| When the deciduous trees drop their leaves they’re just asleep – not so the Yew tree, so they can still speak and conspire when the other ones are asleep. And they launch a counteroffensive which in the end, after many, many generations of human lives, will result in the elimination… the complete elimination of the oaks. It’s sort of a genocide. I mean, she preaches peace but actually she’s very wicked. Pat Kenny: This is a metaphor for human existence too. Guido Mina di Sospiro: I’m afraid so, and that’s how I explained the coming into being of that very peculiar Yew wood which is unique in the world, because it shouldn’t be there and there is no equivalent… Pat Kenny: So it managed to defeat the oaks, the invading oaks. Guido Mina di Sospiro: Yes, pushing them across the lake – and they are there now. |
| Pat Kenny: You’ve kind of transplanted Robin Hood as well, haven’t you? Guido Mina di Sospiro: Yes, yes. I have a feeling that Robin Hood must have been Irish, just because he was too rebellious not to be. So I thought, why not? I mean, I’ve linked a lot of myths around this tree. St. Patrick comes there. Robin Hood in my opinion, yes, in a sense comes there and does his things and then goes across the Channel to the bigger island and continues and turns his deeds into an organisation of redistribution of wealth--and it’s all thanks to the Yew. I mean, of course Robin Hood’s bow was made of Yew, as all the bows in the middle ages anyway… Pat Kenny: The timber of the Yew – you mention the bow was made of Yew – I mean, when they were harvesting Yews for timber, what age would they cut down a Yew tree at? Guido Mina di Sospiro: Indifferently. They wouldn’t look at it. In fact, the Franciscan friars, we just learned, at Muckross abbey would sell Yews in exchange for wine – which sounds incredible nowadays, but so it was… I mean, even in London you can actually choose parquet, you know, wooden floors made of Yew. I find that blasphemous, frankly. I mean, I’ve spent twelve years working on the Yew tree. |
| Pat Kenny: Because for the Yew to grow to the position where the wood would be appropriately hard for this… I mean, they would be of a great age. Guido Mina di Sospiro: Yes. It’s very slow-growing. A very slow-growing tree. Pat Kenny: Who is Clare? Guido Mina di Sospiro: Clare is a little French girl who was the first symbol of hope, which she incarnates… And this little girl, she comes with her father. This is the Victorian era and Killarney has now become, strangely enough, a destination for romantic tourists and this French man comes with his little girl – his daughter – and looks at the dilapidated abbey and the Yew inside it and the girl says very simple and nice things to her father, such as “The Yew can speak and he hears us” etc., etc., “He has a heart, he’s lonely” and the father is sort of making fun of her but not too much, in a sense there is that hope. And this is the first time that the Yew tree sees man, or actually woman, I should say, in a different light because clearly there’s a sort of kindred spirit speaking to her… |
| Pat Kenny: And again this is a metaphor, isn’t it, for the female influence on the affairs of the world? Guido Mina di Sospiro: Yes. I think there is a gentler influence, in many ways, and perhaps we should stick to that a little bit. Pat Kenny: Now, there are lots of drawings in the book. Where did those illustrations come from? Guido Mina di Sospiro: Ah, that’s a story within the story. A very good friend of mine, Erensto, has a house on Lake Como next to ours and he’s a painter – a very talented, albeit slothful painter. So one night we were there and I was telling him about The Story of Yew and he said “Oh, wonderful.” The next day he comes up with what is now the illustration to the 13th chapter. And I said, “It would be a good idea to have the whole book illustrated.” By the way, that’s what Aidan Brady had said… “It would benefit from a series of distinguished illustrations.” So I thought, “umm.” I said, “Ernesto, could you please illustrate the book?” “Oh well, we’ll see,” and this and that. Then he went to Paris and he did five illustrations. These five were good, but not enough to illustrate a whole book. So I said, “Well, would you like to come to Miami in Florida?” |