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The Hebridean Trilogy #1
The Hills Is Lonely
Book by Beckwith, Lillian
309 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
54 people are currently reading
1608 people want to read
About the author
Lillian Beckwith
47 books73 followersLilian Comber wrote fiction and non-fiction for both adults and children under the pseudonym Lillian Beckwith. She is best known for her series of comic novels based on her time living on a croft in the Scottish Hebrides.
Beckwith was born in Ellesmere Port, Cheshire, in 1916, where her father ran a grocery shop. The shop provided the background for her memoir About My Father's Business, a child’s eye view of a 1920s family. She moved to the Isle of Skye with her husband in 1942, and began writing fiction after moving to the Isle of Man with her family twenty years later. She also completed a cookery book, Secrets from a Crofter’s Kitchen (Arrow, 1976).
Since her death, Beckwith’s novel A Shine of Rainbows has been made into a film starring Aidan Quinn and Connie Nielsen, which in 2009 won ‘Best Feature’ awards at the Heartland and Chicago Children’s Film Festivals.
Beckwith was born in Ellesmere Port, Cheshire, in 1916, where her father ran a grocery shop. The shop provided the background for her memoir About My Father's Business, a child’s eye view of a 1920s family. She moved to the Isle of Skye with her husband in 1942, and began writing fiction after moving to the Isle of Man with her family twenty years later. She also completed a cookery book, Secrets from a Crofter’s Kitchen (Arrow, 1976).
Since her death, Beckwith’s novel A Shine of Rainbows has been made into a film starring Aidan Quinn and Connie Nielsen, which in 2009 won ‘Best Feature’ awards at the Heartland and Chicago Children’s Film Festivals.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 154 reviews
August 11, 2019
I re-read this book after many years, so I could refresh my memory before reading a couple of other books in this series. Hands down, Morag, Lillian's landlady, was my favorite character. Her misuse of words was constantly amusing. Upon seeing an older woman with dementia, she hoped she wouldn't lose her "sanitation" as she aged. She had to send her R. I.P after receiving a wedding invitation, and she never wanted to be "incarcerated" ( incinerated) after her death. All the characters in this book were wonderful though, and I'm amazed that a television series was never made of this. I can see why the author ended up moving to the island herself, the beauty of the landscape was described wonderfully. However, the food and eating habits left something to be desired. Now on to the other two on my shelf.
January 17, 2020
First I'll tell you how I came across this book. I had found one of Lillian Beckwith's books at a second hand store many months ago, and was instantly interested in it primarily because it had been signed by her. I then looked her up and found that she's been deceased for some years now and that made it an instant must add to my collection because I'm a dork like that. I was about to read it recently then realized it was book 6 of 7 of her 'Skye Series'. Fast forward my super gripping story to a month ago, and we find my wonderful wife and I in a different used book store. I hear her say "Hey look, I found another Lillian Beckwith book!". I got super excited and thankful because I'm a dork like that, I instantly look it up and get even more excited because it's book number 1 of said series.
And what a lovely little book it is. Told from her perspective, Lillian Beckwith writes in a very proper English tongue one that speaks to you as if she is sitting right infront of you, telling you her story. It softly rolls with such a gentle flow to it, like a compact little stream, confidently flowing along. This book is so very comforting. Sit down to read this on a cool cloudy spring or fall day with a tea in hand. For the most part, I couldn't put it down.
I already have the other 6 on my to read list in which I'll have to do some deep used book store searching to find the 5 others as this isn't a very popular series. But that's part of the fun in collecting books, isn't it.
And what a lovely little book it is. Told from her perspective, Lillian Beckwith writes in a very proper English tongue one that speaks to you as if she is sitting right infront of you, telling you her story. It softly rolls with such a gentle flow to it, like a compact little stream, confidently flowing along. This book is so very comforting. Sit down to read this on a cool cloudy spring or fall day with a tea in hand. For the most part, I couldn't put it down.
I already have the other 6 on my to read list in which I'll have to do some deep used book store searching to find the 5 others as this isn't a very popular series. But that's part of the fun in collecting books, isn't it.
October 20, 2019
I really enjoyed this book. Lillian needs to go somewhere for a good, long rest due to health issues. Her hilarious initiation into the Hebride's crofting life is contained in this book. There is an entire series of these semi-autobiographical books, and I intend to read each one!
Here's a snippet from the first chapter, to give you an idea of Lillian's gentle humour, and adventurous spirit.
An illness some months previously had led my doctor to order me away to the country for a long complete rest. A timely windfall in the shape of a small annuity had made it possible for me to give up a not very lucrative teaching post in a smoky North of England town, and look around for a suitable place where, within the limits of my purse, I might, in the doctor’s words, ‘rest without being too lazy, and laze without being too restive’.
