Scottish Book Tour 2025

Every summer when I go to Scotland to work, I order an obscene amount of books from a small independent bookseller in the Scottish Borders. I try to catch up on recent Scottish book publications, but also pick a few that I've heard about over the winter. I try to focus on Scottish authors and publishes, but this year I branched out a little. Thanks you Mainstreet Books for feeding my addiction. 

I usually try to review some of the books I've bought and read, though this year I seem to be reading quite slowly so it's already 2026 and I'm just touching the bottom of the pile. So yes, this is another 2025 book round up.

Kirsten MacQuarrie's book Remember the Rowan published by Red Squirrel Press was unexpected. I'd heard of the book Ring of Bright Water, but knew nothing about its author Gavin Maxwell and I knew of the poet Kathleen Raine and had read a few poems, but her life was not something I had heard about. The book charts their volatile relationship. Raine was in love with Maxwell who was a homosexual. He became her muse for much of her poetry and she was involved with the Maxwell's first otter which was the focus of his most famous book. Remember the Rowan is a big read, well-researched and covering decades of their inspiration and arguments. I enjoyed it, it's very well written. 

The book is a real insight into the life of a woman who plays a midwife to an artist, not a muse, similar to Sylvia Beach and James Joyce, a woman who makes it possible for a man to succeed, even to the detriment of her own work and well-being. For that reason, I couldn't feel good about the story. I felt caught up in Raine's life and turmoil, so much so I wanted to take her for a drink to tell her to get out of the toxic relationship. It shows how intimate and believable a writer MacQuarrie is. 

James by Percival Everett was a book I wanted to enjoy, but I just didn't and I can't put my finger on why. It follows the character of Jim from Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. We follow Jim as his escapes from slavery and goes on the run, meeting Huck. The two books overlap and Everett manages it well, creating a strong character and backstory for him, but I just didn't gel with James or his story. The story sometimes pushes at the reader to shout its message and the ending felt rushed, so I walked away feeling unsatisfied.

On the Calculation of Volume by Solvej Balle, on the other hand, blew my socks off. If I was one of those readers who underlines my favourite lines or sections, the book would be covered with ink. Though not an original idea, a character that is stuck in a loop to repeat one day over and over, it handles it in a totally unexpected way. It is a quiet study, a character who unravels herself over and over within this day and within her relationship with her husband. The language is poetic and soft, a slow dive into the character's mind, and I was hooked from the very beginning. There are currently six books in the series, four of which have been translated into English, the first shortlisted for the Booker last year. Our next trip to Scotland will include a visit to pick up the available volumes. Absolutely breathtaking. 

The Details by Ia Genberg was another Booker Prize shortlisted books by a Scandinavian female author I read last year. A stream of consciousness, a fevered telling, it unravels the character's relationships with various friends and loves over the decades. While the book is well-crafted, I just couldn't find a way into the character. We follow her through her life in intimate detail, yet I felt distanced from her. Sometimes knowing a character's every thought is too much.

Muckle Flugga by Michael Pedersen was a book I considered buying in the summer, but decided to postpone as it was too big and I already had too many. I was given it later unexpectedly and dived in. Set on an isolated lighthouse far north of mainland Scotland, it tells the story of an artist who comes to stay and gets caught up in the life of the lighthouse keeper and his son. The book rollicks and rambles over the sea and island, delighting in its nature and unpredictability. The characters deal with their own storms, young Ouse on the brink of adulthood and all the choices it offers and The Father, the lighthouse keeper, who watches all he has built start to be pulled away by the outsider Firth, an Edinburgh artist who arrives with plenty of baggage. The language is unpredictable and delightful, full of humour and bright poetry and the characters are well-crafted and engaging. The use of Scots is unobtrusive but essential to the atmosphere, bringing all the details together. A fun and engaging read.

Poyums Annaw by Len Pennie is the second poetry collection by the Scots Word of the Day internet sensation. I first stumbled upon her during our Covid lockdown where she shared a new Scots word with a hint of humour and honesty. I love her poem 'I'm not having children' and her poem about the Daft Days, but I hadn't read her first collection or her other works. Len Pennie is now an Scots language advocate, but she also has become a voice for survivors of gender-based violence after facing a lengthy court case of her own and constantly facing internet trolls on her various social media platforms. Her poems cover her own situation and fighting the patriarchy in general, mostly in Scots.  They are honest and acerbic, sometimes tinged with humour. They do not bury the punchline in metaphor, instead they often pack a mean punch. While the rhyming sometimes gets to me, I'm a free verse kind-of-gal, the poems carry the reader along without feeling they are reading literature with a capital L. They are the kind of thing you'd share with your non-poetry pals and the two poems above have been passed on to me from unexpected places. Len often shares recordings of her poetry on social media and her genuine joy of Scots and poetry are infectious. Her poems are really meant to be heard, so if you can get the audio book read by Len herself, I'm sure it's worth hearing them in the author's own voice. 

