After being shelved for about 10 years, I loved “The Hills Is Lonely” in 2016. I hope Lillian Beckwith’s autobiography explains why a young woman needed recuperating in the 1930s. These anecdotes were written with intelligence, admiration, well-balanced observation, and humour but Lillian censored them. I eagerly read “The Sea For Breakfast” a year after, giving four stars to both. Two years later, always in the spring for some reason, I continued with “The Loud Halo”, 1964. My enthusiasm for it dipped to three stars but I appreciate all these snapshots. They are like nothing I have read.
They describe the astonishment of this Englishwoman, at the illogic of a surreal community. It shifted to amusement. No one would respect and fit into new worlds better. Islanders counted on one other. Plumbing and tourism arrived and isolation dropped but the terrain wouldn’t change. Lillian bought a croft and car in a year and enjoyed the housekeeping chores of all seasons. She must have developed prime healthfulness. However, another unnamed illness closed this book in a hospital. An unnamed gentleman took her back to England. Nonetheless, more books about Brach were published.
Something I would tolerate less than Lillian was interruption. She explained to Morag candidly, her best Bruach friend, that she couldn’t stand drunkenness and wanted to spend New Year’s eve reading. The townsfolk thought they must visit every friend. She went with the flow anytime anyone dropped in and catered to any eccentricities. Deaths of villagers were moving. However, references to animal killing were too numerous. People never want to hear about that. My overall reaction is that what Lillian ought to have elaborated upon, is complete stories instead of allusions. Why was she sick, who was the gentleman, and what precipitated leaving Bruach.... besides the seasons of precipitation!