The Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat OShea

The Hounds of the Morrigan Reviews

• 
  Ellinor

  The Hounds of the Morrigan is one of the best children's/YA fantasy novels I .ever read I wish it was better known outside Ireland, the place where it is set. It deals a lot with Irish/Celtic Myths. This makes it special and sets it appart from the fantasy books you usually find, which are often more or less just variations of The Lord of The Rings or Narnia.
  
  The story is set both in modern-day Ireland and in a fantasy world through the two protagonists, ten-year-old pidge and his little sister Bridget have to escape from the Morrigan (goddess of battle, strife, and sovereignty) and her hounds. On their way the children are often helped by animals and have to fulfill several tasks.
  
  In its structure and the appearance of the ancient Celtic gods, The Hounds of the Morrigan is similar to The Weirdstone of Brisingamen. Of the two I prefer the Morrigan. It is more fast-paced and the fantasy elements used are more varied.
  
• 
  Michelle Durnsford

  I have a very warm place in my heart for this book. I was given it as a Christmas present when it first came out in paperback, many moons ago when I was of the target age group and I was instantly swept away to the emerald isle and lived in its wondrous mythology from start to finish. I reread it many times and found new bits everytime, and I guess it became a comfort read for those times when I needed to escape reality for a while. Now many years later I have children of my own and I read it to them (complete with some very dodgy Irish accents!) and they were every bit as gripped as I was. They hung on every word. There is plenty of action to keep 2 boys happy and the pacing is spot on. I have never understood why this didn't become an instant classic!
• 
  Abigail

  I adore this book! Thirteen years in the writing, and one of only three works that Galway-born author Pat O'Shea ever published - the two others being
  Finn Mac Cool and the Small Men of Deeds, a slender collection of retold tales from the Fionn Cycle, and an early-reader entitled
  The Magic Bottle - this sprawling children's fantasy is a masterpiece, and simply a joy to read! I love pretty much everything about it, from its wealth of folkloric references to its discursive style, and included it in the course I taught in college, on the connections between folklore and children's fantasy literature. I hope, in fact, to incorporate it into my dissertation, on that distant day when I finally get myself to grad school.
  
  The story of Pidge (P.J. - short for Patrick Joseph) and Bridget, a brother and sister who become involved an epic quest to prevent The Morrígan - the tripartite Irish goddess of war: "The One Who is Three" - from claiming the power of the serpent Olc-Glas, and thereby returning to ascendance, The Hounds of the Morrigan takes readers on an extraordinary journey through the world of Faery, or Tír na nÓg, introducing them to a wide range of characters from traditional Irish mythology along the way. Opening in O'Shea's native city of Galway, the book follows Pidge as he inadvertently gains possession of the ancient manuscript in which Olc-Glas (literally "wicked green" in Irish) is trapped, and finds himself almost immediately pursued by the agents - the hounds - of The Great (and sinister) Queen. Freeing the serpent by mistake, Pidge is enlisted by The Dagda, the "good god" and father-figure of Irish mythology, in an effort to track down the one thing - a pebble stained with The Morrígan's own blood, during an ancient battle with the hero Cúchulainn - that can destroy it. Accompanied by his five-year-old sister Bridget, and aided by "all true creatures," Pidge sets out to correct his mistake, and prevent the rising of a figure who can only bring death and destruction in her wake...
  
  With its wealth of figures from traditional Irish folklore and mythology, it would be difficult to imagine a work of children's fantasy literature more perfectly suited to my taste than this. There's the eponymous Morrígan, of course, with her constituent components - Bodbh the "Scald Crow," Macha the "Queen of Phantoms," and the great Battle Goddess herself, the fair and terrifying Morrígan - there's The Dagda, or Great Lord of Knowledge, who makes the very stars dance; Aengus Óg, the god of love, with his magical daisies; Brigit, the goddess of the hearth, with her toothsome sausages; Cathbad the Druid, with his spells and enchantments; the great warrior Cúchulainn, often in disguise; Queen Maeve of Connacht, fleeing from the tragedy of her slain sons, the Seven Maines, and followed by her husband Ailill; and many more besides. Each figures comes alive in O'Shea's telling, a fascinating character in his or her own right, and an intriguing reflection on some part of the Irish tradition.
  
