The electronic age promised the death of the book. The computer, CD-Rom and Internet would, we were told, make printed matter redundant. The microchip promised a multicoloured, interactive imagination which would leave black and white pages in the Stone Age. It hasn't happened. The book, rather than the CD-Rom, is still king of western culture, and there is still a desire among people to become readers and authors.
All's well then for books? Certainly if they're written in the major world languages. But what of the lesser-used ones, such as Irish, where print-runs rarely extend beyond 1,000 copies, and sales are measured in the hundreds? Bord na Leabhar Gaeilge aims to promote the publishing and the marketing of books in Irish, with an annual grant of £453,000. "We're trying to cultivate the habit of reading and provide attractive reading material from a young age," says its full-time administrator, Conchur O Giollagain. And, he says, the situation is "healthy in certain areas".
Measuring the well-being of publishing in Irish by the number of units sold is not necessarily an accurate reflection of the vitality of Irish-language literature. Citing the example of Catalonia, O Giollagain points out that for the 7,000,000 speakers of Catalan, the usual print-run of a book is 1,500 to 2,000. Many successful writers of Irish would have comparable print-runs, and they are working within a far smaller language pool.
Nonetheless, the Bord is keen to see more books move off the shelves. To that end, it has recently instituted a new "carrot and stick". The aim is to cultivate and promote publishers who approach the business in the most professional manner. In addition, the Bord is sponsoring a prize of £3,000 for a novel "for the people". The work being sought will be "easily" read and aimed at adults who read "for pleasure and as a pastime". Does this search for a best-seller as Gaeilge raise doubts about the future of literary fiction? Is pulp fiction the answer? Author and critic, Alan Titley, believes that the book is still a viable medium, if not a mass one. Is he conscious of having a readership? "Yes, I do have readers. I occasionally get letters or cards, and have even met people on the street who have read some of my work. I also meet people who congratulate me on a book but I know damn well by the whites of their eyes that they haven't read it.
"I also know that the readership is small - some hundreds perhaps, and from time to time a story or play may reach thousands if it is broadcast or converted to some other medium. But I feel it is a loyal readership. No writer in Irish is under any illusion about this. The big difference between writing in Irish and in a world language is that, no matter what you do, there is a very definite limit to your audience. Most books in most languages sell little - in that we are not so different. But for the writer in a world colonial language the globe's the limit."
The problem of readership is a simple one to identify but not necessarily to change. "In some ways the book in Irish has been too dependent on cultur beil [oral culture]. The most famous works are those which grow from that tradition, or make shapes in that direction - name any 10 you like. For book culture, the cultur beil has to be transmogrified or subverted, upended or shape-changed. Or else just buried," he says.
Is the book a cuckoo then in an oral culture? "No, not a cuckoo. There is writing and plenty of it. More than ever. The tradition of writing books is merely a continuation of a tradition that was always there, but was destroyed during the 18th and for most of the 19th century.
"The notion that Irish is an especially oral culture is absurd - that it's a kind of rural tongue, good enough for folklore and hearth and heart, but not for the real world of thinking and imagining over hundreds of pages. This is rot and rubbish, and part of an internalised colonial mind-set beloved of those who would like to keep the language in its (safe) place," he argues.
Micheal O Conghaile is both a writer and publisher. He set up Clo Iar-Chonnachta, which is based in the Connemara Gaeltacht, in 1985. Since then, he has published over 200 titles, from folktales to contemporary fiction. Despite being a Gaeltacht writer of Irish, it hasn't brought him any great following in his native Connemara.
An Fear a Phleasc, his latest collection of short stories, sold its print run of 1,000 copies in just over a year, a major achievement for any book in Irish, but most of the sales were outside the Gaeltacht. Despite 100 years of revivalist efforts, he believes "not much attention is paid to books in the Gaeltacht" though he does admit that there are "exceptions". As a publisher he is happy if any single book sells 500 copies in a year.
O Conghaile is downbeat about the future. The dearth of young talent is a great source of concern. "Young writers aren't coming through, and there are few under the age of 35," he says, blaming the "many distractions" on offer. He mentions in particular the lure of writing scripts for the emerging TnaG, though he notes, possibly in hope more than expectation, that this new-found interest in TV scripts may translate into something more traditional, such as a play, further down the road.
He cocoons himself to some degree against the readership (or lack of it) by not "thinking about it much". "I write from the heart. I write because I want to. I don't really care if I have 200 readers or 2,000."
If prose is suffering a lack of readership, then poetry could be thought to be in an even worse state of affairs. Not so, says poet Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill. Poetry is not a big seller in either English or Irish. She is certain, however, that there are "still a lot of readers out there who value literature, and that will always be the case. The computer will not take the place of the book."
NI DHOMHNAILL remains sceptical about fads and trends and expresses "great disappointment" in TnaG's "level of Irish". Scripts are fashionable at present, she says; before that the novel enjoyed a resurgence. "It's swings and roundabouts. It is the writers who put the substance into language," she says, illustrating her point by reference to Alan Titley's Leabhar Nora Ni Anluain, a collection of fables which she has just finished.
She describes it as "brilliant. It gladdened my heart, lifted my spirits and opened my eyes. That's literature and that's why I keep faith in the book."
Will literature in Irish survive? "Without doubt," is Titley's answer. "The Irish book is to give pleasure, knowledge and wonder. To enrich the tradition and continue it. To say something. To say something that was never said before. To defy gravity and history. To shout, scream and roar Hosannah."