My advertisement in a well-known periodical had brought an avalanche of tempting offers. England it appeared, was liberally dotted with miniature Paradises for anyone seeking recuperative solitude, and I had almost decided to remove myself temporarily to a Kentish farmhouse when the postman brought a letter which changed my plans completely. The envelope bore a Hebridean postmark; the handwriting, though straggly, was fairly legible, but the words themselves painted a picture as vivid and inviting as a railway poster. It ran thus:
Dear Madam,
Its just now I saw your advert when I got the book for the knitting pattern I wanted from my cousin Catriona. I am sorry I did not write sooner if you are fixed up if you are not in any way fixed up I have a good good house stone and tiles and my brother Ruari who will wash down with lime twice every year. Ruari is married and lives just by. She is not damp. I live by myself and you could have the room that is not a kitchen and bedroom reasonable. I was in the kitchen of the lairds house till lately when he was changed God rest his soul the poor old gentleman that he was. You would be very welcomed. I have a cow also for milk and eggs and the minister at the manse will be referee if you wish such.
Yours affectionately,
Morag McDugan.
PS. She is not thatched.
Mary, reading the letter over my shoulder, dissolved into laughter. We were still chuckling when we went to bed that night, I to dream of a minister in full clerical garb, tearing frantically around a football pitch, blowing a referee’s whistle, while two teams of lime-washed men played football with a cow’s egg—a thing resembling a Dutch cheese—and an old man changed furtively in the kitchen.
Deciding privately to postpone acceptance of the Kentish offer, I wrote next morning to Morag McDugan, excusing myself to Mary by saying that a further reply might provide more amusement. I had to admit to myself, however, that the ingenuousness of the letter had so delighted me that the idea of a possible visit had already taken my fancy. The reply from Morag (already we were using her Christian name) did not disappoint us. Her advice regarding travelling arrangements was clear; obviously she had been instructed by a seasoned traveller, but her answers to my questions about quietness and distance from the sea, etc., were Morag’s own.
Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea its that near I use it myself every day for the refusals.
Mary’s eyelids flickered.
‘What does she have to say about the water supply?’
‘There’s a good well right by me and no beasts at it,’ I read.
Mary shuddered expressively.
‘I’m glad you’re not going there anyway, Becky,’ she said.
‘I believe I am though,’ I said suddenly, but I was thinking out loud, not really having made up my mind.
She stared at me, incredulous. ‘But you can’t, Becky !' she expostulated. ‘Surely you can see that?’
‘Why not?’ I asked defensively. ‘I’m interested in meeting people and finding out how they live and I've never yet crossed the border into Scotland.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ argued Mary. ‘I admit the woman sounds fun, and so does the place; but it’s ridiculous to let yourself be carried away like that. It wouldn’t be in the least funny to live under the conditions suggested by those letters.’
‘I’m sure it would be even funnier,’ I replied, with a flippancy I was far from actually feeling. ‘After all, there can’t be many dual-purpose cows in the world and it’s time someone did something to cheer up those poor lonely sheeps.’
Mary giggled. ‘Don’t be a fool!’ she reiterated.
Her words goaded me to a decision.
‘That’s just what I’m going to be,’ I replied.
4 Stars = Outstanding. It definitely held my interest.
Here's a snippet from the first chapter, to give you an idea of Lillian's gentle humour, and adventurous spirit.
An illness some months previously had led my doctor to order me away to the country for a long complete rest. A timely windfall in the shape of a small annuity had made it possible for me to give up a not very lucrative teaching post in a smoky North of England town, and look around for a suitable place where, within the limits of my purse, I might, in the doctor’s words, ‘rest without being too lazy, and laze without being too restive’.
My advertisement in a well-known periodical had brought an avalanche of tempting offers. England it appeared, was liberally dotted with miniature Paradises for anyone seeking recuperative solitude, and I had almost decided to remove myself temporarily to a Kentish farmhouse when the postman brought a letter which changed my plans completely. The envelope bore a Hebridean postmark; the handwriting, though straggly, was fairly legible, but the words themselves painted a picture as vivid and inviting as a railway poster. It ran thus:
Dear Madam,
Its just now I saw your advert when I got the book for the knitting pattern I wanted from my cousin Catriona. I am sorry I did not write sooner if you are fixed up if you are not in any way fixed up I have a good good house stone and tiles and my brother Ruari who will wash down with lime twice every year. Ruari is married and lives just by. She is not damp. I live by myself and you could have the room that is not a kitchen and bedroom reasonable. I was in the kitchen of the lairds house till lately when he was changed God rest his soul the poor old gentleman that he was. You would be very welcomed. I have a cow also for milk and eggs and the minister at the manse will be referee if you wish such.
Yours affectionately,
Morag McDugan.
PS. She is not thatched.
Mary, reading the letter over my shoulder, dissolved into laughter. We were still chuckling when we went to bed that night, I to dream of a minister in full clerical garb, tearing frantically around a football pitch, blowing a referee’s whistle, while two teams of lime-washed men played football with a cow’s egg—a thing resembling a Dutch cheese—and an old man changed furtively in the kitchen.
Deciding privately to postpone acceptance of the Kentish offer, I wrote next morning to Morag McDugan, excusing myself to Mary by saying that a further reply might provide more amusement. I had to admit to myself, however, that the ingenuousness of the letter had so delighted me that the idea of a possible visit had already taken my fancy. The reply from Morag (already we were using her Christian name) did not disappoint us. Her advice regarding travelling arrangements was clear; obviously she had been instructed by a seasoned traveller, but her answers to my questions about quietness and distance from the sea, etc., were Morag’s own.
Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea its that near I use it myself every day for the refusals.
Mary’s eyelids flickered.