  Just as compelling are the two young human heroes - the quiet Pidge, with his keen observation of the world, and his wealth of courage and fortitude waiting to be discovered; and warmhearted Bridget, with her outspoken ways, her penchant for embroidering the truth ("Me lost? I never get lost."), and her loving heart - and the animal characters they encounter on their adventure, from that comical frog, Puddeneen Whelan, to the glorious and majestic Irish Elk, petrified for millennia and brought to life again by Druid spells, in order to carry the children through a difficult stage of their journey. Serena Begley, the path-finding donkey who leads the children through the standing stones, is a gently reassuring presence, while the brilliantly named Hounds - Findepath, Lithelegs, Greymuzzle, Fowler, Silkenskin, Rushbrook, Swift, Fierce, Gnawbone - are an ever-present threat. My own personal favorite is Cú Rua the fox, by turns mischievous and mournful, who brings his own sharp wisdom to Pidge and Bridget, during the latter part of their quest. I am haunted by the scene in which Cooroo (as he is known) and Pidge debate human-fox relations:
  
  "If you didn't take chickens, they wouldn't hunt you," Pidge ventured. Cooroo turned and looked steadily into his eyes for a long moment.
  "Oh, but they would. You know it and I know it," he whispered sadly, and then he moved on."
  (and later, after a debate on whether foxes harm or help farmers)....
  "They begrudge me my own life - they want my death and they seem to get pleasure out of it and that's a fact."
  "Why do you take chickens at all?" Pidge managed to ask.
  "I like the taste."
  "So do I," Bridget said, defending him, adding reprovingly: "And so do you, Pidge."
  "In bad times," Cooroo continued, "I could believe that all I am is hunger with a nose."
  (and finally, after relating the terrible death of his vixen, hunted for sport, and torn to pieces)...
  "Ah, it is a sad and puzzling fate to share the world with man, but what can we do? My poor vixen - she could charm anything but the hounds, will I never forget it."
  
  There are scenes of pathos here, and scenes of intense excitement, as the children flee across a magical landscape, but there are also moments (many of them!) of humor, particularly when Bridget comes out with one of her pronouncements, or becomes indignant. I always chuckle when I come to the scene in which the old angler (Cúchulainn in disguise), admiring the man who first trapped Olc-Glas in a manuscript, says: "He must have been an elegant, powerful Druid, that Patrick," and is informed by a shocked Bridget that "He was a Saint, not a Druid; I thought everyone knew that! I can't imagine how you didn't know it." His reply - Ah well! Sometimes we miss the latest news. I'm a bit behind the times and I never did go to school." - is just priceless! Sly humor and clever wordplay abound here - the droll "warning signs" put up by The Hounds, to 'sniggle" Pidge, at the beginning of the book; the aptly named Castle Durance; Cú Rua's amazed appreciation of sausages, and inquiries about their source: "When a sausage is alive, does it have hair, fur or feathers?" Cooroo asked, sounding highly interested."; The Morrígan's impatience at being hounded herself, by the befuddled but determined Garda (police) sergeant, whom they refer to as a "small dark thing that follows us like a chronicle" - and the result is a reading experience that is every bit as rewarding, intellectually, as it is involving, emotionally.
  
  Finally (because I have to end somewhere, or I could go on raving indefinitely), this is just a beautifully written book, overflowing with deftly drawn characters, lovely descriptions of the natural world, moments of great pathos and terror, and most of all - a keen appreciation for the magical. The scene in which the Lonely One - the great Irish Elk brought back to life, in order to carry Pidge and Bridget on his back - flies through the night with his passengers, singing them the song of his life, is simply breathtaking:
  
  "On landing, the Elk picked up his stride right away and they flew faster and faster over the earth, while he sang the song of his life to them. It told of the days spent with his own people as they ranged over the land, of the softness of his mother, of young being born, and the old ones dying. It celebrated the taste of sweet grasses and herbs and praised the mercy of water that washed away the scent of those who were hunted. His song was about freedom and being, and the joy he had in these two things; it praised the sweet night air as they flew along. And then the song was about the coming of the ice and the long slow dyings; of the springing up of thick forests where many died, trapped by their antlers in the meshing branches; of being near to death himself; and of being found by men who pitied him and took him to a secret and holy place, where they covered him with sweet earth and sang him to sleep with magic. He sang of the whiteness of their robes and the beauty of their chanting and he ran thus through the rest of the night, leaving them when light came delicately to the rim of the world."
  
