Neil Miller Gunn (1891–1973)

Since a very enjoyable read of 'The Silver Darlings', another historical Neil Gunn novel has been a mini-ambition, and 'Butcher's Broom' was to be the one. I've walked the landscape a lot, read Prebble and Hunter, and steeped myself a fair bit in the Clearances and emigration history, so I was looking forward to Gunn's poetic prose, evocative landscapes and dialogue styles to explore it all once again. As ever, Et in Arcadia Ego, but what struck me most about the novel was the shifting show more tensions between the strath's native characters. This is no idyll even before the factor, Heller (Sellar) come striding in with Irish troops and then with Scots and torches. The shame that's felt, the weakness, particularly in the men when reading about this period, together with the unquestionable injustice, both from the stealing of the land and the promises made as those enlisted went to fight in the Napoleonic and American wars, are all here in Gunn's depiction. Out of his remarkably evocative landscape with its wet, its darkness and its hard toil for meat, grain, vegetable and peat - and Dark Mairi's lichen dyes and potions - shine occasional lights in the form of ceilidh fires and the odd lazy summer day. And within this strath through its seasons are the people, coming and going, to hardship and back, looking after each other in lean times, laughing, preaching, praying, dancing and working. What I was surprised by were the tensions, between family members, and from household to household, as characters like Davie glowered and threatened to leave, or Elie bravely or meekly accepted her fate with Rob. Seonaid and Murdoch are a light in the dark, and in her own way Dark Mairie bringing colour with her lichens, but it's not enough for this community under such pressures from princes, so I found myself feeling the shame and the helplessness, occasionally energised with the characters by the story-telling and the words of the preacher or the Drover, and mildly incredulous at the community's head-in-the-sand summer before the violent eviction. The ending is perfect, both brutal and loving, resilient and powerless, and a fitting union of tragic-hopeful homecoming and violent-peaceful death. I'll be back to Gunn, for 'Highland River' or 'Sun Circle' some time soon I expect. show less

This is one of the best novels that I have read in decades, though it did not seem so at first.

Blood Hunt started slow and uncertain like a new-foaled colt first on its feet. It hesitated, and at any moment I thought it would trip and fall but it did not. As I progressed, it moved with more confidence, gained its footing, but never broke into a run; as if it kindly waited for me to follow it, keeping a pace ahead of me but always near.

And this was for the best, for any faster pace would have show more left me behind and I would have missed the poetry of the story. Not the kind of poetry with rhymes and rhythms, but poetry of the soul that needs no such artifice. It seemed beyond my reach, my run, but the music of that which I could not fathom rang me like a glass tapped by a spoon.

So drink this, if you will, like a dram of single-malt; follow each sip down to a place inside the centermost point, from which you may look out, watching as people do on the shore, looking always to the sea. show less

As Catrine walked her journey from Helmsdale to Dunster, this book started to become up here as one of my favourites. Gunn's landscape and sea, sometimes still, sometimes riotous, in dark and daylight reminds me of Cormac McCarthy's writing, but with the added benefit that I know the Scottish moorlands, coast and Clearance straths. It was a joy to be taken there again, and at a beautiful, human pace. More and more, after McCarthy, it reminded me of the Odyssey - right to the end where Finn show more sees off his rival suitor. The oral tradition grows and grows through the book, especially when Finn revisits Stornoway, so it's very fitting that its own epic nature reflects those oral epics. At its most real it's at its most beautiful, whether you're deep inside the characters, half-keeping up with their thoughts, or joining Finn and Roddie in their tension, or climbing the sheer cliff with Finn, his heart in his mouth and adrenalin pumping. Of all the episodes in this episodic book, that first trip to Stornoway, through the south of the Pentland Firth, out almost to St Kilda, and then thrashed by the waves in the treacherous bay, was my personal favourite, but every journey, from the very first one, undertaken by Finn's father who he was never to know, Catrine's to Dunster, Finn's to the doctor, to the calm journey back in Finn's (Sulaire-inspired?) boat 'Gannet' - they all had me spellbound. It's a book I'd like to continue, but from Una's perspective perhaps, knowing what she did know, being who she was and not knowing what she didn't know (the dark siren gutting fish on Lewis, the pub fights. But that's because I admired the Bildungsroman nature of it for Finn and wanted the same from a female perspective. And it's a book I didn't want to end - or maybe, to end in Finn's old age, storytelling. show less

I found this to be a somewhat challenging book to read, and a difficult book to review. It's definitely outside my usual genre territory, with elements of the mystical and imaginative that I normally avoid. I suspect it also had a lot more depth than I could comprehend, too. The author was an academic and I expect there are lots of allusions to other literature which I haven't read. Putting those issues aside, I certainly didn't want to quit reading before I reached the end, and it did speak show more to me about Scottish life and people. Did it make me want to read more Gunn? well, maybe (no pun intended!). Did it make me want to read more Scottish literature? Yes - in fact my Americo-Scottish friend Christine recommended a work described in Wikipedia as "...widely regarded as one of the most important Scottish novels of the 20th century", "Sunset Song" by Lewis Grassic Gibbon. That will be my next step on my literary, if not spiritual, journey into the land of my forebears! show less