‘What does she have to say about the water supply?’
‘There’s a good well right by me and no beasts at it,’ I read.
Mary shuddered expressively.
‘I’m glad you’re not going there anyway, Becky,’ she said.
‘I believe I am though,’ I said suddenly, but I was thinking out loud, not really having made up my mind.
She stared at me, incredulous. ‘But you can’t, Becky !' she expostulated. ‘Surely you can see that?’
‘Why not?’ I asked defensively. ‘I’m interested in meeting people and finding out how they live and I've never yet crossed the border into Scotland.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ argued Mary. ‘I admit the woman sounds fun, and so does the place; but it’s ridiculous to let yourself be carried away like that. It wouldn’t be in the least funny to live under the conditions suggested by those letters.’
‘I’m sure it would be even funnier,’ I replied, with a flippancy I was far from actually feeling. ‘After all, there can’t be many dual-purpose cows in the world and it’s time someone did something to cheer up those poor lonely sheeps.’
Mary giggled. ‘Don’t be a fool!’ she reiterated.
Her words goaded me to a decision.
‘That’s just what I’m going to be,’ I replied.
4 Stars = Outstanding. It definitely held my interest.
April 11, 2012
I love this book. I didn't want it to end. It's cold and rainy, I'll make hot buttered oatcakes and a pot of tea.
April 26, 2022
I’ve read quite a few books set in the Hebrides of Scotland but this is by far the funniest. The first in a series of semi autobiographical books called the ‘Hebridean Omnibus’ by English writer Lillian Beckwith and published in 1959, the title comes from a letter Lillian receives in reply to her advertisement for a temporary, quiet place to live while she recovers from an unnamed illness. Her current home is in a “smoky North of England town, and she seeks “recuperative solitude” in the country. Lillian receives many replies to her ad from all parts of England and has almost decided on a farmhouse in Kent when a last reply arrives with a Hebridean postmark and signed by Morag McDugan: “Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely . . .” So, despite the concerns of her doctor and flatmate Mary, middle-aged spinster Lillian sets off alone to the isolated “Incredible Island” of Bruach and Morag’s house by the sea.
What follows are 12 closely knit stories (“tales”) about Lillian’s (“Miss Beckwitt”) hilarious and quirky experiences with the tea drinking, peat smoke, mist, mud, turnips, salt herring, ceilidhs, spitting (spitting is an art in these parts), outhouses, Gaelic brogue, “sheeps,” cows, country remedies, bar brawls, and unconventional social events of this tiny fictional village. Although Bruach is fictional and Lillian Beckwith in real life was a married woman, Beckwith and her husband Edward did move from England to Isle Of Skye in 1942 and ran a croft there for twenty years, so she knows of what she writes. An entertaining, unhurried book about a part of the world I’d like to visit someday - for the views and the people, definitely not the food. I’ll pass on the caragheen pudding, winkles, and boiled skart.
What follows are 12 closely knit stories (“tales”) about Lillian’s (“Miss Beckwitt”) hilarious and quirky experiences with the tea drinking, peat smoke, mist, mud, turnips, salt herring, ceilidhs, spitting (spitting is an art in these parts), outhouses, Gaelic brogue, “sheeps,” cows, country remedies, bar brawls, and unconventional social events of this tiny fictional village. Although Bruach is fictional and Lillian Beckwith in real life was a married woman, Beckwith and her husband Edward did move from England to Isle Of Skye in 1942 and ran a croft there for twenty years, so she knows of what she writes. An entertaining, unhurried book about a part of the world I’d like to visit someday - for the views and the people, definitely not the food. I’ll pass on the caragheen pudding, winkles, and boiled skart.
October 20, 2019
These were family favorites when I was growing up. I think my Mom first picked this one up when we lived in Ireland (circa 1962). I've read (and still have copies) of most of them, as do my sisters. Reliable comfort reads -- and very funny!
A good review:
http://www.sonderbooks.com/Nonfiction...
"Lillian Beckwith, a teacher from the north of England, was told by her doctor to take a complete rest somewhere in the country. She advertised for a place, and got a response from Morag McDugan in the Hebrides. “I live by myself and you could have the room that is not a kitchen and a bedroom reasonable.” A later letter told her, “Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea its that near I use it myself every day for the refusals.” Miss Beckwith cannot resist, and ends up arriving in the Hebrides along with a torrential storm. A rough sea crossing and a disreputable taxi brought her to her new home, where she and her luggage were flung over a wall to receive a warm and wonderful welcome.
It’s a tribute to Lillian Beckwith’s sense of humor that she stayed for years, had her rest (?!), experienced the culture and made warm friends. She also produced a delightful book. ..."
A good review:
http://www.sonderbooks.com/Nonfiction...
"Lillian Beckwith, a teacher from the north of England, was told by her doctor to take a complete rest somewhere in the country. She advertised for a place, and got a response from Morag McDugan in the Hebrides. “I live by myself and you could have the room that is not a kitchen and a bedroom reasonable.” A later letter told her, “Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea its that near I use it myself every day for the refusals.” Miss Beckwith cannot resist, and ends up arriving in the Hebrides along with a torrential storm. A rough sea crossing and a disreputable taxi brought her to her new home, where she and her luggage were flung over a wall to receive a warm and wonderful welcome.