  Just as beautiful is the moment when the very elements rise up against the evil of The Morrígan, offering a thought-provoking defense of humanity, and our connection to the natural world, despite our lack of care for it:
  
  At this the waters of the lake murmured against her. They went in angry ripples to the lake shore and formed little eddies there that spoke to the earth in low whispers. "Listen to us," they said. "What were the words of the ancient scribe? What did he say? - Man's flesh is of the earth, his blood of the sea, his breath of the wind, his bones of the stones, his soul of the spirit. - Thus he said, did he not?"
  "Yes," the earth agreed.
  "Is he not my child, your child, the child of the wind and of the fire? Is he not born of us and nurtured by us, as is everything that lives on this bright ball? Of them all, he is our brightest child. In the hopes that one day he will truly remember and love us as he once did - give me your strength."
  
  I won't say that this book is perfect. I could argue that The Morrígan is a far more complex figure - and not necessarily an evil one - than depicted here. I could complain that, at the end of the story, Pidge and Bridget forget all of their adventures, a plot resolution that I truly dislike. But the truth is, whilst not perfect, The Hounds of the Morrigan is, for me, a perfectly engaging book. It has everything I could want: intellectual stimulation, emotional engagement, beautiful writing, and lovable characters. Truly, an outstanding book!
• 
  Tim Collins

  I so seldom give 1 star and this really should be more of a 1.5. Never have I been so incredibly bored and unmoved by a young adult book. The real issue here is how pointless the entirely plot is and how weak the main characters are.
  
  The plot is summed up best by this: Pidge and Bridget must stop an evil witch. They have no idea where they are going but they go. A god-like good guy (the Dadga) is watching over them and sending animals to help them along there journey. The journey includes Pidge saying a lot of things like this: "Oh no, the hounds are nearby. Oh no where do we go? Oh look an animal sent by Dadga to help us. Oh now we are alone and lost. Oh now another animal is sent by the Dadga to help us. Oh now we are alone and lost. Oh yet another animal is sent by the Dadge..." and on and on an on.
  
  This book had to be ordered online because it's out of print. It should probably stay out of print. That being said, it would make a really good anime movie.
• 
  Mai

  Let me just say, if you haven't read this charming, adventure packed book, you are missing out! I suppose it falls into the category of fantasy, technically, but it differs from standard fantasy in a lot of ways. The protagonist, Pidge, is quite young and the main relationship dynamic of the book is between him and his younger sister Brigit, who is, as he describes her, "five years old and five years daft." They're extremely protective of each other and perfectly happy in each others' company, which is extremely and it's nice not to have contrived sibling conflict for the sake of drama.
  
  I might be a little biased when it comes to this book, given that it's set in Ireland and gives a rare, accurate idea of rural, Irish life, even if it about 50 years ago. What really makes this book special is not so much the accuracy of the facts but rather the tone. O'Shea writes like an old seanachaí might tell a story, in a whimsical, light hearted manner, but dealing with grief and evil just as much as with humour and heroism. I think any fan of Celtic mythology will definitely swoon for this book, it presents a fantastic vision of Irish gods and heroes, by turns awe inspiring and hilarious.
  
  The story is an old fashioned quest, with clear notions of good and evil. Pidge and Brigit go on a great journey to prevent the return to power of the Morrígan, an Irish battle goddess of war and death. She is hunting for a stone that is smeared with her own dried blood, having been shot at her from a sling during an ancient battle. If she should find the stone, she will use it to dissolve a powerful entity, imprisoned on paper by St. Patrick, called Olc Glas (Irish for 'green evil') and consume him. By this act, she would regain her old power and drag the world back to the old days of war, chaos and death.
  
  Along their way, the brother and sister meet many strange and wonderful people, including many figures from Celtic mythology and more from O'Shea's vivid imagination and there is an emphasis on the importance of charity, hospitality to strangers and kindness to everybody, regardless of their appearance. Good deeds done for weaker people often return to act in Pidge and Brigit's favour, and for all that this is a tale of pagan mythology, there is a distinctly Christian tone. The character of the Dagda for example, seems to be allegorical in nature, although whether this is intentional, I can't say.
  
  The book is filled with vibrant, colourful images and stunning descriptive passages. As a general rule, I find overly descriptive books boring, but the imagery in this book is too gorgeous to skim over. The one caveat I would mention, would be that occasionally the dialogue is a little hard to understand, as it is written in an Irish dialect sometimes, but having met non-Irish people who have read and loved the book, I guess perhaps it isn't a huge barrier.
  
