Druid Journal

In 2014, my wife Alison and I read Dr Michael Ward‘s excellent Planet Narnia together, about the medieval inspirations for the seven books and their symbolism, and it inspired us to read the series again together. I adored the books when I was younger, but when I read it again to my kids when they were very young, I began to notice some serious issues with it.

It wasn’t that the books had a strong Christian message: the Lord of the Rings also has a strong Christian message, and it’s awesome. It also wasn’t the glorification of violence, or even bullying (which is tacitly accepted in some places, even while it is explicitly denounced in others). It was the sexism.

There are a few famous sexist utterances in the narration, saying girls shouldn’t do this, girls shouldn’t do that. But worse, and more insidious, is the logic of the universe itself, the way the narrative rewards certain kinds of femininity and punishes others. The most egregious offenses are carried out against Susan, but even the boys and men in the books are diminished by the requirement to conform to strict manly norms. It is worth noting that things improve markedly in the later books, and it’s not the purpose of this post to argue the point (a simple Google search will suffice to educate you if you’re curious).

But I have great affection for these stories, and I didn’t want to tear them down. I needed to redeem them. I wanted to write the story of Narnia as it might have been: a story where women could be both queens and witches, where animals were true citizens, where the wild beauty of pagan spirituality met something deeper and truer than allegory.

That impulse became Crown of Crows, and it’s taken me ten years to complete.

Fiction as Spiritual Practice

I’ve written before about fiction as a shamanic journey. The act of writing, I believe, operates directly on our subconscious, working with symbols that hold meaning beyond our conscious understanding. When you write, you’re not just telling a story; you’re engaging in trance-work, manipulating images and archetypes that speak to something ancient in the human psyche. You are speaking in one of Spirit’s languages, and your tales have profound power.

So for me, writing Crown of Crows was a journey of spiritual exploration. Sarah Patrick (my version of Susan Pevensie) returns to the fantasy world she once ruled as Queen Sarah the Gentle. But this time, she doesn’t have to just defeat an army of invaders, or a Witch wielding magic from the dawn of time. She must learn what it means to truly listen: to trees, to animals, to the land itself. And to listen to her own voice, which she silenced years ago so that she could survive in postwar Britain.

As I wrote, I found myself listening more deeply, too. To the Bear Seer in the Cave of Midnight. To the naiad Cuaílamba in her mountain stream. To the unicorn Gehwa and her dreams of being the stauliann primm of her herd. To the chuckling language of crows and deep songs of spawning salmon. To the whispers of a dying land that needed, not a savior, but someone willing to witness its pain.

This is animism in practice: the recognition that all beings have voice, agency, and wisdom. Trees and stones and rivers are not resources but relatives. True magic is not domination but relationship.

The Work of Ten Years

Why did it take so long? Partly because of life: job changes, family needs, the usual. But mostly because the work demanded it. I couldn’t rush this. Each character needed time to breathe, so that I could hear their speech properly.

I created Artanga, the language of Artír (Bear Land), built on Irish roots but evolved through millennia of history. I mapped the spiritual ecology of the Shuddering Wood, the Brackenlands, Cúrtt Píria Bíal, Sí Anahr and Sí Andrigann, and the Lantern Wilderness. I sat with Sarah’s grief and fear for months, letting her transform at her own pace.

There were times I thought I’d never finish. The Ape was particularly difficult to write, and his scenes didn’t really come together until I had processed, at least in part, my feelings about the current state of our nation. But the time I took with it was worth it. The story grew deeper. Sarah’s voice, and all the voices in the book, grew stronger. The landscape kindly waited for me to understand what it needed to say.

What Crown of Crows Is About

At its heart, this is a story about reclaiming true sovereignty. This is not the sovereignty of dominion, but the sovereignty of self-knowledge. Sarah must learn to hear the voices that were silenced by the patriarchal worlds of England and Artír.

And it is about animism. What happens when we truly listen to the more-than-human world? When we recognize that trees and rabbits have opinions, that bears and crows can be seers? The chorus of the land is the first, last, and best teacher.

And it’s about redemption: not the kind granted from above, but the kind that comes from sitting with loss, and the slow, painful work of becoming whole.

Fantasy is not, has never been, only for children, or only for entertainment. It can be a form of seeing, of healing, of returning home to ourselves.

An Invitation

After ten years of this work, Crown of Crows is finally complete. You can read it now on Patreon or purchase it on Amazon.

I’ve made the first part free on Patreon, because I want you to meet Sarah. Follow the White Stag to the Lantern Wilderness. I hope you find that it speaks to you.

Bianahteí fweí na dahracc naof.
Blessings to under the sacred oaks.

Read the first three chapters free on Patreon | Purchase on Patreon | Purchase on Amazon