It’s a tribute to Lillian Beckwith’s sense of humor that she stayed for years, had her rest (?!), experienced the culture and made warm friends. She also produced a delightful book. ..."
October 22, 2019
The Hills is Lonely was a literary junket: a sweet dish of ‘days gone by’. Set against the surrounding moors of Scotland, this was the first story in a series and a semi-autobiography. In truth, the author moved with her husband Edward to Elgol, Isle of Skye in 1942. Based on her experiences, she published 7 books from 1959 and 1978 beginning with this one.
After reading The Hills is Lonely, I can’t imagine coming up with the majority of incidents that transpired in this remote region on Earth. Her undertaking was that original. The dialect and idiosyncrasies make the story truly unique. The only narratives that I have read that are remotely close to this are James Herriot’s written experiences in Yorkshire in the 1930s and ‘40s.
~~~~~
Because of an illness, Miss Beckwith was told by her doctor she needed a change of scenery. After some letter-writing, she accepted Morag McDugan’s invitation to come live with her in the Hebrides. Though both her best friend and her doctor recommend against this, Miss Peckwitt -what the Scottish villagers call her- decided to go. And, oh, does she go! A wild ride on a boat -she thought she was going to drown- and an assisted lift over a wall -the tides control the main entrance to her landlady’s home- were just the beginning of her wacky adventures.
Morag was a hoot. She was old at the beginning but a sweet dear. She lived in one of two houses located at Number 15. Her brother owned the other house and 3/4’s of the property. So Morag’s mail was delivered to “one quarter of number fifteen” and her brother’s postal deliveries came by way of “3/4’s of number fifteen”.
Wait until you read about Ms. Peckwitt’s first view of a joint Sunday service. Apparently in this neck of the woods there was only one church to be shared by two denominations at the same time! Two words: collection bags.
Let me tell you about one lonely sheep and fourteen miles. Or a visit to the grocer’s shop. Or the niceties of an outhouse or ‘wee hoosie’. I continually found myself shaking my head with a smile on my face. Better yet, just read the story. You can see where I am going. If you luck out and find a copy of this book, cherish it. If not, go to Open Library and read it at no cost. As I did.
After reading The Hills is Lonely, I can’t imagine coming up with the majority of incidents that transpired in this remote region on Earth. Her undertaking was that original. The dialect and idiosyncrasies make the story truly unique. The only narratives that I have read that are remotely close to this are James Herriot’s written experiences in Yorkshire in the 1930s and ‘40s.
~~~~~
Because of an illness, Miss Beckwith was told by her doctor she needed a change of scenery. After some letter-writing, she accepted Morag McDugan’s invitation to come live with her in the Hebrides. Though both her best friend and her doctor recommend against this, Miss Peckwitt -what the Scottish villagers call her- decided to go. And, oh, does she go! A wild ride on a boat -she thought she was going to drown- and an assisted lift over a wall -the tides control the main entrance to her landlady’s home- were just the beginning of her wacky adventures.
Morag was a hoot. She was old at the beginning but a sweet dear. She lived in one of two houses located at Number 15. Her brother owned the other house and 3/4’s of the property. So Morag’s mail was delivered to “one quarter of number fifteen” and her brother’s postal deliveries came by way of “3/4’s of number fifteen”.
Wait until you read about Ms. Peckwitt’s first view of a joint Sunday service. Apparently in this neck of the woods there was only one church to be shared by two denominations at the same time! Two words: collection bags.
Let me tell you about one lonely sheep and fourteen miles. Or a visit to the grocer’s shop. Or the niceties of an outhouse or ‘wee hoosie’. I continually found myself shaking my head with a smile on my face. Better yet, just read the story. You can see where I am going. If you luck out and find a copy of this book, cherish it. If not, go to Open Library and read it at no cost. As I did.
May 19, 2010
This part of the "Hebridean Omnibus" is one of the great re-readable books - a true-ish memoir of a London lady of middle years and a little bit of money who spends a few months recovering from an illness on a remote Hebridean island, falls in love with it and moves there, originally published 1959-64. It is one of the precursors of the A Year in Provence genre, only a hundred times better, less self-conscious, less class-conscious though less "matey," more observant, less sick-making, and completely hilarious. Although completely decent, Beckwith teaches the observant more about the fundamentals of intersexual relations in Scotland than the human mind can really comprehend.
On the other hand, if the person with whom you share your life and hearth is the kind of person who dislikes being read snippets aloud in bed (and who doesn't hate that), this is not the book for you. But as one with a wide experience of life and letters, my advice is to just go ahead and read this despite the very real risk. You will more easily replace a cherished lover whom your reading of Beckwith aloud in bed has driven away than you will find a better book.
But wait, you've got to hear this - the village dance where the admission charge is "Men is 4s.; Ladies 3s. 6d. & pkt soap flakes as usual (no splitting)"
On the other hand, if the person with whom you share your life and hearth is the kind of person who dislikes being read snippets aloud in bed (and who doesn't hate that), this is not the book for you. But as one with a wide experience of life and letters, my advice is to just go ahead and read this despite the very real risk. You will more easily replace a cherished lover whom your reading of Beckwith aloud in bed has driven away than you will find a better book.