  Can't recommend this book strongly enough. I always feel lighter and refreshed when I reread it.
• 
  Nic

  Has a straightforward, classic plot - children attempt a journey, aided by magical allies, to find an item that will allow them to cast down a villain, while the villain's minions follow them. Many of the minor characters are original and fun or have interesting mythological basis.
  
  All that said . . .
  
  My biggest problem with this book was the utter lack of tension for most of it. The pace picks up at the very end, when suddenly the villain's hounds become actually almost dangerous, but for most of the book:
  A. The hounds are under magical restraints that prevent them from actually running the children down unless the children literally run from them, and the kids know this, and simply walk when the hounds are in sight. The author does not take the opportunity to make the trailing hounds (which are large and intelligent and can talk and theoretically would like very much to kill the kids) at all creepy. They just keep their distance and don't speak, and the kids aren't afraid of them at all.
  B. The hounds are never close for more than half a chapter before a cheerful new character appears to befriend the children and distract the hounds away.
  C. The author periodically assures the reader of how the kids are not really in danger and are not at all scared. This utterly destroyed any semblance of tension for me.
  
  Also, while I recognize that heavy description is part of the book's style, I thought it often went overboard. Sometimes I would notice a piece of description that would have been vivid and strong were it not embedded in a paragraph of dense description (and that in a page of dense description, and that in a book filled with ridiculously dense description).
  
  I also really don't like it when fantasy books end with the protagonist being forced to forget the whole thing. I feel cheated. It's almost as bad as the "it was all a dream!" ending.
• 
  Becca

  Hm, I wish I could give this 3.5 stars.
  
  This landscape crackles with Celtic magic. Every weed in the sidewalk and cloud in the sky is weighty with folkloric significance as two spunky children go on a brave journey to thwart the evil Morrigan--the triple goddess of death and war and destruction. They encounter the whole pantheon of Celtic gods and goddesses-- Brigit and Angus Og, The Dagda--heroes and warriors-- Finn MacCool and the seven Maines, druids and giants and helping beasts.
  
  This is the only fantasy quest novel I can think of where Good seems to have the upper hand on Evil. This is not Middle Earth where Evil is so obviously superior and Good is so faulty and unaided. Here the children are protected, reassured and guided every step along the journey. Even when things seem terribly dangerous, they are saved by one Deus Ex Machina after another. The evil Morrigan obey the cosmic rules that keep The Dagda-- the good god-- on top and the children safe from their evil plans. And although we sometimes wonder if the children can pull off their quest, we never doubt that good will somehow win in the end.
  
  Oddly enough, it makes the story a bit unsatisfying. Where's the real threat-- what's the point of the adventure if you know how it's all going to turn out? Especially since the children don't even get to learn from their adventure-- in the end, after meeting gods and running with heroes, they forget any of it ever happened. So as a hero quest--- it sort of fails. There was no real risk, and the heroes don't learn anything from their adventure. Strange!
  
  That complaint aside, this is a young adult book, and I remember being entranced as a kid by the reassuring way that help always swoops in at the last moment-- even if the help was in a bizarre form, the kids were always rescued. And talking animals, druids, clever tests of mettle! As a reader-kid, I identified so intensely with the characters, it's probably good they were kept safe from real harm, and made to forget. Then maybe... it could have happened to me, too, and I just forgot all about it! It's a geeky fantasy kid's dream come true.
• 
  l

  Growing tired of looking at the table landscape, Breda Fairfoul yawned and allowed a small frown to appear on her forehead.
  ‘It becomes tedious between moves,’ she remarked and to pass the time, she began to read a book by a great Russian genius whose name was Tolstoy. The name of the book was ‘War and Peace.’ As she read, she chewed her tobacco quid with relish and spat from time to time.
  [...]
  Breda closed the book.
  ‘Too much Peace; not enough War,’ she complained with a profound, critical air and threw the book out of the glasshouse.
  ‘I believe I might like to invent a new kind of rat,’ she added, and dressed in cap and gown and wearing a pair of thick-lensed, horn-rimmed spectacles, she sat at a small laboratory bench, boiling various things in glass round-bottomed flasks; while she studied a Biology textbook and one on Advanced Chemistry, for her B.Sc, because even Gods must work with what already exists in the Universe, especially nowadays.
• 
  Laura

