Manchán Magan’s death at 55 deprives Ireland of one of its most original voices – a writer, broadcaster and traveller whose work consistently broadened our sense of who we are and how we might live. He had a gift for finding the remarkable in what others dismissed as marginal or esoteric, bringing subjects such as folklore, the Irish language, environmental stewardship and the intricacies of our landscape into the mainstream.
What distinguished Magan was not only his range but the irrepressible energy with which he communicated it. His television and radio appearances carried a buoyant humour, a willingness to tease and to test that made his explorations feel like shared adventures rather than lectures.
Television programmes such as No Béarla, in which he travelled across the country speaking only Irish, or Crainn na hÉireann, his celebration of native trees, showed a man unafraid to experiment with form in order to reveal something essential.
His love of Irish was lifelong and unwavering. He wrote about it with erudition but also with playfulness, showing how the cadences of Gaeilge reveal not only a language but an entire worldview. Books such as Thirty-Two Words for Field and Ninety-Nine Words for Rain reminded readers that words are also ways of seeing. He wanted Irish to be lived, not merely studied, and he lived accordingly.
RM Block
The principles he espoused were not abstract. Magan built a turf-roofed home deep in a forest, an experiment in sustainable living that embodied his belief in harmony with the land. Later, as environmental anxieties deepened, he forswore air travel, choosing instead to limit his journeys in order to reduce his carbon footprint. In this, as in his work, he demonstrated that personal choices could echo into the wider world.
Ireland has lost a communicator of rare talent, a man who combined scholarship with mischief and idealism with pragmatism. He leaves behind an invitation to all of us to listen more closely to our language, our land and perhaps to ourselves.
