Taliesin, by Stephen Lawhead

A good percentage people in the world have at least heard of—if not read—the Arthurian myths. From childhood we hear stories about the round table, the grail, and the fabled knights of Camelot. Most famous for their telling of the Arthurian legends are Sir Thomas Mallory and his La Morte De Arthur, and T.H. White and his Once and Future King. Sadly I have not yet read Mallory’s work, but I have read T.H. White and his enchanting story. Most of the tales are full of chivalry and shining knights on white horses holding their fair lady’s token. Most of us will be familiar with this picture: we come to expect it when reading about Arthur and his knights.

There have been many newer revisions of the old legend, including Mary Stewarts’ Hollow Hills, Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Mists of Avalon, and a very funny/cute but clever series by a children’s author Gerald Morris. All of them have a decidedly different take, but all are decidedly interesting. Stephen Lawhead has joined the ranks of authors that have looked into the Arthur myths, and revealed to us their grand vision. And (dare I say it) he has done so with considerable talent and writing skill.

Taliesin is the first book in Stephen Lawhead’s Pendragon Cycle. This is where Lawhead takes his first step away from the normally traveled path of Arthurian stories: instead of beginning with Merlin discovering the young Arthur who is destined to be king, Lawhead begins the story in Atlantis. The wonderful city of Atlantis, yes, but also the doomed city as we all know. We see the royal family doing what royal families do, and we meet the young princess Charis. The time is the end of the Roman empire, and the barbarians are starting to raid Britain. All that is there to keep them back are a few Roman legions, and the native Celts. From this point on we are taken on a longer journey than suspected: we start with Merlin’s grandparents. And while this seems very unnecessary, the cleverness of Lawhead is making itself known. When you understand someone’s grandparents, you will better understand their parents. And when you understand their parents, you will understand where they get their ideas and motivations much better than if you just started with them. Back to the story—Prince Elphin is a very unlucky young man. Anything he does seems to be cursed and it is always somehow his fault. His father King Gwyddno sends him to the fishery to take the salmon, and hopefully improve his luck. When Elphin arrives, there is no salmon and he appears to be just as cursed as ever. But in the weir there is one thing: a small sealskin bag with a child inside. Elphin takes this child and names him ‘Taliesin of the radiant brow.’ The story follows the lives of Taliesin and Charis, and how they intertwine.

Because of the nature of Lawhead’s epically scaled series, we hear no more than vague hints during the first book of Arthur himself. Arthur does not show up until much later in the series: for all that this is ‘his’ story. I say this to warn you not to be disappointed: there is, however, enough in the story to satisfy even without Arthur. Another point of interest is Lawhead’s use of Christianity. Most Arthurian legends are entwined with Christianity and grail lore: it would not be the same without them. But while Lawhead includes Christianity in the story, it does not take over the story, nor does it overwhelm the druidic realities of the time. Lawhead is a Christian author, but he does not call fire and damnation down on ‘pagan’ religions. He has a subtle touch when introducing themes of Christianity, and has written (I believe) the best way to live out a Christian faith without being judgmental or wishy-washy. As I stated before, I say this to make readers aware of what is in the book before they read it.

Taliesin is full of beauty, joy, excitement, and sadness. Lawhead can write beauty to take your breath away, or sorrow to make you weep. His description of the bull-dances are some of the most exciting passages I have read. (For some reason, the energy in them reminded me of the battle room sequences in Ender’s Game). I grew very attached to the characters, and was very loath to see the book end.

I did find it hard to start the book: the first time I read the opening chapter, it did not interest me greatly. This is the weakness of Taliesin, for if you keep reading, you will soon be hooked. But it is just that first bit…persevere, I say. It is worth it. There are some small ambiguities strewn here and there which can puzzle and detract from reading, but on the whole they are small and not too noticeable.

I heartily enjoy this book and gladly recommend it.

If I could ask Stephen Lawhead one question, it would be: how did you conceive melding the Atlantean and Arthurian myths?