  I love to re-read this novel every couple years. It should be considered a children's classic. It's so amazing! Pat O'Shea's writing is lyrical, beautiful, humorous, and incredibly imaginative! The twists and turns are unexpected but believable. Even though I know what's going to happen, I always feel the children's fear and tension when the hounds are nearby. Pidge, down-to-earth and protective, and Brigit with her courage and literal humor are two of the most delightful characters in children's literature. The cast of characters move the story along, but Pidge and Brigit are the novel's real stars!
• 
  Kim

  There are many books I read as a child that I've thought to pass on to my own children, but only rarely have I discovered the same sort of books as an adult. The Hounds of the Morrigan absolutely fits into this category. It's longer than many of those favorite childhood books, but it contains just the right amounts of adventure, humor, and sweetness. And if it proves too long for the children in my life to read themselves, I think it'd be tremendous fun to read aloud. If you enjoy fond memories of Lloyd Alexander, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Roald Dahl, J.R.R. Tolkien, or C.S. Lewis, give Pat O'Shea a read.
• 
  Clare O'Beara

  This is an Irish rural fantasy in the tradition of storyteller Patricia Lynch.
  A boy and girl buy an old book in a bookshop and begin to notice strange events and people. Three sisters come and rent a glasshouse nearby to live in; they are actually three witches.
  
  The Morrigan is a Celtic goddess of war and death, and she sets her hounds to follow the children and try to frighten them into giving up the book. In this way a gap is formed between this world and the misty world of myth, where a crafty fox called CooRoo - Cu Ruadh is the Irish name for fox, meaning red hound - tries to guide the kids. The hounds have to stay at a distance as long as the kids stay walking, but if they run the hounds can give chase. In a town square market the hounds take the form of thin people in long tan coats.
  
  Other than being brave, the kids don't do much to get themselves out of predicaments and they gain help at times to escape so are not coming up with ideas themselves. That is why I am not giving this book five stars, and I read it before the Harry Potter books came on the scene and it got relaunched.
• 
  Laura

  Seriously the best book I haphazardly stumbled upon and bought impulsively at a bookstore. It is a fantastic youth lit novel, about magic and godesses of destruction and death and celtic mythology and ireland. also, it is deliciously long so there is plenty to read and enjoy.
• 
  Dani

  Absolutely enchanting, marvelous storytelling.
  
  I read this book several times when I was younger -- I still vividly remember the cover of the copy my hometown library had and know I enjoyed the story immensely, though my memory of the actual plot and characters was much more sparse. Reading it now as an adult felt like coming home in a way, and this time I could appreciate the beauty and humor of O'Shea's writing (what a talent!) even more.
  
  Is it a perfect book? No, but there is so much to love. I understand some of the other reviewers' comments about the pacing and lack of 'real' stakes but was won over by other elements of the story so that these seemed just to be minor quibbles. I was a bit confused by Brigit's given age -- she's only 5, which seems far too young for her character; it would have made more sense if she was 8 and Pidge was 10 (or something like that), but maybe it's just me. Most chapters do follow a set formula in which a danger/threat is introduced and then quickly overcome by the numerous allies sent by the Dagda to help Pidge and Brigit on their quest, but most of the time these new characters are so endearing that the repetitive structure didn't bother me.
  
  And can we talk about the characters! O'Shea does a wonderful job of blending Irish mythology and folk tales with real-world Galway and creatures of her own creation. We see heroic eels and earwigs, Serena Begley the divining donkey, and brave Cú Rua the fox, to name just a few. Can I just say, there are not NEARLY enough eels and earwigs presented as the 'good guys' in fiction? Authors, get on Queen O'Shea's level! Her imagination here is just unmatched, and so fun.
  
  If you can read the 2-page prologue and not want to immediately dive into the rest of the story, I don't know what to tell you. This should be much better known as a children's classic.
  
