Publisher Allen Arnold read the Song of Albion books when they were first published fifteen years ago. He has re-read them a few times since, and recently was able to ask Stephen Lawhead some questions about this exceptional trilogy and the world of Albion.
Arnold: What was the catalyst for this epic trilogy? Do you remember a moment in time when the concept first crystallized for you?
Lawhead: The Song of Albion was gestating throughout the time that I was writing my Arthurian series—The Pendragon Cycle. I had discovered the Celtic foundations of the King Arthur tales—which was new to me, and fascinating to me. This was in the 1980s. So, while I was researching and writing about Taliesin, Merlin, and Arthur—I kept encountering this rich, complex and, to me, exotic material— tales and legends of the ancient Celts which, although they didn’t have anything directly to do with Arthur, were nevertheless influencing the Arthurian tradition in a profound way.
I began scheming a way to use this wonderful material directly— in a story that reflected all the elements of Celtic myth, and that moved through the complete mythic cycle, beginning to end. The Song of Albion was the result.
A: The Paradise War uses a cairn as a gate to the Otherworld. Why is this?
L: In Celtic legend, almost anything can be a gateway. I simply chose cairns because they are ubiquitous in the Celtic lands. They’re everywhere, these curious heaps of stones. Whether simple or elaborate, they all mark significant places--yet we usually don't know what that significance is.
Like most writers, I often ask myself, ‘What if . . . ?’ What if a particular cairn was raised to mark a gateway to the Otherworld? What if someone in the present day stumbled through?
A: Nettles is such an eclectic, memorable character. Who served as your inspiration for him?
L: I live in Oxford, remember! These guys are all over the place. Professor Nettleton is my idea of the ideal and archetypal academic: agreeable, approachable, enthusiastic about his area of expertise, and formidably knowledgeable.
A: This trilogy works together so well as a whole—partially due to the intricate foreshadowing you plant in this first novel. Yet you have remarked that you allow each novel to flow organically as you write it. Can you describe how this balance works since it seems you have to have the end in mind—as well as a million connected details—from the start in order for the trilogy to build as it does.
L: The story grew from the ideas carefully seeded throughout the book and, while it is true that I allowed it to grow as it would, its creation was not an open-ended process. I had a definite ending point in mind, a specific destination. As the story unfolded and moved through each section it always had to be checked against that final destination.
This is not the same thing as knowing the end of the story; I didn’t know how the story would end. I only discovered the ending as I wrote. The balance, then, lies in allowing the story to develop as it would while making sure that what developed was moving toward the final destination.
A: The spiritual quality of your books is distinctive, and something I resonate with very strongly. How does all that work?
L: The way it works is, you write what you know.
The world I live in is a spiritual world. I have certain beliefs that include a creative God; a ‘manifest’ or temporal and broken world that is bracketed by an ‘otherworld’ which is eternal and perfect; the need for, and existence of, redemptive possibilities. Basically, I believe in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
Naturally, these beliefs inform my writing, just as a person with other beliefs—a naturalist, nihilist, humanist, or hedonist, for example—will write books that express his or her point of view . . . whether they intend to, or not! It’s unavoidable. And, the more subtle it is . . . the more compelling it is.
I suppose there’s a parallel here with the book, eh? In the world of Albion, what happens in the Otherworld effects what happens in the manifest world . . . and my contention is that what is going on in any author’s own belief system effects what happens in his or her books.
A: Each book in this series has thirty-nine chapters. Is that important?
L: In Celtic numerology, thirty-nine is a highly symbolic number. To the ancient Celts, three was the sacred number, and what is nine but three times three—which is to say thrice sacred, which is three times more holy, and so on. Thus, in a series about divine kingship, I thought it might be interesting to keep each book to thirty-nine chapters as a way to reinforce this ancient holy concept.