An archer’s spindle of literature Column

I first stumbled upon Irish Celtic mythology when I was a lad of fourteen, a scrawny thing with a wild imagination and a stubborn curiosity for the unknown. It was my older sister who planted the seed, gifting me a book for my birthday—a slim yet intriguing volume by Jerzy Gąssowski titled “Mitologia Celtów”. It was one of those peculiar gifts that, at the time, you’re not sure whether to thank someone for or quietly set aside. But once I cracked it open, that was it. I was hooked, drawn into a world that seemed both ancient and startlingly alive. The book wasn’t just about mythology. It was a kind of sweeping survey, casting its light not just on gods and heroes but on the culture of the Celts, their art, their rituals, their very way of seeing the world. Imagine my surprise, at fourteen, discovering an entire realm I’d known nothing about, a new…