The final book in the Scots Quair trilogy, Grey Granite, sees the Great Depression continue and Chris has moved to the city, helping run a boarding house.
With Ewan now a young man and serving an apprenticeship in the steel works, he assumes centre stage. A strange strong distant lad, perhaps today we’d call him a high functioning sociopath. When Ewan becomes embroiled in the class struggle, the cool detached boy changes:
“it seemed to Ewan in a sudden minute that he would never be himself again, he'd never be ought but a bit of them, the flush on a thin white mill-girl's face, the arm and hand and the downbent face of a keelie from the reek of the Gallowgate, the blood and bones and flesh of them all, their thoughts and their doubts and their loves were his, all that they thought and lived in were his. And that Ewan Tavendale that once had been, the cool boy with the haughty soul and cool hands, apart and alone, self reliant, self-centred, slipped away out of the room as he stared, slipped away and was lost from his life forever.”
He also falls in love with Ellen, a socialist teacher, but there is no doubt as to which of his passions is the more important.
Though Grey Granite, set in an industrial city, lacks the pastoral lyricism of Sunset Song, or even Cloud Howe, still it is the people, ranked in their classes, who make the tale. And Grassic Gibbon has done a good job of rendering the difference between the new proletariat and the old peasantry. Even the idiom is different—Bulgary, for example (“it’s snowing like Bulgary”).
But the main theme of the book Is the strike at the works and Ewan arrested and shamed by his torture at the hands of the police. “A hell of a thing to be history,” the Communist, Trease, tells him.
Yet, this final book of the trilogy is not about beliefs. That was the theme of the second book. Cloud Howe, where Chris sees all the beliefs of people as so many clouds. Here she sees the stone of Grey Granite and the semi-precious stones that form the chapter titles. Chris warns Ellen that Ewan, when he’s recovered, will “never be any lass’s lad”. And so it is. Ellen’s faith in Communism fades, replaced by a wanting of a little place of her own and maybe a car. Ewan remains obdurate, hard as stone, though now with what Chris perceives as a new coarseness. He, in turn, tells her she’s real. But when Ellen tells him she’s left the Party and you couldn’t have fun without money, he rejects her.
And the stone it is, of all things, that endures, the hard stone and the soil of the hills of her birth to which Chris retreats alone at the end. And there she senses the timelessness that has always been hers:
“Chris moved and sat with her knees handclasped, looking far on that world across the plain and the day that did not die there but went east, on and on, over all the world till the morning came, the unending morning somewhere on the world.”