The Ghost Lake by Wendy Pratt is another memoir-type book written by someone I vaguely know. Wendy Pratt is a poet who runs workshops, offers mentoring and ran the magazine Spelt. I won a mentoring session with her a decade ago and she was a great second set of eyes on my writing. Since then she's had several collections published and now has written a memoir about her journey through grief based around a paleo-lake where she has lived her whole life, a lake that has long disappeared, but left it's mark on the landscape and her life. The history and archaeology within the book are really captivating and are used to peel back the layers of stories. Her journey to find her way in her writing career, through the grief of infertility and the loss of her daughter during her birth and her father's recent death is interwoven with the landscape and the people who have lived there. 

It's not the kind of book I would normally read as it feels a bit like voyeurism, but here the reader is being invited closer to actually walk amongst the story, picking up a shell or stone with the author to connect. Wendy has always been very open about her struggles, on her blog and in her writing. The book touches on a lot of topics close to her heart: rural life, working class struggles, neurodiversity and grief. It shares the overwhelming weight she carries and the chinks of light she has followed to stand above it all, if only for moments. It's a touching tribute to the area and the people who have helped her on her way. 

Fower Pessoas by Colin Bramwell is a book I've just started but already I want to scribble down so many lines. It is a Scots 'translation' of Fernando Pessoa, the Portuguese poet known for his heteronyms, alternative personalities that he took on to write his poems. There are so many layers upon layers within this book, Bramwell to Pessoa to his heteronyms, Scots to English to Portuguese, that I imagined it would be a difficult read. However, the poems have a friendly feel like sitting with a slightly drunk Glaswegian poet hearing their thoughts about the world. There's philosophy swirled with humour and sarcasm, insight below the mocking. I'm really enjoying it, so far. 

Though he doesn't say it in his acknowledgments, I think this is a version of subversive translations as in the poetry collection I reviewed by Taylor Strickland. Bramwell admits he doesn't speak Portuguese well and these poems are moved in time and place to modern Glasgow, the heteronyms taking on a Scots personality and language. They are responses to Pessoa and our own restless times and to Scotland's own identity, all wrapped up in its own antisyzygy. I read some Pessoa after I came back from Lisbon a few years ago, I'll have to dig them out again and remind myself of their own voices, but I'm already enjoying the use of Scots, the sense of movement and freedom of the poems. There a sense that there's no pinning them down. 

Finally a publication note for myself, first of 2026, my poetry has been included in Helsinki Writers Group's 2025 anthology. Go here to check it out. 

So goodbye 2025 and welcome 2026. I have no plans or resolutions, just keeping my eyes open to see what the year holds for me. Best of luck to us all. 

Midsummer

It's midsummer, when Finnish people turn away from the cities and towards the water and the forest, relax and be themselves. As much as I don't usually like summer, the heat, the beaches, etc, it's the season I like in Finland most of all. Mainly because the rest of the time is the long winter or the lead up to it.  

The weather has finally started to warm up to summer level, over 20C, which makes going to the water bearable. The river is still cold, but it's warm enough to manage a dip. Lakes are better. I won't even attempt the sea this early on. The kids are struggling to get into summer mode, all their friends having left for holidays. We don't have a summer cottage so we're just hanging about the city, doing small things just to slowly immerse ourselves. 

I'm still on my go-slow summer, writing in the morning, working on the house or garden or doing something with the kids in the afternoon. Summer is fresh fruit and thunderstorms, always having dirt under my fingernails no matter how hard I scrub and the window open at night. It's ice cream and sleeping in, museums and cafes, it's writing when I want. Long days, nights without boundaries. I don't want it to end, but I have my summer course in Scotland soon which follows midsummer and starts the descent back into the real world. 

Just like my poems are seasonal, my pictures are. Right now I have lots of poppies and irises from my garden. A Finnish midsummer poem previously published in the Helsinki Writers Group and in Porridge. 

Yötön Yö*

The fluttering ribbon of blue
outwith my window deepens
but holds fast to the birches. 

I welcome a thirst for black cherries
bursting over my hands,
blooded with the waiting abundance.

Beyond, in a rhythm I can’t understand
bonfires blaze on the shores,
fed by a dancing wind of flowers.
The country eases back.
beneath the slow-whirl of the sky.

 

*Finnish ‘nightless night’, Juhannus, mmidsummer.

I'm still writing a bit everyday, poems and fragments. When I go to Scotland I'll do more journaling than creative writing though I hope to keep up the practice of writing everyday. I'll take a new notebook with me as my current one is almost full (the joy of notebooks!!) and write everything there, rather than take my writing notebook and my journal. 

I have ordered a pile of books from the local independent bookstore so will make a short trip there to collect them and hopefully we'll look around some when the group goes to Edinburgh, so I'm looking forward to that. I'm trying not to pack to much so I can fill my suitcase with books on the way back. I'll try to do a review of my purchases when I come back - my Scottish Book Tour review. I always try to buy some Scottish books, though I end up with a very full mixed bag. 