  Edit: Apparently Pat O'Shea and I are birthday twins, and I genuinely feel honored 🥺
• 
  Otone

  “There’s always a lot of magic, but our way of seeing is very small and we mostly just call it Nature.” I heard geese flying by, honking, as I stood from finishing the book, and bird song heralding the morning, and I thought it particularly apt. What a brilliant book - from its blend of Irish folklore to the verdant descriptions of the natural world to its love for all creatures to its hilarious depictions of the ire and perfidious nature of the gods, I was utterly entranced. Many a time I had to pause to admire a particularly witty scene or turn of phrase. Reading it as an adult, I was struck by similarities in vibe to T.H. White’s “The sword in the stone” and Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s “Good Omens”. If you want an adventure with a slice of magic in your life, indulge in this book: it’s delicious as golden butter, and fantasy at its most decadent.
• 
  Merry

  (This is one of the books I'm pretty sure I read as a kid, but since it was a library book I can't check - and that would have been almost twenty years ago, anyway, so please don't ask me about details. :D)
• 
  César MM

  Una maravilla: mitología irlandesa, fantasía, aventuras y humor. Me encantó
• 
  Tanabrus

  Che il libro fosse una favola, era praticamente ovvio dalla quarta di copertina.
  Ma c’è favola e favola.
  C’è la favola alla Gaiman, come Stardust. Vivace, piena di inventiva, che si lascia leggere velocemente e con piacere, che stupisce.
  E c’è la favola come questa.
  Che, mi spiace dirlo, per quanto abbia una bella ambientazione e si rifaccia alla mitologia celtica, non ingrana. Risulta pesante e banale, duro da finire.
  
  Protagonisti
  
  I protagonisti della storia, nella migliore tradizione delle favole, sono due bambini. Pidge, che ha una dozzina di anni, e sua sorella Brigit, di anni cinque.
  Pidge è un ragazzino educato e tutto sommato cauto, ragionatore.
  Brigit invece è fantasiosa, vivace, impulsiva.
  
  La storia
  
  Pidge, in una libreria in città, si scopre attratto da un vecchio libricino. Lo prende, e lo strano commesso glielo vende senza chiederer soldi in cambio, dopo essersi accertato che lo voglia realmente.
  Il libro in realtà è una prigione costruita da San Patrizio, a suo tempo, per Olc-Glas, il serpente velenoso, che era stato così confinato entro alcune pagine, incatenato da alcuni scritti del Santo.
  Si scatena così la caccia ad Olc-Glas: da una parte le forze del bene, che guidano i due bambini in un lungo viaggio per trovare un amuleto con il quale distruggere le pagine del serpente; dall’altra parte la Morrigan nei suoi tre aspetti, che vuole assorbire il suo veleno per diventare nuvamente potente come un tempo.
  
  Mitologia celtica
  
  Tutta la storia si svolge in Irlanda, immersi nella mitologia celtica.
  Olc-Glas e la Morrigan, Brigit e Angus Og, Cuchulain e la regina Maeve, i druidi e il Dagda.
  Gli spiriti degli elementi, le magie malvagie della Morrigan, animali parlanti.
  E il mondo “fatato”, nel quale i bambini entreranno per compiere la loro ricerca.
  
  Binari
  
  Peccato però che la loro ricerca sia un po’ una buffonata.
  Infatti i cattivi li inseguono ma limitandosi a seguirli, visto che l’amuleto che i bambini cercano (e che solo loro potranno trovare in quanto puri di cuore) è un sasso con il quale Cuchulain colpì Morrigan tempo addietro. Un sasso macchiato del sangue della Dea, e che quindi conserva parte del suo potere. Inutile dire che lei lo rivuole indietro.
  I buoni invece ad ogni passo sbucano fuori nelle forme più disparate per indirizzare ed aiutare i bambini, oltre che per cercare di far perdere le loro traccie ai segugi che li seguono.
  Alla fin fine, i bambini devono solo farsi coraggio e camminare avanti, i pericoli per loro arriveranno solo quando avranno ormai trovato il sasso e dovranno tornare a recuperare le pagine del serpente per distruggerle.
  Tutto il resto del libro è il racconto del loro viaggio, privo di reali pericoli. Una scusa per mostrare il mondo fatato celtico e i suoi abitanti.
  
  Lunghezza
  
  Dato che la maggior parte del libro è un semplice mostrare il mondo fatato, senza reali pericoli o problemi, sarebbe benissimo potuto essere più breve. Invece no, e alla fine il libro risulta di quasi 500 pagine.
  Ora, solitamente io leggo molto volentieri libri ben più lunghi di questo, e in minor tempo.
  Invece ci ho messo più di una settimana, e mi sono dovuto sforzare per finirlo.
  Mi spiace, ma non mi è piaciuto affatto questo libro, me lo aspettavo molto diverso.
• 
  Camilla

  
  
  
  When I was 10 years old – before I knew what fantasy was, before there was Harry Potter or The Golden Compass – this was the story I read and dreamed about and loved. The one that, so to speak, started it all.
  
