People living on the edge or in the midst of moorland have interacted with their environment for centuries, utilizing its resources and drawing upon its unique features to provide shape and meaning for their lives.
Donald S. Murray's new book is an examination of the moorland, ranging from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland to the Netherlands, Germany, Ireland and even Australia. Murray explores moorland in all its different guises and roles, considering its scientific, aesthetic and preservative qualities, reflecting on how for centuries humans have represented it in literature, art and folk tales. He reveals both its industrial heritage and how we still use and abuse it today. In particular, Murray examines the politics of ownership and the way Europe's moorlands have been employed for punitive purposes and in rebellions against the authority of the state.
The Dark Stuff weaves in Murray's childhood memories and his experiences from the Isle of Lewis as he investigates oral histories, poetry, songs, and historical records about these locations. He also confronts some of the darker realities of how European moorland has been employed in the recent and historical past, examining current political debate and scientific knowledge, and delving into social, economic, and religious histories to provide broader context.
Donald S. Murray was born in Ness in the Isle of Lewis and taught on Benbecula. An author and journalist, his poetry, prose and verse has been shortlisted for both the Saltire Award and Callum Macdonald Memorial Award. Published widely, his work has also appeared in a number of national anthologies and on BBC Radio 4 and Radio Scotland. He lives and works in Shetland.
Normally the first thing that comes to mind when I think of the Dark Stuff is Guinness. What Murray thinks of though, is peat. This decomposed vegetable matter is formed on acidic and very wet ground, but when dried can then become fuel and is the strong scent in the delightful Islay whiskies. He had grown up with them in Scotland all around him and even fell in a few. But these moorlands that make up swathes of our uplands in our country and Ireland also exist in Europe and all around the world.
These moorlands have affected and influenced people for hundreds of years. Not only have they provided the fuel to heat and cook with, but they have been a focal point for ritual and darker matters in the past as well as inspiration for stories, art, poetry and folk tales. Murray takes us on a path through his own personal history of moors when growing up on the Isle of Lewis as well as peering into the murk to discover the cultural history and investigates the science and the crucial role they play in our climate. The challenge of keeping these fragile environments going and meeting the balance of economic needs of the local populations is a difficult one given just how much carbon they are capable of storing
The book does weave around, just like the path that you would take through a bog, but it doesn't lessen the impact of what Murray does here in telling us of his love for these places. There are fine illustrations from Douglas Robertson and a smattering of his own poems throughout the book which nicely adjusts the pace. Overall a fascinating book of a part of the landscape that is often overlooked.
Something betwixt a cultural history of moorlands in Northern Europe, a paean to peat, and a clarion call for the preservation of boglands. The writing is lovely. The organization is meandering, like a walk through a bog in the fog. I’ll read anything on moorland. It is my native terrain; but I wish this had had more meat on its bones. Murray shows himself an able historian and travel writer. I think a more thorough and global cultural history of moorlands was possible here.
This was a surprisingly satisfying read, a beautifully paced and considered meditation as it takes you around the world, even to Australia, to consider peat and moorland. How that sustains a whole book without getting boring might seem something of a miracle but good writing will do that. Maybe it helped that I have only recently been to the Outer Hebrides and so I could easily picture the places he referenced, including beautiful Ness. But there is so much more to this than the romance of the landscape, from the horrible suppression by the English of the lives of so many Scots to the ridding of gay men in the squelchiest bogs in the 18th century. I shall never look at peat in the same way again.