It's been raining quite heavily the past few days (it always takes me a while to write these blogs). Getting me ready for Scotland, I guess. I can't wait. Though it's pretty intense to take a bunch of kids to another country, they are old enough to be pretty responsible and I get to teach about Scottish culture, history and literature, so I always enjoy it. So it's not quite my regular teaching job. There's still a bit of time before I have to think about that. 

Make the most of the summer, rain or shine. Enjoy. 

Scottish Book Tour: Scotland Ten Years On

My attempt at Substack didn't work, so I'll stick to notes there and my blog here. 

The sun's back. Two weeks ago I had solar panels installed and then Finland went into autumn mode with mists and overcast darkness. It's good to have this burst of sunlight to make the huge cost seem worthwhile. The cats and I have been recharging our batteries in pools of light, though the throw blanket has found it's way back to the couch. I'm not ready to turn the heat on yet. 

The trees are just starting to turn, hints of gold and red around the edges. We're about a month behind season-wise. I have pictures of the kids from past years, knee-deep in piles of leaves. Gold birch coins and mushrooms are just starting to sprinkle the lawn. 

My pictures also show the Scottish Independence Referendum from ten years ago, September 18. My social media is full of people remembering, many mourning the loss. It's still a blow, especially after Brexit and the recent mess in the Scottish Government. The possibility of independence seems further away than ever before. 

Speaking of Scottish, I'm still trying to work my way through the pile of books I bought this summer in Scotland. I picked up a few older books that I had never read, including Jackie Kay's Trumpet and some George Mackay Brown titles. 

I also tried John Burnside's Dumb House. I haven't been able to get through it. It reminds me a lot of The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks which I love. Burnside was a poet, novelist and editor who recently died and I had never read any of his work. But I couldn't get into this book, the main character is messed up. The book starts with him just saying that he's fed a set of twins poison, similar to Banks' character Frank announcing he'd killed three people so far in the opening scene. I couldn't find anything redeemable in the main character, even though the book tries to show the loss that led to his horrible actions. I may go back to it as it's impelling to find out about the twins, but I just can build up any sympathy for the main character. 

Trumpet, however, really builds empathy for the characters, Millie and Colman, the wife and son of a famous trumpeter Joss Moody who has just died. Joss's secret is out and his family are left to deal with the aftermath of the explosion left between them, Millie by hiding herself away and Colman by exploring his father's past with a journalist. Here the backstory doesn't truly explain Joss' choices but lays a foundation for the person he becomes. The writing is beautiful and quite raw with emotion, beautifully done.

And beautiful isn't quite the right adjective for George Mackay Brown's seminal novel Greenvoe. Wrapped in myth, landscape, history and humour, Greenvoe is a village full of character and characters set on an imaginary Orcadian island. Their secrets are all laid bare and knit into the village's spirit, Alice has seven children all named after the men she had affairs with, guileless Timmy buys his meths for his Tilley lamp, but everyone knows he drinks it himself and the school teacher impotently lusts after the ferryman who has his eye set on a bigger prize. Mackay Brown builds up a close-knit community that doesn't always have each others' best interests at heart. When modern incursions of an secret industry called Dark Star threaten the island, the villagers have little choice, but to accept their own natures. The writing is poetic, woven with sea and island culture. This is no surprise as Mackay Brown is also a brilliant poet. An absolute gem and I'm looking forward to my next book by Mackay Brown. 

It's been over ten years since I left Scotland and almost twenty since I completed my Masters in Scottish Literature and there's still so much to explore in its literature. 

No real news in my own writing. Moving forward slowly. 

If anyone is interested in Scots language, the Dictionary of the Scots Language has their own version of Wordle - https://www.macwordle.co.uk/ which is quite fun. 

Writing A Life

After a week of heat, autumn rain has hit my little corner of Finland this morning, so I'm soaking up tea and writing since I couldn't manage to sleep in. Back to school blues. I'm happy to be back to work, love meeting the kids again, but miss the slow starts to the day and the empty calendar. 

This last weekend I downloaded all my posts on this blog to a Word file. Yes, I was procrastinating writing poetry, we won't go into that. 

It got me thinking about how much I write about my life and my swirling thoughts. I keep a journal, not every day, but regularly. I write in this blog, I've kept various blogs over the years. I've been in online forums where I've posted regularly in a daily update thread. I've even come across a gardening journal I kept for a few years of what I planted, what the weather was like. I obviously have an obsession to chronicle my life. 

Over the years I have downloaded all this online journalling and have so many files. I could stitch them together to get an interesting view of the past twenty years of my life, from a writing point of view, as a mother (from parenting boards) and just about life in general. It would be reams and reams of words though, this blog alone takes over two hundred A4 pages. 

Twenty years of blogs, 40 years of journals and over 30 years of poems. Which all basically add up to my life story. I can't imagine what I could do with it.