  “The Hounds of the Mórrígan” by Pat O’Shea is a relatively unknown book. I occasionally come across Irishmen who remember having read it in school or a children’s fantasy enthusiast, who has at least heard of the story, but rarely have I met anyone who loves this book as much as I do.
  
  “Whoever would have thought that the old manuscript in the bookstore could have led them into the journey of a lifetime? This was no fairy story: it was a real quest of good versus evil in which Pidge and his sister Brigit were the crusaders. Their journey began in Ireland, but the destination unknown…”
  
  A brother and sister living in Ireland become involved in the most magical and frightening adventure, that includes talking frogs, evil hounds, a swapping market, magical charm bracelets, and not least heroes and villains from Irish mythology.
  
  A wonderfully wrought tale of the beauty and darkness of both the world as we know it and the world behind the veil. A book with an enticing dreamlike feel that draws you in and makes you believe that anything and everything could happen, and that the next adventure is waiting just around the corner. Or in a dusty bookstore that appeared suddenly in your sleepy town, where you might stumble upon an ancient book containing something that should not be unleashed…
  
  Despite being a children’s book, “The Hounds of the Mórrígan” has very well-written dialogue, genuine and rounded characters and a big and ambitious scope. Somehow, O’Shea manages to immerse the reader in Irish folktales without ever losing the wonder and simplicity of the children’s story, and equally shows the light and dark sides of involving oneself with mythological tales and beings.
  
  And while my adult eyes perhaps see some of the less-than-perfectness, my heart at any age is swept away with Pidge and Bridget every time, as we run from the Mórrígan’s hounds with our hearts in our throats, have magical encounters with Cúchulainn and visit with the folk in the hidden valley.
• 
  Michelle

  Equal parts humor, cute, suspense, folklore and fantasy makes for an excellent read. I wish I could compile all my favorite passages to just prove that this book was very artfully written and deserves a high rating.
  
  Ten-year old Pidge (nickname for P.J. which is short for Patrick James or something) and his five-year old sister Brigit expect to have a normal day waiting for the return of their father from a trip. But they are soon approached by Boodie and Patsy, a delightful odd couple who explain that the book Pidge had bought from a used book store the day prior had released Olc-Glas, a terrible serpent. Olc-Glas is sought by the Goddess of Death, War and Destruction--a three-aspect woman who will now track the children with their hounds. They must find a stone that bears the blood of the Goddess to destroy the serpent, while the Goddess wants the blood to restore her old strength.
  
  The characters they meet along the way are priceless. Some of my favorites include Cooroo, the clever dog-fox who is their companion through the majority of the quest, Pudeneen, the hapless frog, and the Seven Maines, first seen with just their heads as they had been beheaded during a previous war. The humor and yet the depth of these side characters helps the serious quest of the children move along and touched me.
  
  I had read this many years ago and I remember loving it then. Rereading it now, I had not remembered much of the story at all and have discovered that even though many years have passed since I last read it, I still treasure the story.
• 
  Abby

  Two Irish kids accept a quest to save the world(s) from the old goddess Morrigan gaining her full power. On the way they meet talking animals and strange, yet endearing people. They all come to full circle in a battle at the end but it doesn't end there. There's one final task Pidge and Brigit must perform to end Morrigan's power once and for all.
  
  A familiar, comfortable fantasy, for the children to young adult crowd. It's light reading and unoffensive. The characters are enjoyable and have their own unique qualities.
  
  The payoff in the end is a little hallow. Probably because the story is meant for younger readers, but there are a few threads not completely finished - the hounds that may turn on their master don't turn much and the idea that the children should not run while the hounds can see them is never fully realized. And to end the book, their minds are erased so they can only get vague feelings and deja vu. I suppose it's for the best, so they can grow up normal, but they really liked the animals and people they met and to lose that connection seems mean.
  
