[7/10]
It was a homecoming neither of them could have imagined in their worst nightmares.
Fin Macleod and his wife Marsaili return to the island of their birth and childhood, Grand Bernera in the Outer Hebrides. With them, I return myself to the Lewis trilogy by Peter May, although I guess we can no longer call it a trilogy. Was there indeed a need for a fourth book in the same setting? Apparently, yes! Because the secrets believed to be long buried in the peat and the ‘machair’ of the wind swept isles have a nasty habit of coming up to ravage the lives of the survivors once more.
‘There’s not a lot of us left here on Great Bernera, Sergeant. Everyone knows everyone.’
... and everyone is related to everyone else, either by blood or by a shared past.
Fin is no longer a member of the police forces, but it is a murder that brings him and Marsaili back to the island: his son Fionnlagh, a teacher in the local school, is accused of murdering one of his students, Caitlin Black, with whom he was having a secret affair. More disturbingly, Fionnlagh refuses to defend himself and Fin is hard pressed to untangle the threads of this case that lead all the way back to the last summer he and his friends spent on Grand Bernera before leaving for college and/or career.
Because the victim is the daughter of Niall Dubh, with whom teenage Fin and others from his class was involved in a dangerous scheme to steal salmon from one of the local fish farms, a childish caper that ended in two tragic deaths. Now, Niall is a multi-million corporate tycoon operating numerous salmon farms off the coast of Hebrides, divorced from his wife, who is another member of the teenage gang of Fin and Marsaili.
The novel is in general following the usual police procedural steps of interviewing witnesses, building a psychological profile of Caitlin and her friends and combing the actual clues with a fine comb. But in truth, everything revolves around the events from decades ago, from that long ago summer of betrayals and lies and crushed dreams.
It was as if the whole history of his life here on the island, and all the years he had spent away from it since offered only phantom memories, wraithlike and insubstantial. The only one of those that stayed with him, and real, was the most painful and the one he least wished to dwell on.
The sins of the fathers seem destined to be visited upon their offspring, with Fionnlagh’s daughter Eilidh being bullied in school the same way Fin was in his early years. I could recap here the whole complex web of relationships that ties these island people together, but that would I think reveal too many of the festering secrets that have led to the present crime. Peter May, considering the more than ten years since the previous episode was published, is also revisiting events from the past in order to refresh the reader’s memory. I guess he wanted to make this fourth book a sort of stand-alone thriller, separate from the original trilogy, but I think reading The Blackhouse first will make the lead characters more believable.
The other relevant aspect of this fourth book is the sensation that the whole plot is just an excuse for May to go on a virulent and quite partisan rant against the modern practice of salmon farming. To say that the author is against it doesn't even begin to describe the lengths he goes to in order to fit the whole story around the criminal activities of the business owners.
‘Mr Macleod, would you want to eat salmon that have been pumped full of vaccines, half eaten by sea lice and drowned in toxic chemicals?’
Peter May is a great writer. Even as I register my complaints about the lack of subtlety in his campaign to ban industrial fish farming, I feel compelled to also observe that his sense of space, his timing and his nuanced characterization are as good here as in the original trilogy. His subject matter and his treatment with the focus on family ties and on secrets buried in the past bring him very close to the kind of novels I usually expect from Tana French. His love for the rough beauty of the Hebrides and his admiration for the local traditions is what raises his books above the average thriller rating for me.
Each episode has some sort of reflection on the harshness of nature and the corresponding hardness necessary for survival on these inhospitable shores. In this book, outside of the horrors of the salmon farms, the message is driven home when a school of whales is beached on the shore of the island, victims of either nature or man, or both.
Life in the raw. If nothing else, she would learn just how tenuous a hold any of them had on it, and how easily it could be lost or squandered.
These people are fighters, survivors, driven closer in adversity.
I hope there might be more stories to tell about Great Bernera, Fin, Marsaili and the rest of the islanders.
The corncrake's song rings in my ears,
above the rye a full moon sails
Eino Leino – “Nocturne”