A friend recently wrote a memoir, a non-fiction meditation on her life. I say recently, but she obviously spent years writing it. I'll review it below. I can't imagine writing a memoir. I wouldn't know what angle to take or what theme to spin around. I have done lots of things, lived in some interesting places, lived through 50 years of events, I even taught a writing your life course for a couple of years and I'm no stranger to exposing my life through my poems, but I wouldn't know where to begin. What makes our lives interesting to others? What obsession can we share?

Or have I already begun? I'm tempted to start bringing together the different pieces year by year, to see what I was doing and where I was mentally. It would be a huge job, a distraction. 

In my early journals, I didn't write about what was going on in the world. I was a teenager and was more focussed on what was going on in my own little bubble. I doubt that would have much of a wider appeal. Things get more interesting as I get older and better at writing, go to university, to Scotland, become an adult, enter a relationship and have children. Though I occasionally look over the parapet, I still focus on my own internal world, worries and dramas. And none of it is too dramatic, maybe not enough to write a memoir. 

So I'll probably just keep writing, an archive of my life to leave behind. I'm sure it'll give my kids a laugh. Maybe it'll end up in a museum of Generation X - following my journey from eight tracks to X.com and beyond. 

A quick review of Storm Pegs by Jen Hadfield as I've just finished it. I've mentioned here before that I'm not good with non-fiction. I try to read it but always leave the text unsatisfied. That sense of trying to make meaning of the randomness of our life, to wrap things together, not with a neat bow, but into a useful bundle of sticks often feels forced to me which is probably why I couldn't write one. 

Storm Pegs follows the poet's life in Shetland as she tries to discover 'where am I?' As to be imagined, it's full of poetic wonderings at the Shetland landscape and sea, travels to different corners and islands, learning about the language, the culture and people. It's lush with details and unravellings. 

Jen Hadfield fights against the idea that Shetland is isolated or remote and draws beautiful connections between the community, her neighbours and the creative scene in Shetland. But there is a sense that she's quite comfortable in being hunkered down in her caravan, strapped down against the elements and prefers that edge-of-the-world feeling, that the sparse spaces and distance are something she craves. 

She doesn't try to show us how we should live, where to take your next holiday or how to find the poetic in your daily lives. This is the smallest glimpse of what her Shetland life is, make your own conclusions. 

Jen is an amazing poet, with an eye for the small awkward details of the world, so I knew the writing would be exquisite. From her poetry, I knew she would draw me into the Shetland culture and wade through its language, scooping up glimmering fragments as she does glowing algae. I wasn't disappointed. 

She also gives us a hint of the day-to-day, making a life where she has no history, where she can write her own story as Poet as a neighbour calls her. It's not always simple, of course, but she finds patterns of beauty in even cutting open worms when she needs a non-poetic job to pay the bills. It was lovely to wrap myself in her world for a short time and it left me wanting more. Maybe Jen should start a blog, lol. I wish her the best of luck in the next stage of her adventure. 

Enjoy your weekend. 

Subversive Translations - More than Just the Gist

It's the longest day tomorrow. Juhannus in Finland, when the Finns douse themselves in summer; light bonfires, go to sauna, jump in lakes and leave the city. It'll be a quiet day for us. Everything's closed, we don't have a summer cottage to retreat to. It's one of those weird holidays where if you didn't grow up with it and have the associated traditions connected, you wander around feeling out of sorts. It's important, but you can't place why. It always leaves me feeling a little out of sync. 

A new poetry delivery this week, Dastram/ Delirium by Taylor Strickland. Published by Broken Sleep Books, I chose this collection because it is 'versions' of translations of Scottish Gaelic poetry. I've half-heartedly studied Gaelic since I first lived in Scotland in 1991 and have an interest in its poetry, but not the skill to read it. I'd heard of the poet the collection is based on, Alasdair Mac Mhaighstir Alasdair, but had never read his work. The first person to publish a Scottish Gaelic book, the first Gaelic-English dictionary, he is also considered one of the foremost Gaelic poets and his life was connected to many of the most important Scottish events during his lifetime. 

But beyond the historical interest, I was intrigued by Strickland's translations because this collection won a Poetry Society Translation Choice Award while he says he doesn't speak much Gaelic. The answer to the questions raised by that last sentence is Subversive Translation. According to Strickland via the poet/translator Rody Gorman, subversive translation is 'less a technical methodology and more an accountability act that represents the text through translations, but which accepts the failure in worthwhile translation as sufficient in its own right'. 

I don't claim to totally understand the concept, but my gut is saying these translations owe more to the author's interpretation of the text rather than the exact translation of the words. This appeals to me as this is how I exist in Finnish at the moment. I have enough of the language to understand the gist, mood or theme of a text or a conversation, but I cannot directly translate or understand the nuance and details. If I read a poem in Finnish I can get something, but it's heavily weighted towards my surface understanding of the words rather than a deep dive into the language, the place and the time it's coming from. I also hang my own sense of self, place and time over the poem. 