  The moral to the story seems to be do as your told and give it your best. And have hazelnuts in your pocket for convenient saves by Dagda.
• 
  Boze Herrington

  This is high on the list of my favorite fantasy novels I've read. The distinctly Irish setting and skillful interweaving of Celtic mythology make it unique among books in this genre. And while it is certainly epic in scope, the moments of danger are interspersed with comedic bits that evoke Monty Python. For example, there's a recurring gag involving a talking frog and some coppers who are bad at their jobs. I liked this - the book is very funny and I think more heroic fantasies should be funny instead of grim-dark - but the humor isn't always incorporated skillfully and it slowly robs the story of any tension. It is an enchanting book, though, one that ought to be read by a window on a snowy day with a fire blazing in the background.
• 
  Kathi

  I found _The Hounds of the Morrigan_ to be a light fantasy. The story moves right along and probably is more appropriate for a YA audience, but I enjoyed it. I have a fascination with Irish mythology and history, so that was part of the attraction for me. There are many good life lessons throughout the story--pay it forward, be kind to the earth and its creatures, be attentive to the moment, distinguish between wants and needs, etc.--but the author manages to not lecture the reader. My main quibble is that I don't like the title--while the Hounds are important, they are not the key to the story.
• 
  Clare

  I read this beautiful Irish story in the 8th grade. If you're not one for thick books and small print, I wouldn't suggest this one to you. Or at least, find it in on tape or something. It's a story about a brother and sister who become caught up in a magical battle between good and evil and will ultimately determine which way the world sways in terms of sin or salvation. It's a gorgeous celtic tale that I would recommend to anyone with a vivid imagination. There's nothing that can't or wont happen in this book.
• 
  Echo

  I'm not entirely sure what I think of this now that I've finished. I enjoyed the story and most of the characters (a few of the minor characters the children interacted with got on my nerves a little). I thought it was interesting and well-written. On the other hand, it seemed a little long. It's not that it dragged in any particular spot, or that there was any place where I could say, "That wasn't important and could have been cut out." It's just that 600 pages of following two young children seemed a little much. I enjoyed the book, though, and I think it was well-worth my time.
• 
  Valerie

  Ich würde am liebsten wieder direkt von vorne anfangen
• 
  Mael Brigde

  My new favourite book.
  
  Well, almost. There's one other ([Peace is Every Step] by [[Thich Nhat Hanh]]) that is never likely to be displaced. But it is Buddhist mindfulness teachings and this is fantastic fiction, so they aren't really in competition.
  
  So why do I like this book so much? Well, to begin with, there's the writing. O'Shea is a deft and able writer, with that bit extra that makes her prose yet more vivid. I open the book to grab a random example and get this, "In a moment, there was the creaking of wings in the sky and everyone looked up at a string of wild geese flying in a broad V in from the lake and across the sky above them."
  
  This is not the most poetic of her sentences, but I like it because of that one word. "Creaking." Not flapping--these wings are too vast to flap, these birds so large they need the stiffness of long feathers. And there are so many of them above that even though they aren't calling, everyone hears them as they approach. This is one of the strengths of her writing. Nearly every moment of it takes place in the outdoors, and always there is the clear sense that the author knows intimately the domain that she describes.
  
  I am a great fan of Irish mythology. Rarely (if ever) have I read a novel written by someone who knows and understands Irish myth. O'Shea does. She also knows and values the modern Irish world, and she knits the two together playfully, beautifully, and frighteningly.
  
  The book is a quest novel, and after several decades of quest novels I've grown tired of them. Much as I enjoyed each meeting in the book, the characters, the actions, the settings and so much more, I thought I might get tired of them--it is 465 pages. But I didn't. In fact, the gradual unfolding of the different meetings and how they changed the children's trajectory through both this and the Other world began to slowly shift my plot-focussed reading style to one where I was free to simply engage with what was happening before me in each chapter and fully appreciate it. I don't know how long it took me--quite a while!--to realise that this was a much preferable type of quest for me. It wasn't obsessed with great clashes and thudding hearts (though there was clashing and thudding in places).
  
  Funnily enough, the book that comes to mind when I look back at The Hounds of the Morrigan, which I finished reading a month ago, is [Middlemarch] by [[George Eliot]]. Of course, they are nothing like each other. But there are certain echoes. The enjoyment I took in the wordcraft, pausing now and then to savour a line or an image. The realisation that the plot was not so terribly important, that much more relevant was the time spent with the characters in their particular worlds. The sense that not one moment of this book was padding, despite their both being on the long side. And the sense that I had learned something in reading them. Perhaps the authors didn't intend that I learn anything, or at least not what I did--no one was preaching to me, or if they were they were awfully subtle. But in spending time with them my perspective on reading was in some way changed.