But wait, you've got to hear this - the village dance where the admission charge is "Men is 4s.; Ladies 3s. 6d. & pkt soap flakes as usual (no splitting)"
October 9, 2018
I tend to gravitate to this kind of memoir in which the author discovers a new location and culture and then shares the ensuing attempts to better understand the people who live there. However this one lacked appeal for me because, even though Beckwith wrote with an intended humorous slant and claimed to love her new home and friends, her portrayal of the islanders came across as patronizing and mockingly mean-spirited. She drew them as backward, slightly dim-witted clowns while I suspect the reality was less slap-stick ridiculous and more a matter of them being simple folk and individualists. Not the author for me.
February 18, 2020
This is my favorite book. All time favorite. I really put it up there, right with the good book itself. But with that being said, you have to enjoy a few things before you will enjoy this book.
Lillian Beckwith writes in an almost conversational manner. It is very much like sitting with a good storyteller and listening to one yarn after another. They seem to melt into one another, never forced or contrived. It never has a rambling nature to it. It can be very poetic at times. She is a humble person and it radiates in her writing.
You need to have a keen interest in Scotland and especially the Hebrides. I have several lines of ancestors originating here and my curiosity was satisfied. Although my grandfather was about American as you could get, I could see his Scottish blood after reading the antics of the crofters.
Lastly, you have to be able appreciate a novel that is character heavy and not so much plot. The stories are golden but in today's world, many might see them as slow and weak.
I was disappointed to see a few reviewers who felt she was actually making fun of the crofters. I never got that feeling at all myself. She even states many times how much she admires their tenacity and grit. Yes, she may chuckle at some of their unrealistic views but never in a patronizing tone.
And I agree totally with many of the other reviewers who mark these as to be read and re-read again. I know I visit this series often.
Lillian Beckwith writes in an almost conversational manner. It is very much like sitting with a good storyteller and listening to one yarn after another. They seem to melt into one another, never forced or contrived. It never has a rambling nature to it. It can be very poetic at times. She is a humble person and it radiates in her writing.
You need to have a keen interest in Scotland and especially the Hebrides. I have several lines of ancestors originating here and my curiosity was satisfied. Although my grandfather was about American as you could get, I could see his Scottish blood after reading the antics of the crofters.
Lastly, you have to be able appreciate a novel that is character heavy and not so much plot. The stories are golden but in today's world, many might see them as slow and weak.
I was disappointed to see a few reviewers who felt she was actually making fun of the crofters. I never got that feeling at all myself. She even states many times how much she admires their tenacity and grit. Yes, she may chuckle at some of their unrealistic views but never in a patronizing tone.
And I agree totally with many of the other reviewers who mark these as to be read and re-read again. I know I visit this series often.
September 9, 2013
I should have a Re-read shelf; this is my second time through this wonderful series full of unforgettable, quotable characters, set in the wild isolation of 1940's Scottish Hebrides. It's even better this time around. I class this series with: A Year In Provence, Lark Rise To Candleford, Little House on the Prairie, Under The Tuscan Sun, All Creatures Great And Small. My favorite genre of books: while I'm being thoroughly entertained, I'm learning "how they did it" - how people in a culture or time period not my own, went about their daily living.
February 15, 2016
“The Hills Is Lonely” is a memorable true story published in 1959, after Englishwoman, Lillian Beckwith moved to Scotland’s Hebrides. She comically described an ill-educated reply to her advertisement for a peaceful cottage rental. Lillian describes laughing over the phrasing of Morag’s replies, conjuring the impression of a simpleton. Upon arrival at her Bruach croft we learn she is warm-hearted, eager to please, a respected elder, and very smart. The matter is merely that their isle was isolated. She describes customs so peculiar, they had to have been carried from Biblical times! Supplies needed to be ordered and ferried and no one, until Lillian, owned a car.
What makes this novel fun is that Lillian had no interest in teaching modern ways to the people but was on the contrary, eager to immerse herself in their everyday living. She was courteous, helpful, and quick to learn; even if at first it was terrifying to travel a stormy sea by tiny ferry. No one had property gates that weren’t frequently under a high tide, precipitating an unimagined necessity to leap Morag’s property wall. It was daunting and utterly alien to Lillian, the night of her arrival. Proprietors wore multiple hats, like the church leader running the grocery store. He wouldn’t let anyone buy something on a Saturday, that might constitute work on a Sunday!
Lillian conveys this alien, close-knit community with a thoroughness that results in our understanding of these people. Although expected and mentioned minutely, reference to killing animals makes five stars impossible for me. Mainly, we are a star short because the whole of Lillian’s narrative and descriptions are heavy-handed with adjectives and adverbs. They drown every sentence, even action, when many could breeze by briskly. I am however, definitely appreciative enough of her story to locate its sequels.
What makes this novel fun is that Lillian had no interest in teaching modern ways to the people but was on the contrary, eager to immerse herself in their everyday living. She was courteous, helpful, and quick to learn; even if at first it was terrifying to travel a stormy sea by tiny ferry. No one had property gates that weren’t frequently under a high tide, precipitating an unimagined necessity to leap Morag’s property wall. It was daunting and utterly alien to Lillian, the night of her arrival. Proprietors wore multiple hats, like the church leader running the grocery store. He wouldn’t let anyone buy something on a Saturday, that might constitute work on a Sunday!
