This year’s festival, now in its third edition, promises something very different from all its precedents. It will be a celebration not only of the discipline of archery but also of its growing reach and resonance in Irish communities. Perhaps…
A life spent among words—their ripples, their surges, their deceptive ebbs—is also a life surrendered to a quiet yet consuming enchantment. The strangely beautiful paths they carve alternate between the solid ground of reality and the mercurial landscapes uplifted in…...
Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince—his name, steeped in ink as dark as a storm-laden sky, calls forth images of a knight both magnificent and terrible, a figure who rode the tangled path between chivalry and carnage. The chronicles recount…...
Welcome, readers! This time, I’ve got something for you that’s bound to ruffle some feathers—but hey, that’s the whole point of this column. It’s here to provoke, to poke, and to stick a thorn right where it hurts the most. Remember, though, the conversation doesn’t end here—I’m eagerly awaiting your responses! Be outraged, tear my opinions to shreds, and “smack my controversy” as hard as you can!
Longtime readers will undoubtedly have noticed that I’ve always been rather fascinated by the history part of archery. The bow has a way of reaching through the centuries, linking us to people who stood before making their release under skies numerous times changed yet still creating that same smooth arc. However this time, I have chosen to go a little further under the covers of the books, dusting off old tomes and brushing aside forgotten fables, to whisk you away into the first few decades of the 20th century. A story of how archery, an ancient art, found itself in that lovely juxtaposition of sitting with one foot firmly implanted in preserving tradition while the other foot fits oddly into a shoe designed to help you navigate modern chaos.
There are books that do not simply live upon shelves but rather take root in the hollows of your chest, pulsing in quiet defiance of forgetfulness. Matt Latimer’s The Phoenix Archer is such a book, not content to merely be read but insisting upon being absorbed, like breath, like blood. To enter its pages is not a choice; it is an inevitability, a surrender to a world that demands not only attention but allegiance.
Why did the archer bring a ladder to practice? Because they wanted to raise their game! Now, if only all of us had such practical solutions to the peculiar challenges of this noble sport. Archery’s grand, to be sure, but if you’re imagining serene moments of poetic precision, free of mishap or interference, you’ve likely never shot a single arrow on this rain-soaked isle. No, the truth of it is that archery in Ireland has a way of humbling even the steadiest hand, often with the help of a few choice characters.
C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia is a work so steeped in allegory that every element feels laden with meaning. Among these, the bow—gifted to Susan Pevensie—stands out as a symbol not only of strength and discipline but of choice, a curious mix of autonomy and submission to a higher purpose. I often reflect on this choice as I hold manuscripts in my hands, wondering if the writer truly understands the weapon they wield. A bow, after all, is not a casual gift. It demands skill, precision, and faith, not unlike the very act of writing itself. Lewis was a writer who understood the importance of symbols. His life, punctuated by tragedy and a long wrestling match with faith, shaped his fiction in profound ways. Raised in a bookish home, he lost his mother at a young age and endured the horrors of the First World War—a crucible that left him both skeptical of shallow optimism and hungry for meaning.
From Bow to Book It’s not every day you watch a friend’s dream take flight. But today, with the release of The Phoenix Archer, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Matt Latimer isn’t just an author to me—he’s a friend, a…
The ancient whisper from the heart of Ireland, the yew bow, sings a tune etched amongst the soft susurrations of leaves in the forgotten wood. A weapon, not truly; an amulet, a bridge into the Othercrowd, where the Sídhe people…...
(A monthly column) As someone who has invested a considerable portion of his life in studying literature and the elaborately oiled machinations at work in the construction of narratives, I am constitutionally fascinated by the representation of archery in canonical…...
(A monthly column) Good day, dear readers, in this issue I’m unabashedly bringing up the topic of sorts – which came first an egg or a chicken, or why the circle is round but not square. Hereby I would like…...
(A monthly column) The arrow, both ancient and resiliant, has for centuries represented more than ordinary blend of wood and steel. She is an instrument of swift death, and her silent flight often brings forth something beyond a simple ending,…...
EDITOR’s NOTE [November 2024] As the editor-in-chief of The Irish Field Archery Monthly (TIFAM), I am always torn between two alternatives that define the role of this magazine: are we the chroniclers of the events and achievements of the sport…
The Robin Hood legends have cemented his place as a peerless marksman, but let's be real: nobody in any kind of serious competition these days tries the "split the arrow" stunt. Real archers know the stupidity of making them waste a perfectly good arrow. But it's a story that charms-to show, once again, that when it comes to archery, as with much in life, the question of branding is paramount.
Horseback Havoc: Sarmatian Archery They are a people who vanish like shadows, whose arrows strike before their forms are seen; the Sarmatians, riders of the endless winds.— Tacitus, Annals The Sarmatians, like whispers carried across the boundless steppes, traversed the…...
Tolkien’s Bows of Fate ~ unstrung ~ Also available as an episode of the Winning Paths podcast on our channel www.youtube.com/@Winning_Paths The bows of the Galadhrim hum with the taut pull of destiny, their strings drawn tight, not as mere…...
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