GLOS MYTHOS

Myth, ritual and archetype in a time of uncertainty

It’s been a dream and a joy to work with satirist Emma Kernahan (aka crappyliving) and illustrator Bill Jones on a collection of poetry, comic prose and cartoons for GLOS MYTHOS in recent weeks. What began as a hare-brained late night idea soon brought us together on a dog walk across Rodborough Common with views stretching along the Cotswold escarpment and to the very edge of our county, the stage on which our genius loci manifest in their respective guises, including goddess, cuculatti, ghost and Phil Mercury in his ice cream van at Coaley Peak.

Yesterday, I picked up an unassuming cardboard box from the printers and we now hold in our hands these booklets which bring together our writing, our art and a little bit of magic between the covers. That might sound slightly wrong, but you know what I mean.

GLOS MYTHOS, with its callous and offhand-yet-matey title, is a collection that pokes and prods at our shared fascination with the ways archetypes, folklore and myth gain popularity in times of adversity. Emma’s quite frankly hilarious writing explores this through the medium of a mythical community association, mine through forgotten women’s rites, rituals and Romano-Celt statuary, while Bill’s superb line drawings brings it all together and our words brilliantly to life.

So why the current fascination with myth and folk? I don't claim to have the answers to all the complexities, but I've got some ideas. Folk revivals always take place at times of social unrest and uncertainty. In the Victorian era it was as a response to the economic and social strains placed upon rural England by its urban centres. In the 1960s it was a natural reaction to the nationalism of WW2 and postwar austerity. Now, in the UK at least, we have Brexit, a decimated welfare state, years of Tory misrule and a terrifying climate emergency. The environmental and social justice movements needs folk to tell its stories, to inspire, beguile and entertain. To enliven us from our stupor, to give hope and love and courage when we need it most.

My interest in folk history and mythology is partly about searching for ancestry and a sense of belonging. I started writing about neolithic goddess cults after writing extensively on globalised rural spaces, textile heritage and the colonial countryside. Although the work felt necessary and creative and fascinating, it was also difficult and at times left me feeling alienated from my homeplace ... so my interest here began by reaching back to a past that predates that epistemic and territorial violence and trying to find belonging in the ruins ...though look closely enough and you'll see violence everywhere -

In the Roman conquest…

In the evidence of recurring battles at Crickley Hill, the first of which took place sometime over 4500 years ago ...

I've always been interested in the silences behind official histories, in the gaps and in-between places and this curiosity drew me to Cuda, our Cotswold goddess, and from there to many other such figures. Attested on just one statue found in Daglingworth Stream, Cuda is an elusive figure with roots in Dobunni culture. Very little is known of her but she's been appropriated and worked up into a totemic figure in everything from video games and handmade soap to iconography in our local 'goddess temple'. I have written before that I am sceptical of the notion of divine femininity, sprung as it is by the human trapdoors of gender essentialism. But I am interested in why Cuda holds such potency for us, what she could mean for us now, both on a personal level as a figure of care, fertility and health and on a community level as a giver of life to an environment scarred and struggling under the weight of intensive industrial agriculture, invasive species and the flood/drought metronome of climate crisis.

As you might've guessed, I'm the straight guy on this whole MYTHOS project.

We’ll be reading from GLOS MYTHOS tonight, Friday 21st April at an event on ‘Myth, Archetype and Marseille Tarot’ at Coco Caravan in Stroud, 6pm. This will also feature the stunning music of Solskin and a discussion of archetypes by tarot queen Georgia Cabrera-Guttierez and has accidently become our launch night for the book. The event has already sold out, but I’m told there may be some tickets on the door.

We’d be super grateful if you would support our madcap scheme and buy a copy of GLOS MYTHOS direct from Dialect Press (I even forgot to say it is the Press’s inaugural publication - exciting!).

Each book costs a fiver and we can sign it if you would like us to.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on folk revivals, local mythology and any other thoughts this post has sparked. It's a strange old thing writing into the abyss. For me, this Substack has to be all about conversation and connection. Otherwise, why bother?! If youre reading this, I'd love to hear from you --really. Even just a little wave in the comments below. Thanks for reading, love you, bye! x