Lillian conveys this alien, close-knit community with a thoroughness that results in our understanding of these people. Although expected and mentioned minutely, reference to killing animals makes five stars impossible for me. Mainly, we are a star short because the whole of Lillian’s narrative and descriptions are heavy-handed with adjectives and adverbs. They drown every sentence, even action, when many could breeze by briskly. I am however, definitely appreciative enough of her story to locate its sequels.
August 28, 2009
I think goodreads needs a "tried to read and failed" button in the drop-down menu.
I thought I would enjoy this, based on the other reviews here and just the look of the book, but I was unable to push on past page 90.
I thought I would enjoy this, based on the other reviews here and just the look of the book, but I was unable to push on past page 90.
February 28, 2023
It's been a long time since I've read a book that simply delighted me, but that's what The Hills is Lonely did for me. Lillian Beckwith is ill and, at the direction of her doctor, she heads into the country for a respite. But quite unexpectedly she opts for the Hebrides rather than Kent as she'd planned. And off she goes, to a land that feels almost as alien as another planet. And it's a delicious and silly romp.
November 5, 2025
Thankful to dear Anne for the chats about her home and lending me this lovely book.
So many chuckle-out-loud moments, loveable characters, and generally a much-needed wholesome read. Reminded me a little of My Family and Other Animals, with the era, the quirkiness of the locals, and the lovely simplicity of the lifestyle. Even more keen to travel to Scotland one day!!
So many chuckle-out-loud moments, loveable characters, and generally a much-needed wholesome read. Reminded me a little of My Family and Other Animals, with the era, the quirkiness of the locals, and the lovely simplicity of the lifestyle. Even more keen to travel to Scotland one day!!
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April 8, 2023This a memoir and travel narrative from the mid-20th century. Lillian Beckwith puts an ad in the papers looking for a place to live for some amount of time for a "rest cure". She receives many different responses, but the earnestness and the laughs and charm exuding from one particular response causes her to choose to move to one of the Hebridean islands on the west coast of Scotland. This is the 1950s and so this kind of life is at the very least more isolated than she was previously used to. We meet her as she's arriving first to the coast in the dark, the cold, and the rain, and while she initially avers about getting on the ferry (small, small) she eventually does and makes it to her new place of living. Over the course of the next weeks and months, she falls in love with the island, its people, and the life they live there, and she settles in for a much longer time.
Some of this book is hilarious, and some of it is a little forced. Because of the artificiality of the set up it means that the story doesn't feel as natural and good as it could, and it's limited too because Beckwith is not quite as funny as she thinks she is. It's still a funny book, but I found myself wearing thin on it after about 100 pages or so.
Some of this book is hilarious, and some of it is a little forced. Because of the artificiality of the set up it means that the story doesn't feel as natural and good as it could, and it's limited too because Beckwith is not quite as funny as she thinks she is. It's still a funny book, but I found myself wearing thin on it after about 100 pages or so.
October 25, 2021
I loved this humorous 1950s memoir by a single woman from Northern England who moved temporarily to lodge with a Scottish islander. She does make fun of the crofters and their way of life, and I can see why they objected to the book when it came out, but she reveals perhaps more than she means to about herself at the same time, and it's possible to see when they were probably teasing her into believing all sorts of nonsense.
January 11, 2016
I found a book in an opshop one day. That's not unusual, of course. I've found many books in many opshops around Australia (and a few in America). It was in one of my book-binge shops, where I ended up with a whole plastic bag full of books at 10c each, paperback and hardback alike.
That book was THE HILLS IS LONELY by Lillian Beckwith. I picked it up sheerly because I liked the title, but the blurb on the back really sold it. The blurb read:
When Lillian Beckwith advertised for a secluded place in the country, she received a letter with the following unusual description of an isolated Hebridean croft: 'Surely it's that quiet even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea it's that near as I use it myself everyday for the refusals...'
Her curiosity aroused, Beckwith took up the invitation. This is the comic and enchanting story of the strange rest-cure that followed and her efforts to adapt to a completely different way of life.
It sounded wonderful, and I'd been meaning to read more non-fiction anyway. THE HILLS IS LONELY seemed like a good place to start.
It was. I'm not sure exactly how much of it is from Lillian Beckwith's actual experiences and how much of it is made up (she writes fiction also), but whatever the breakdown is, the whole of it is enchanting. She has such a way with words, and such a fine hand for characters that you can't help feeling that you're there, and that you never want to leave.
"I like the way you townfolk seem to be able to dance on your toes," panted my partner admiringly.
"You're dancing on them too," I replied with a ghostly chuckle that was half irony and half agony.
"Me? Dancin' on me toes?"
"No," I retorted brutally, "on mine."
"I thought I must be," said Lachy simply, and with no trace of remorse; "I could tell by the way your face keeps changin'."
You can get this one on Kindle, though I really recommend getting the paperback. This is one of those books that you'll want to feel in your hands and smell the scent of as you read it.
But whichever format you prefer to read, just read this one. I promise you, you'll want to go on to the next, and then the next...