And this I feel is what Strickland is doing. The first section of poems, praise poems to a lover Morag, are already erotic in the original Gaelic, especially considering they were written by a minister's son (the translation of his name) in the 1700s. The subverted translations in this collection bring a modern sense to the poems, stylistically and thematically. They are loose, savouring the modern freedom of playing with the language in English and with social mores. There's no pulling punches here, but there is a beautiful sense of forbidden and furtive love throughout this selection,

I left you and you left
a burr of whispers in my head, 
a beehive of sex and nectar,

blocked up my nose
as I inhale lenten rose,

                    ('Crùnluath') 

As I can't read the Gaelic well enough to know what's been changed, how the music is different from the rhythms of the original Gaelic, how the poet has adapted them to English, I can only get caught up in his versions. They are like hearing one side of the conversation with the original poems. A chance to embrace being out of sync. They acknowledge their traditional roots, but subverting 'worthwhile' translations opens them up to new generations of poetry readers, those who speak Gaelic and those who don't. They made me want to explore more about the original poet and his poems which is always a sign of a good book for me.

Happy midsummer to you. 

Translating the Cooler Winds of Summer

School's out for the summer and it's such a relief. I've left June free of trips, so the kids can relax, I can catch up on appointments, studying and house stuff and we can enjoy sleeping in. Though a week in and our schedules are already turned upside down. 

We've had weeks of amazingly warm weather, unusual for Finland. But it's gotten a bit chillier, around 15C which doesn't bother me as I'm not big on extreme heat. Anything over 21C is too hot for me. The birch pollen has eased up, so I can go out and work in the garden and allotment. I've been building veg boxes, but a month without rain means the soil is rock-hard and I can't dig to clear a space for the last one. A bit of rain is always welcomed. 

The writing course I was doing in April for the GloPoWriMo is done, so I'm in the process of seeing what I can salvage and develop through editing. But I miss the excitement of prompts and trying to find a way into them every day. I've been wandering through various poets' and writers' accounts looking for something to inspire me. Even with all my free time, I'm not writing every day, but I still manage to scribble something regularly.  

Every summer I buy a pile of books when I'm travelling. I try to get through them during the rest of the year, but there are always a few that get set aside. I've seen a quote from Umberto Eco recently about not worrying about having unread books which appeals. I think it's kind of like knitters saying they can never finish all their projects or use their entire stash of yarn, it's comforting knowing there's always something I haven't read yet on my shelves. A little adventure waiting. I try to review some of the ones that really grab me. 

I recently picked up one of the books I bought last year and haven't found time to read yet. I originally heard the poet and translator Brian Holton on the Lantern Scottish Poetry podcast last summer and fell in love with his Scots translation of Chinese poets. The way he explained his decisions as a translator and poet just captivated me and the Scots versions brought the two cultures together in such an unexpected way. He drew me into his process which intrigues me with poets and I often wonder how translators work on poetry. 

So I had to buy a copy of his work, choosing Hard Roads and Cauld Hairst Winds from Taproot Press. The collection is translations of the Chinese poets Li Bai and Du Fu who I previously knew nothing about. I've only dipped in a few times, but every poem is so fun and evocative. 'Bouzin Ma Lane Ablow the Moon' is a series of four poems where the poet is drunk and considering the moon, the world around him and being alone. The Scots translation and the theme are reminiscent of Hugh MacDiarmid's poem 'Drunk Man Looks at a Thistle' or Robert Burns. With the translation of place names to Scots it's easy to forget this is a 7th-century Chinese poet who is speaking, the situation and emotion are so recognisably modern. I really loved the melding of worlds in these poems.

Publication news: I was recently published in thi wurd's anthology, Earthly Rewards, a mix of poetry, fiction and experimental writing. It's an honour to be included in such a brilliant collection of writers in such a beautiful, substantial publication.

I'm having a lovely, quiet weekend of writing and a slow working through of small jobs. I wish you some time to yourself as well. Relish it.  

Slowing Down into the Summer, Summer, Summertime

School is finally done and the sun is shining. The weather has been amazing, so hot and clear. Not great for the garden or the forests to go so long without rain, but the long days of light and heat are a relief. Beach weather, park weather, proper summer weather while we off to enjoy it. 

Appointments are winding down and most alarms are turned off. I'm trying to make the most of each day, doing a mix of things I want, things that need to be done and things I should do. So a little housework and repair, big cleaning, gardening and, of course, writing. I have a huge puzzle to finish from Christmas, a cardigan I started years ago, my genealogy research is never-ending. 

I had two weeks after school finished to do what I wanted, but now I have a visitor here and then summer school in Scotland to teach English for ten days. After that's done, I'll be able to focus on having a more relaxed summer. I'm not writing much while my guest is here, but I still get a few minutes here and there. 

I'm enjoying what I'm writing now. My style has changed a bit over the past year. My poetic style is always changing, but I sometimes get caught in a loop of subjects or styles, writing very similar poems for a period and when something comes along to shake me up, I find it refreshing. 

