes illustrated in my novel. Having Dad as the artist was so meaningful because, like Eddie, my passion for Celtic stories was inspired by that of my father. It was his illustrations of Fionn and his legendary band of the Fianna —those heroes and villains of Celtic myths — that first captivated my imagination when I was eight. His voice that read epics like The Hobbit, even though Mom said it was too much for little kids. His was the mandolin to which we danced reels and jigs when I took Irish dancing. I can’t think of a story like Finnegan’s and not think of Dad — and I’m so thankful to share this with him.

Another key location in the novel is Dublin. I spent most of my life in Canada, but I will always feel a connection to Wicklow (where Granny lived) and Dublin, the city where I was born. It’s where Finnegan lives on the streets, stealing to survive. Unlike Eddie, who is obsessed with the past and his future career, Finn lives for the moment. Without a family or history of her own, she has convinced herself she doesn’t need anyone. But the ache in her heart whispers otherwise. A walking tour of Dublin streets — in the cold rain — helped me vividly picture her there as well.

But what most fascinated me about Dublin was when I learned it was originally a Viking settlement. Many Irish towns are. The Norse came. They plundered. And eventually settled there. Over many generations and through much conflict, their influence became part of Irish history, art, and culture. I knew it had to be part of this novel, too.

With this book, whenever I thought I’d finally figured out the story, a new layer was revealed. Another connection. A new treasure unearthed. And with each find, a recurring sense of homecoming, like when you’re lost and see a familiar landmark or that sense of affirmation when you suddenly remember something you’d long forgotten. It was a deep feeling of being on the right track, meandering as it was.

And meander it did.

From that first spark 15 years ago, through many years of daydreaming, researching, and writing — it’s been a wild journey, to be sure. Yet even in the last stages of revising, I was often surprised by things highlighted by Bev Brenna, my lovely and insightful editor. Themes like: belonging, family, friendship, memory, grief, identity, self-discovery and courage. Things I, too, needed to rediscover.

It makes me think there is even more to this story than I think, even more than I meant to include. I love it when that happens, because that makes the story an adventure and discovery all its own — for the writer, and hopefully, for every reader.