It may not look like much now, but when I was in fourth grade at Denkmann Elementary School, it appeared among the selections offered by the Scholastic Book Club. I was entranced.
This was no wimpy fairy-tale prince in love with a princess. He was a Fighting Prince, strong and powerful. I had never heard of Donegal, but it was obviously a mystical, distant country with castles on high mountains, outlined against an orange moon.
My boyfriend Bill and I both ordered copies. They wouldn't arrive for four to six weeks.
We talked about the book every day. Would the Prince have muscles? Would he have a best man? Would he rescue his best man, who would then sigh "My hero?" and melt into his arms?
We made swords out of cardboard and played "Fighting Prince of Donegal." My brother got to be the villain, who would lock Bill in the dungeon (the lilac bushes outside my house) so I could rescue him.
We often talked about what the Prince looked like. If you read the ad very carefully, you could see that the book was originally published in 1958 and called Red Hugh, Prince of Donegal. That meant a red-head. He must look something like this.
Or, from an adult point of view:
We looked up Donegal in the Golden Book Encyclopedia. It was a county in Ireland, on the northeast coast.
There was a book in the Denkmann Library called Donegal Stories, but it was all fairy tales, which we hated.
Would those books ever arrive?
Bill's big brother Tom told us that a couple of years ago, Disney made a movie version of The Fighting Prince of Donegal, starring Peter McEnery.
"Did he rescue a boy or a girl?" I asked expectantly.
More after the break