I use prompts to push me out of my rut. Writing from different points of view, occasionally trying a structured form (I'm currently trying to write a palindrome) and looking into unusual events for inspiration. I've even managed to put a bit of humour, sometimes black humour in my poems, playing with ideas that often aren't found together. 

I hope while I'm on my course I'll have time in the evenings to write and continue with this new mood. 

A wee book review of a new Scottish title: I recently read Angus Peter Campbell's Electricity. I'd heard a lot about it and had hoped to be blown away by it. But it's not that kind of book, it doesn't make you want to steam through it, to see how it ends. It's a slow read, a wander through a world that barely exists now and you don't want to rush through it. It sneaks up on you. 

It's a reminiscence of a grandmother, writing to her Australian grandchild about her Hebridean upbringing on an unnamed Scottish island. The people still speak Gaelic and cling to traditional ways in the wake of electricity and an airport coming to the island. 

It's not a novel, in a traditional sense. There are beautifully drawn characters, the speaker Annie, her family, a local shepherd who resists all change, her friends and neighbours. There's not much of a plot other than change is coming to the island. Annie writes what starts out as a letter, but it soon meanders beyond that, skipping through time and theme to draw a warm, comforting picture of a community steeped in traditions and memories. 

I don't believe the book is set on any particular island but seems to connect closest to North and South Uist and Benbecula with its tiny airport. It looks at subjects important to the history of the Hebrides; migration, language, the culture of ceilidhs and farming. Annie's parents and some of her neighbours cling to the traditions of paraffin lamps and peat fires as electricity tempts others with the simplicity of electric fires, refrigeration and lights. But we know how the story ends and from the beginning, there is a sense of loss that too much of this way of life has been lost. 

Campbell's Electricity does a beautiful job of capturing island life and Gaelic culture. It is a reminder to slow down and take note of what is going on around you, right now. 

Enjoy your summer. 

2022 Writing Review

I thought when I finished my course (I finished my course!!!) and handed in that last assignment I'd have more time to do things that had been shuffled aside these last three months and for most of 2022 really. But here I am three weeks later and I feel like I'm still struggling to get on with things. I'm unsure if it's a lack of motivation, the lack of a whip encouraging me to move forward or the fact that we're still buried under a dark and snowy winter here in Finland that's holding me back. 

It's taken me a week to even write this entry, but here it is, halfway through  January and I'm just looking at my submission and writing stats for 2022. 

34 new poems written  

84 submissions to journals or other opportunities

4 books submissions

66 rejections

4 book rejections

28 acceptances

53 poems published in 26 publications 

15 blog posts   

Acceptance rate: 32% 

Compared to 2021:

61 new poems

144 submissions to journals or other opportunities

3 book submissions

108 rejections 

5 book rejections

38 acceptances 

68 poems were published in 39 publications

21 blog posts

Acceptance rate: 26%

I submitted and wrote less, so I didn't hit my 100 rejection goal. However, my acceptance rate has jumped up again and I've had a couple of exciting projects over the year. This includes lots of audio work: my iamb poetry page, working with the Helsinki Writers to produce a poetry recording with Helsinki Open Waves and the Eat the Storms poetry podcast.

I've also had work included in Fevers of the Mind, Sunday Mornings at the River, Empty House Press, Black Nore Review, Scrawl Place, Frogmore Papers, Fly on the Wall, The Martello and Black Bough among others. Of course, my poetry collection still wasn't published, but I'm trying not to think about that. 

A few books that I've read and enjoyed in 2022: 

Karen Campbell's Paper Cup. A total surprise that I picked up in Helsinki. I knew nothing about it but saw the author had worked at the Glasgow City Council, so I was intrigued. The characters were so well-drawn and engaging, and the story was unexpected and fun. I loved the settings of Glasgow and Galloway, the use of Scots that fit so well. The story is a "stramash of memories" for the main character and me, going through Glasgow and university life around the same time I was there. Really worth reading.

I rattled through the three Laidlaw books by William McIlvanney and loved them. Crime novels with a depth of character and Glasgow sketched in such a beautifully realistic way, totally captivating. I also read Docherty which was an insightfully written family saga, but it just didn't grab me in the same way though I could see McIlvanney's deft skill in many places. 

Another fave was Merryn Glover's Of Stone and Sky based on a community in the Cairngorms. My reviews of some of these books can be seen in my Scottish Book Tour posts starting here.

I have a pile of poetry books to read, but they require more focus than I've had recently, so I hope to get back into reading them more now that my course is out of the way. 

2023 is a year of getting back into the things I love. The course was for my work. I enjoyed it, but it was more to help me move forward in my job and do better for my school kids. Writing is for me, so I hope to focus on that more. A few plans are crawling into motion, so I'll see how they pan out and keep looking for new opportunities. 

Welcome to 2023. Enjoy. 

