‘Half Scotland sniggered and the other half scowled, when in letters to the Scotsman and the Glasgow Herald, I put forward my suggestion that prisoners in Scottish jails be allowed to wear their kilts as their national birthright if such be their wish.’
From his origins as an illegitimate child in the slums of Glasgow, Fergus Lamont sets out to reclaim his inheritance and to remake his identity as soldier, poet and would-be aristocrat.
Covering the years from the turn of the century to the Second World War, Fergus’s unforgettable voice recounts a tale of vanity, success and betrayal which shines its own sardonic light on Scotland and the cultural and political issues of the day.
At odds with his origins and unsettled in his aristocratic pretensions, Fergus Lamont reaches middle age before he is offered at least the hope of redemption in a love affair with an island woman. How it turns out and what he learns too late, adds a tragic dimension to the scathing humour of this, Robin Jenkins’s most searching exploration of the modern Scottish psyche.
Author of a number of landmark novels including The Cone Gatherers, The Changeling, Happy for the Child, The Thistle and the Grail and Guests of War, Jenkins is recognised as one of Scotland's greatest writers. The themes of good and evil, of innocence lost, of fraudulence, cruelty and redemption shine through his work. His novels, shot through with ambiguity, are rarely about what they seem. He published his first book, So Gaily Sings the Lark, at the age of thirty-eight, and by the time of his death in 2005, over thirty of his novels were in print.
I really enjoyed this book, except for the clumsy job Jenkins made of handling the two sides of Fergus' character - the first sociable and caring, the second snobbish and conceited. It's clear that he wanted to show Fergus as being forever torn between kindness and vanity, but the sides were so separate and so exaggerated that he frequently appeared more schizophrenic than conflicted. It loses a star for that.
Another bugbear - Fergus' year of birth was never made explicitly clear, which made it difficult to get a grip of the book's timeline. In the end, we learn that Fergus was aged 71 in 1963, so he was born sometime in 1891 or 1892. Believe me, you'll thank me for that if you ever read the book :D
Absolutely loved this book and couldn’t put it down. Great characters and plot, loved that although Fergus’s life moved on the reader keeps getting snapshots of the lives of those from his childhood right to the very end.
This is such a brilliant, well told, well written story of Fergus Corse-Lamont, a boy from the slums of Gantock (Glasgow) and his passage through life. He narrates his story with a pinch of humour, even while dealing with the darker parts. It tells you about struggling childhoods, missing parents, suicide, city life, war, armies, Highlands, Lowlands, aristocracy and poets. Anybody with even a remote interest in knowing and reading about ancient Scottish society, culture, language, food, dwellings, the beauty of Highlands and the harshness of the Scottish weather should pick this up. The beauty of using simple language with excellent vocabulary, not using overly decorative language and jargons, absolutely makes this book such a good read!
This book has been in my pile for a while, I was put off reading it partially by the remarkably dull cover (why do all Canongate Classics have covers that really discourage picking the book up?) and by the fact that I did not like the Cone-Gatherers. However a friend has it as one of her favourite books so I decided to give it a go. Fergus Lamont is a very interesting character, I went between loving and loathing him. Each period of his life is so well described, but the parts with the best sense of place have to be those set in his home town. His is ultimately a sad story but told with great humour.
This is surely one of the best Scottish novels of the 20th century. Hillarious but at the same time a serious and poetic take on this particularly weird social class hierarchy. The writing is incredibly crafted - the dialogue captures the reality perfectly. A great re-read after 30 years or so.
In Murray Pittock's words, modern Scottish fiction is characterised by "gruesome pessimism". It may be that tales of Glasgow slums simply do not sell well, which was true at least until the unexpected success of Shuggie Bain. Jenkins, though, can tell a tragic story with a tenderness that lifts it out of its immediate setting and gives it a universal feel. I'm not sure that I agree with the introduction that there is a Dickensian quality in Fergus Lamont, but what Dickens does for London, Jenkins does for Glasgow.
Unlike most modern Scottish novels that I have read, which end with a suicide, Fergus Lamont begins with one. the drowning of his beautiful, Madonna like, mother, who - in the parlance of his neighbours - is a whore marks his life and his understanding (and fear) of women. The day before she dies she buys him a kilt in order to make him into the gentleman that he (through illegitimate birth) is. He wears this, and presumably other, kilts, for the rest of his life and they mark him out as an eccentric, an oddball, and someone fundamentally out of place in his world.
The novel takes us through the three classic environments of Scotland: the modern city slum, the Anglophone aristocracy and the Highland Gael. Through false snobbery he snubs the first whilst never truly belonging in the second. It is in the third, where he has no claim to belong (except through his great-uncle's inheritance) that he achieves some kind of integration and reconciliation through the love of a woman who neither cares nor knows of his background or pretensions. The introduction does not seem to allow Fergus Lamont this moment of integration, and it is true that his final return to Gantock does not bring the peace that he might have, but nonetheless I think that Robin Jenkins does intend us to see it this way.
Whether this is supposed to tell us something about Scotland's identity and future I cannot tell. The Gael is the older and more authentic of the three environments but it is also precarious. There is no guarantee that salvation lies here any more than elsewhere. Perhaps the message, that Fergus half-realises towards the end, is that there is no pilgrim's progress or David Copperfield-style adventure to life. We return to where we started and know the place for the first time.
As social commentary of a period of Scotland's history, this book is of considerable value. The writing flows well too. The weakness is in the realisation of many of the characters, including Fergus himself. Sadly, the characters often felt like stock figures or archetypes, rather than fully realised personalities. For all that, though, if the book did not quite scale the heights of literary achievement, it is nonetheless an enjoyable read.
Nice book, not only about Scottishness and social identity but also about war, family, love, and a sense of home. Hard to read though since there's a lot of scots dialect and also quite a few words I did not understand. Not an easy read, but when brought to completion, definitely worth your time.
I liked the plot and many of the characters were interesting but it was also very wordy. If this story had been told in a different way I might've been more keen on finishing it. Nevertheless, three stars because I liked the story.
Edit 16.07.17 to say that I reread this and oh my, Fergus is such a conceited dick. For some reason this was a LOT more noticeable the second time around.