That book was THE HILLS IS LONELY by Lillian Beckwith. I picked it up sheerly because I liked the title, but the blurb on the back really sold it. The blurb read:
When Lillian Beckwith advertised for a secluded place in the country, she received a letter with the following unusual description of an isolated Hebridean croft: 'Surely it's that quiet even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea it's that near as I use it myself everyday for the refusals...'
Her curiosity aroused, Beckwith took up the invitation. This is the comic and enchanting story of the strange rest-cure that followed and her efforts to adapt to a completely different way of life.
It sounded wonderful, and I'd been meaning to read more non-fiction anyway. THE HILLS IS LONELY seemed like a good place to start.
It was. I'm not sure exactly how much of it is from Lillian Beckwith's actual experiences and how much of it is made up (she writes fiction also), but whatever the breakdown is, the whole of it is enchanting. She has such a way with words, and such a fine hand for characters that you can't help feeling that you're there, and that you never want to leave.
"I like the way you townfolk seem to be able to dance on your toes," panted my partner admiringly.
"You're dancing on them too," I replied with a ghostly chuckle that was half irony and half agony.
"Me? Dancin' on me toes?"
"No," I retorted brutally, "on mine."
"I thought I must be," said Lachy simply, and with no trace of remorse; "I could tell by the way your face keeps changin'."
You can get this one on Kindle, though I really recommend getting the paperback. This is one of those books that you'll want to feel in your hands and smell the scent of as you read it.
But whichever format you prefer to read, just read this one. I promise you, you'll want to go on to the next, and then the next...
December 25, 2016
Written in the 50's, parts of it were a bit dated; but I enjoyed it immensely. Lillian Beckwith, a middle-aged teacher from England is ordered by her doctor to take a complete rest in the country. She find a lovely spot in the wilds of the Hebrides with Morag who lives in a primitive croft.
The incidents of country life are often hilariously funny as she learns to live with little comforts of life.
Found the used book online and surprisingly it was a discard from the Hertfordshire County Library, North Watford, England.
The incidents of country life are often hilariously funny as she learns to live with little comforts of life.
Found the used book online and surprisingly it was a discard from the Hertfordshire County Library, North Watford, England.
October 25, 2023
I loved this one so much! Lillian Beckwith has a great sense of humor and a wonderful "way with words." And it is amazing to me that this book is nonfiction! That makes me like it even better :)
The story is set in the '40's or '50's. Lillian is needing some time off from her teaching job because of health issues. Her doctor recommends a trip away to relax, and she goes to the Hebrides in Scotland, and it is hilarious, though not very relaxing! The people there have such different ways of living than her English expectations, and Beckwith's every description is extremely amusing. The book is interesting and humorous the whole way through, from a fire that is put out by a barrel of salted herring to a bridegroom who forgets his wedding day (and his teeth!). I will definitely be looking for more books by this author!!
Warning: expect to laugh out loud -- so be careful where you read it ;)
The story is set in the '40's or '50's. Lillian is needing some time off from her teaching job because of health issues. Her doctor recommends a trip away to relax, and she goes to the Hebrides in Scotland, and it is hilarious, though not very relaxing! The people there have such different ways of living than her English expectations, and Beckwith's every description is extremely amusing. The book is interesting and humorous the whole way through, from a fire that is put out by a barrel of salted herring to a bridegroom who forgets his wedding day (and his teeth!). I will definitely be looking for more books by this author!!
Warning: expect to laugh out loud -- so be careful where you read it ;)
July 2, 2025
Been anticipating getting into this after randomly
finding The Loud Halo at a secondhand bookstore and tearing through it. This series has proved to be hard to find copies of, but after searching through op shops all over the country, I finally got my hands on the books I was missing when Kris got me my missing books from England. 🥺
This series is a little slice of life of her time on these Scottish islands (though the slice is more like a slap to the face). The books are full of humour, even if they are probably more than a little disparaging about the Hebrides and its inhabitants.
finding The Loud Halo at a secondhand bookstore and tearing through it. This series has proved to be hard to find copies of, but after searching through op shops all over the country, I finally got my hands on the books I was missing when Kris got me my missing books from England. 🥺
This series is a little slice of life of her time on these Scottish islands (though the slice is more like a slap to the face). The books are full of humour, even if they are probably more than a little disparaging about the Hebrides and its inhabitants.
October 19, 2018
A hoot! I'm so glad my library has the whole series. Onto the next Hebrides misadventure!
March 29, 2018
Not exactly a memoir, the author used her own experiences to build this novel that reads like an autobiographical account of a young English woman's stay on the fictional town of Bruach, part of the Hebrides. The chapters each hold a story of the characters who inhabit this charming town, from Morag McDugan, the landlord with whom Becky Peckwitt stays, her brother Ruari, fisherman and jack-of-many-trades Lachy, and several other characters with quirks and habits that bring enjoyment to the reader. Many times I just wanted to cozy up to the fire, huddle under a blanket, sip tea and enjoy a strupach (a light snack often enjoyed with tea, and conversation with your companions at the table) while watching the mist and fog. Becky has an adventurous spirit, which makes for much fun as she treks across the crofts and fields, tries her hand at fishing, an experience at the village cattle sale, even attending a funeral. But the best is saved for last, and the wedding celebration she attends replete with much dancing, the ever-present whiskey (it seems the guests don't trust each other to leave their personal supplies alone, and so bottles are buried all over the yard, to be dug up when the guests get thirsty. Which is often), and the rush to get the groom's dentures to him on time, as he had to rush to get ready since he'd forgotten what day it was. All in all, an entertaining (if a bit dated), that reminded me of James Herriott's storytelling. 3.5*
November 2, 2022
I was introduced to Lillian Beckwith’s writing when I watched the film A Shine of Rainbows, which is based on one of her books. I gave that book 5 stars, having thoroughly enjoyed the setting of rural, dreary Scotland of some 50 years past, and the themes of the father-son dynamic and underdog vindication. Though that book was substantially shorter than The Hills Is Lonely, it contained a lot more of the subject matter that interests me when I read.