Scottish Book Tour Part 4

Already into August with a bump and I started work at the school with the kids last week and it was rough as though I have the same kids, the same room, the same role, we've moved up to middle school, so I know nothing. I don't feel part of the team yet, and no one knows what to do with me, so I'm drifting until we get settled in. It's great being back with the students, but school is much easier when it's just teachers. 

No poetry collections so far for the Sealey Challenge. I'm beginning to doubt I'll manage much. I read fiction before bed. It's my wind-down activity before sleep. I can't read poetry then or not a whole collection as I can't focus well enough. Fiction keeps me engaged just enough to last a half hour until the melatonin kicks in. I think I'll maybe read a poem a night from a new/old collection I'm excited about. 

I'm still reading through my Scottish book haul pile. I just finished The Second Cut by Louise Welsh. I read and enjoyed her first novel The Cutting Room back when it first came out and actually read a chapter as I was in a writing group with Louise for a brief time before it was published. Even in draft, you could see that the book was going to be a success, rich details of character and place, an intriguing mystery plot. 

The Second Cut is a follow-on with the same main character Rilke, an art and antiques auctioneer in Glasgow after a 20-year break. The post-Covid world is different in many ways, but greed and crime are the same and Rilke becomes involved in mysterious events through his job and his social life when a friend mysteriously dies. Welsh captures a different side of Glasgow, Grindr hookups intermeshed with the antiques world while delving into its criminal side that hits both. As with many novels in the crime/mystery genre, the who done it isn't as important as the character's development and journey. I found myself caught up with Rilke as he unravelled the plot, his friendships and loyalties and those he could not bring himself to trust. I know authors often hate to get boxed in with a character in a series, but I wouldn't mind reading more with Rilke. A great piece of Tartan Noir writing. 

I also read Hex by Jenni Fagan this week. It's a short book, but I rattled through it in a few sessions as I was so caught up in the character of Gellis Duncan, a young girl tortured, examined, tried and executed as a witch in Scotland in 1591. The novel is part of Polygon's Darkland series which looks at events in Scottish history with a new eye. In Hex, Geillis is visited in her cell on the night before her death by a modern witch Iris who crosses the ether to find her. She brings Geillis small comforts, but also tells her women are still hurt and killed for their beliefs and for just being a woman in our time. It is a touching and beautifully written book that screams and cries for women throughout history. Scotland has apologised for the witch trials recently but has yet to pardon the women. Hopefully, books like this will raise awareness of this dark side of Scottish history. 

Scottish Book Tour Part 3

Last day of summer break before I go back to work, a week before my class comes back. It's been a strange summer, back to travelling, a bit of relaxing, a bit of personal stress. The kids are old enough to entertain among themselves, but not good at going out to find their friends due to Covid, so I think they'll be excited to go back to school.

Getting to go back to Scotland twice was amazing. Once on my own to Lewis and Harris with lots of writing and relaxing, once with some of the kids to Glasgow to see friends and family. Both were pretty perfect. After my big book haul in Ullapool, we also hit the bookshops in Glasgow. My younger son has gotten into manga, so Forbidden Planet became his Mecca and after he struggled for so long to get into reading with dyslexia, I was happy to oblige him. Luckily the airline didn't weigh our carryons as I think between the two of us they were a bit heavy with books.

With the travelling, I just managed to finish Ponies at the Edge of the World by Catherine Munro this week. I have to admit I'm not a real non-fiction reader, I struggle with being told what connections to make when reading, but I was a pony-crazy girl, so this seemed a natural draw to me, Scotland and ponies. 

The book's not really about Shetland ponies, though they are the hook that drew the author to Shetland as well as me to the book. Munro uses ponies and the relationship between man and animal in an environment to look at her own developing relationship with the Shetland Islands and how she found her own place within it. Filled with beautiful descriptions of the ponies and other native animals and landscapes, Munro draws us to the beauty of the islands. 

It's her descriptions of the local people I found more interesting. She doesn't shy from the Shetlandic language and shares some local traditions and customs, but she was also able to capture how the small population spread out over the islands manages to create a strong sense of community, between each other and the land. Her non-fiction asides on adaptation and connection to place which were part of the research that took her to Shetland were applied to the ponies and the people and herself, but didn't feel too heavy-handed. 

Ponies at the Edge of the World shares a unique view of the Shetland Islands and its people and animals, connected to each other and their landscape and how choosing to be a part of this place requires a sense of personal adaptation and acceptance. Worth a read. 

August is the Sealey Challenge month, to read a book of poetry a day for the entire month. It's already the second and with school starting for me tomorrow, I know it isn't going to happen. I did pick up some poetry books in Scotland, so my goal is to read them over this month. I post on Twitter first and then collect them here as I did last year. 

Scottish Book Tour Part 2

Merryn Glover's Of Stone and Sky.  

As I read this novel, I found myself asking how can one book encapsulate so much of the Scottish rural experience? It appears to be a multi-generational family drama, but from the beginning widens to include a village, a strath, a community and a whole way of life. 

