I Found a Hero

When I was growing up, if someone asked me who my favourite author was, the response was always the same: Darren Shan. It wasn't because I liked his books better than everyone else's. It wasn't because I especially loved horror. No, I liked him because of the author he was, not the books he wrote.

To make sense of this, we need to go back a few years. As in, primary school. I read two different authors' books - JK Rowling and Lemony Snicket. Rowling was my favourite of the two, and continued to write some of my favourite books right up to the time when I got my first job. (Specifically, the midnight release of The Deathly Hallows was when I was offered my job.) Snicket, on the other hand, I only picked up - and this will sound ridiculous - because Klaus Baudelaire looked like Harry Potter.

Yep, I was that shallow.

I was completely enamoured with Snicket and Rowling, whose books were published regularly throughout the first four years of my secondary school life. But it wasn't enough. I needed a new author.

That was when I found Darren Shan, upon the suggestion of perhaps the first friend I made in second school, after a friend from primary school recommended them to me a couple of years beforehand. What was most important, then, was that the library in school actually stocked the books. I had a ton of books to catch up on, and by the time I finished them, he was getting ready to release another series.

I was also open to reading different books, the more I actually read different authors, which was a major plus. Garth Nix quickly found his way onto my book shelves, and by the time I started working I was ready to try new books by new authors.

In the meantime, I got to meet Darren Shan for the first time - on the day I arranged work experience in the shop that I would later work at on weekends. He was funny, he strangled everyone, and he made everyone in the queue for signing feel welcome.

The next few years are a blur of me showing up at every signing I could, reading The Thin Executioner even when I was supposed to be studying for exams. He imparted some wisdom upon me when my shop closed down, and helped me through that period of my life, until, a couple of years later, I moved from fan-in-a-queue to guest-at-launch.

Yes, in the summer of 2012 I got to sit down at the big fancy dinner held my Simon & Schuster to celebrate the launch of Zom-B and his moving over to them from Harper Collins. All around me were authors and journalists, booksellers and book buyers, publicists and Shan. It was wonderful, and he made sure I was comfortable before the night began, introducing me to different people from different places so that, when we sat down for dinner, even if he wasn't there, I'd know somebody.

When I was a boy, I thought authors were hermits, sitting alone in a room writing their books. I thought authors didn't know how to talk to people, because everything about the idea of writing a book seemed isolated. I think, for me anyway, I needed to meet someone like Darren Shan, whose real life personality was as big as his narrative voice. I needed to see that an author could be outgoing and write books that people loved. I needed a hero, and I found one.

My Favourite Irish Myth

You might think my favourite Irish myth would be the one I used to start the Modern Irish Myth series. You would be wrong.

While I love the story of Balor of the Evil Eye, it's not my favourite. No, my favourite is the Salmon of Knowledge. Not only does it tell the story of a young boy become a veritable genius, not only does it break down the stereotype that the old man in a story has to be wise (after all - it's wisdom and knowledge he's looking for), and not only does it demonstrate that short-cuts to knowledge and power aren't always as simple as they might appear, it's also full of little twists that make it more memorable.

The young Fionn MacCumhaill, the namesake of Balor Reborn's protagonist, is sent to serve the poet Finn Eces, who proceeds to capture the Salmon. Fionn is told to cook the fish - because Finn cannot possibly do that for himself - with instructions not to eat it. Whomever first eats of the Salmon of Knowledge, the story goes, will gain all the knowledge in the world.

Fionn, in doing his job, prods the fish with his thumb to see if it is cooked. When he burns his thumb on a drop of fat that comes off the fish, he sucks his thumb. From that moment on, the Salmon's knowledge is within Fionn!

When the poet realises what has happened, he instructs Fionn to eat the entire fish. Some stories tell of the poet growing angry from Fionn instead, when he realises that he isn't experiencing any of the so-called wisdom that should have been his when he ate the Salmon himself.

The end result is the same, though: whenever Fionn MacCumhaill bites his thumb, he gains access to the knowledge of the world. This allowed him to become the leader of the Fianna, a band of heroes in Irish mythology, and ultimately defeated the fire-breathing fairy Aileen.

He was a hero of good-standing, and his "origin story" is one that has amused children for years. (And, it seems, grown men.)

When a Hero Comes Along

John and Hank Green came along to Dublin recently. On Wednesday, they had a show in the RDS Concert Hall, which is essentially a large library that seats a thousand people. Every one of these people was excited, almost deliriously so, because for the first time two of my favourite people arrived in Dublin to put on a show the likes of which I could only ever see on YouTube, or dream about.

Usually the latter.

Starting at seven, they were on to cover the following:

- An explanation behind the writing of The Fault in Our Stars, perhaps my favourite book of all time
- A reading from the book
- Questions from audience members
- The mispronunciation of the name 'Ciara' (like 'Kieran', but without the 'n')
- A song about Quarks
- A horse-head mask
- Songs about Harry Potter
- A song about chord progressions
- More questions from audience members
- A slap in the face
- Lots of cheering
- Crowd-volume control
- A misunderstanding of the word 'heckling'
- Five hundred miles
- A song about the book
- A signing

The latter, after all the excitement of music and laughter and reading and emotional stories about children's hospitals and Esther Earl, took the longest to get around to.

Myself and two friends waited an hour and a half to get on stage to meet John and Hank. We got our tickets signed, because only one of us knew this would happen and we should bring books. John thanked me for wearing his face, and I told him about scaring myself by forgetting it would stare at me in the bathroom mirror.

Good times.

Of course, the excitement doesn't end there. John was on Ireland AM the next morning (thank you, Mammy Carroll, for telling me about that!) and both brothers were interviewed on Two Tube. Frickin' awesome. Hank's latest video tells about their time in Dublin, though I have a feeling that John will end up showing some footage from their day-before-the-show wandering, too (because he got some footage of his book in The Gutter Bookshop which I was delighted to recognise when Hank showed them in Temple Bar). Also, we got to say good morning to Hank.

I can't wait to see that. I cheered first, I think. Then it all set off.

John described the crowd of one thousand Nerdfighters as sounding first like 100,000 people on Twitter, and then like 10,000 people on Ireland AM, and I have to say: I'm damn proud of that. Irish crowds are louder and more enthusiastic than most people expect, and it has nothing to do with alcohol (as is often the case when Irish people are loud and enthusiastic.) On Wednesday, there were mainly teenagers present, everyone sober, and we still raised the volume to a ridiculously high level, with much due excitement.

It is our duty as rarely-visited Nerdfighters to make ourselves remembered, and to make the night as awesome as possible. Mission accomplished, Nerdfighters of Ireland.

So, awesome night. I got home fairly late, but didn't care. It was all worth it. We had brownies and white chocolate while waiting to get inside, and were greeted with the type of awesomeness we could only before imagine, over and over again. It was an evening of awesome, when a hero came along.