The Hills Is Lonely follows an Englishwoman who visits rural Scotland to recuperate from an illness. The setting is the same, but the other themes I enjoyed aren’t present. Instead, the main character—a self-insert of the author—tells of her encounters and numerous mishaps with the villagers. Somewhat cheesy due to the self-insert of the author and the caricatured characters, the book is still quite funny. I was surprised to find it so, given the drab cover and title, which do not suit the subject well.
Some of the humour is slow-moving, requiring patience to reach the climax and eliciting at times merely a chuckle, so I wouldn’t go into this expecting to laugh raucously. Still, I appreciated it for the cozy, silly and entertaining book it was, and will continue to read from the author.
The Hills Is Lonely follows an Englishwoman who visits rural Scotland to recuperate from an illness. The setting is the same, but the other themes I enjoyed aren’t present. Instead, the main character—a self-insert of the author—tells of her encounters and numerous mishaps with the villagers. Somewhat cheesy due to the self-insert of the author and the caricatured characters, the book is still quite funny. I was surprised to find it so, given the drab cover and title, which do not suit the subject well.
Some of the humour is slow-moving, requiring patience to reach the climax and eliciting at times merely a chuckle, so I wouldn’t go into this expecting to laugh raucously. Still, I appreciated it for the cozy, silly and entertaining book it was, and will continue to read from the author.
September 23, 2015
This book was a pleasure to read. The English narrator moves to a tiny town in the Hebrides islands of Scotland - for vague health reasons. She there experiences the culture shock of what is, in essence, an entirely new world. The stories of her adventures in her first two years there are wickedly funny, but also show genuine affection for these wacky people. The language was the root of many of the funniest passages. The title comes from the description of the charms of the place from Beckwith's landlady-to-be: "Surely its that quiet here even the sheeps themselves on the hills is lonely and as to the sea its that near I use it myself every day for the refusals."
The book is written like fiction, with the narrator being Miss Peckwitt, but on a couple of occasion's she's called "Miss Beckwith". Not sure if that was a typo or a not-so-subtle hint that this is, indeed, a true account.
This book was written in mid-20th century, and I'm a big of fan of most earlier 20th century British writing. I'll be reading the next book in the series soon.
The book is written like fiction, with the narrator being Miss Peckwitt, but on a couple of occasion's she's called "Miss Beckwith". Not sure if that was a typo or a not-so-subtle hint that this is, indeed, a true account.
This book was written in mid-20th century, and I'm a big of fan of most earlier 20th century British writing. I'll be reading the next book in the series soon.
September 16, 2018
Thanks to chemotherapy, my reviews have become shorter and somewhat haphazard. So, I finished this some weeks ago and there have been many more books in between. I had never heard of the writer and picked up her book for one euro in a second-hand bookshop in Killarney. As a James Herriot devotee I expected to love it but I did not. Beckwith can certainly write very well but, I don't know, she just lacked something for me. At a guess, I didn't find her material that interesting and I do remember finding her tone a little pompous, she always had to be the most intelligent character in the room, on the street, in the field.
November 5, 2020
I have a fascination with the Scottish isles so this first of a six-series set seemed to be just the thing for a long pleasurable read. And it was....mostly.
What bothered me at times was the author’s somewhat condescending attitude towards the islanders. It took away from the overall enjoyment of the book.
As I have already obtained the second and third books of the series I will plunge into them unless her attitude continues.
What bothered me at times was the author’s somewhat condescending attitude towards the islanders. It took away from the overall enjoyment of the book.
As I have already obtained the second and third books of the series I will plunge into them unless her attitude continues.
March 21, 2023
I come from Scots ancestry( first generation Canadian )My great great grandparents( dad's side ) were both from the Hebrides so it's fascinating to read what is probably the most honest depiction of life in those very isolated and tough little islands ( at that time ; the 1950's) ,
Not rip- roaringly funny , and not really fiction as Lillian Comber( her real name ) based all the series on her own experiences in the isle of Skye with her husband.
Very engrossing and a fast read...
Not rip- roaringly funny , and not really fiction as Lillian Comber( her real name ) based all the series on her own experiences in the isle of Skye with her husband.
Very engrossing and a fast read...
September 24, 2021
A middle-class Sassenach offers a prejudiced account of her time with Hebridean crofters. It seems that it is okay to laugh at them, though, because she is fond of them in a condescending sort of way (and because they'll likely never read the book).
February 20, 2012
Amusing story of living in the Hebrides but a little on the dry side.
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