The novel focuses on the Munros, a shepherding family, Gideon and Agnes, their sons Colvin and Sorley, adopted daughter Mo and Colvin's wife and children. The details of their farming life are lovely depicted, the harsh mingled with the beauty. But it is also a lament for the loss of this way of life in modern society. The sheep that once supported entire communities in Northern Scotland are now often relegated as tick mops for game animals. 

Situated in the Cairngorms, the novel also highlights Scotland's natural treasure with rich language. It also doesn't shy from the bleaker truths: the deforestation of Scotland, disputes between the needs of large estates in the Highlands and locals and the attempt to find a balance between how to use the land, for wildlife, forestry, agriculture and tourism.

Glover also brings in themes such as rewilding, community land buyouts, struggles between the classes, the question of foreigners buying up Scottish land and the loss of the native culture and language, including Gaelic as well as the Travellers. The novel is nicely balanced so that no voice is too strong, there are lairds that try to help the community; there are non-Scots that find a way to fit in and add their colour to the local scene, but the opposite is never white-washed away. 

In trying to write this review, I kept stumbling over the word community and that is what this book is about. The Munro family is central, but their story feels a bit too neat at times. While I grew to love the almost silent character of Colvin, the true main character is the community, the shepherds, the gamekeepers, and the families struggling to keep their homes and jobs. The novel is about the change in Scottish rural communities from before the world wars and the narrator Mo is the voice of that community who tells everyone's story, but in the end, can offer no answers. 

Merryn Glover's prose depicts the place, the people and the culture of various times so vividly, weaving a story that brings many disparate but vital threads of Scotland together, illustrating especially the Cairngorms. I learned a great deal reading this book about Scotland's history and its present troubles, wrapped up in a compelling story.  An amazing read. 

I'm off to Scotland again soon, so might have a few more books to add to the ones I'm still working my way through. 

Scottish Book Tour Part 1

One of the issues living in a non-English speaking country as an avid reader is getting the books I want to read. I can order books, especially from the big evil online bookseller which I desperately try to avoid, but sometimes getting specific books from smaller presses is difficult. And I miss the kid in a candy store moment of having a whole shop of English books to choose from. 

So when I started organising my trip to Scotland last month, one of the first things I did was check out the possibilities of finding English language bookshops near my route. As I was going to the far north, there were only two small shops, no big chains, so I thought I'd better order in what I wanted in advance. 

The Ullapool Bookshop was nice enough to find almost all the books on my list, though some weren't available in time for my trip. I was going to pick them up on the way home but forgot to pack the book I was reading before I left, so I stopped in before I caught the ferry to Lewis. So I got the pleasure of dipping into the hoard during my trip. 

One of my goals was to write short reviews here of the books as I read them. My selection mostly includes Scottish writers with some poets. 

The first book I dived into on the trip was William McIlvanney's The Papers of Tony Vetch - all his books mentioned are available here. Author Ian Rankin's collaboration to finish McIlvanney's last Laidlaw novel was released last year and it took me a while to get a copy. I read The Dark Remains and was intrigued to find out how much was Rankin and how much was McIlvanney, how much of Rebus was inspired by Laidlaw. 

I bought Laidlaw earlier in the year and was blown away, especially by the character's take on Glasgow, a city where I lived for over a decade. I have to admit I'm hooked. The detective stories are just vehicles for the character's musings on the world, for the rich prose, but they carry them well while keeping the reader engaged with the plot. All three of McIlvanney's books are amazing for playing with language and imagery, but the last one, Strange Loyalties, the only story told in first person from the point of view of the disheartened detective is raw and powerful. I actually dragged it out, so I could enjoy it for longer. I cannot praise these books enough and Canongate have rereleased his other books, so I have a few tucked in my Christmas wish list. 

I studied Scottish Literature back in the day and one of my interests was literature in the Scots language. I can read Scots, but I cannot speak it and sound natural. My own accent always overpowers. Emma Grae is a promoter of the language on Twitter and this was how I came across her novel in Scots novel Be guid tae yer Mammy. 

Reading the novel is like having my friends and family and especially my mother-in-law Jeanie talking in my head. Grae captures the language and the place, a west-Scotland small town, so well. The plot of the novel was unexpected, a family drama that was neither twee, saccharine nostalgia nor dour Scottish misery. It felt balanced with characters that I cared about and a realistic ending. 

The Scots flowed well and I was quickly caught up in it and the story. It wasn't just used for dialogue which is often how Scots authors balance using the language with allowing non-Scots to read it, but gave the book part of its personality. I don't think non-Scots speakers would take long to find their way into the novel, as it wasn't forcing old words into new mouths, but reflecting how it's used every day. As an advocate of Scottish literature and Scots, I'm overjoyed to see the language making its way into more and more books. Emma Grae is already set to bring out her second book in Scots in the near future, so something to look forward to. 

I've started my next book, so will hopefully be able to review it soon. Photos from my stay in Ravenspoint Hostel in Kershader, Isle of Lewis.