In the art of the short story, Scotland's writers have led the way. The earliest in this anthology, those of Sir Walter Scott and James Hogg, are rich in folklore, proverb, superstition, and sinister humor. Throughout this collection, a preoccupation with the supernatural emerges, from the spiritual torment of John Buchan's "The Outgoing of the Tide" to the chilling premonition of Muriel Spark's "The House of the Famous Poet". While stories such as "Alicky's Watch" depict the influence of the Calvinist religion, darker subjects are frequently offset by the comedy found in tales like "A Wee Nip". Among the other contributors to this spirited collection are Robert Louis Stevenson, Naomi Mitchison, and George Mackay Brown.
I first read this collection almost 40 years ago when it was first published. I hadn’t realised I still had it until I stumbled across it in my overstuffed bookshelves, and decided a re-read was in order. I’ve recently posted separate reviews for 3 of the individual stories. The longest story in the collection, more of a novella really, is Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Beach of Falesa, which I have reviewed elsewhere on here.
For me there are two standout stories in this collection and I’ll return to them later. The best of the rest was The Tax Gatherer, by the Caithness writer Neil M. Gunn. I’ve read a few of Neil Gunn’s novels and they haven’t always resonated with me, but I liked this story, which featured a dispute between the titular taxman and a woman from a travelling family over the payment of a dog licence (something that used to be required in the UK). It’s in effect a meeting between people from two different tribes, albeit they live in the same country. It’s a theme that often appeals to me. A rather sombre tale.
Muriel Spark’s The House of the Famous Poet, set in wartime London, is a puzzling story that takes an unexpected turn. It does leave the reader thinking, and I don’t mind stories like that. Elspeth Davie’s story Pedestrian is an amusing tale that looks at the modern world and the situation of the outsider.
One feature of this collection is that there’s a disproportionate number of stories with a supernatural theme, maybe reflecting a preference by the editor? There are around twenty stories in total and I’m not going to go through them all, as I found most of them to be average. An exception is the last story in the book, Iain Crichton-Smith’s Survival Without Error, from 1970. A lawyer defends two thugs who have beaten up a homeless man, and whilst in court he is distracted by the memory of an incident that occurred during his period of National Service 15 years before. This story has a powerful impact, but it’s delivered in an understated way that, in my opinion, makes it all the more effective. It’s worth a read if you ever come across a copy.
My other favourite is Lewis Grassic Gibbon’s comic story Smeddum. The title is a dialect word from Scotland’s north-east, that equates to “spirit”, “grit” or, as the author puts it “guts”. Smeddum introduces us to the character of Meg Menzies, the formidable matriarch of 9 children raised on a farm. (In Scotland the name Menzies is traditionally pronounced “mingis”). It’s a great story. There’s a reading on YouTube by the Scottish actor/theatre director Matthew Zajac, which is about half an hour long. I would recommend it, although I should say that much of the story is in local dialect, so it might not be easy for someone who has English as a second language.
Supongo que esto pasará con muchas recopilaciones de relatos cortos de diversos autores. Hay en este libro algunos relatos que son magníficos y que merecen las cinco estrellas (The Open Door de Margaret Oliphant; The Beach of Falesá, R.L. Stevenson; Sealskin trousers, Eric Linklater); hay otros que son relatos que están bien (The two drovers, Walter Scott, The tax- Gatherer, Neil M. Gunn) y otros que me han dejado totalmente indiferente. Sin embargo, el libro merece la pena, sólo por leer a Stevenson y a Oliphant (esta última un descubrimiento para mí).
This anthology is a landscape—wild, mist-ridden, muscular, and startlingly diverse. Ian Murray’s The New Penguin Book of Scottish Short Stories is not merely a regional collection but a cartography of the Scottish imagination across decades.
For a reader who loves the intersection of cultural history and narrative craft, this book is a feast.
What makes the anthology remarkable is how it refuses to flatten “Scottishness” into clichés. Instead, it reveals Scotland as a country of contradictions: lyrical yet bleak, humorous yet tragic, steeped in folklore yet fiercely modern. Murray curates voices ranging from canonical giants like George Mackay Brown and Alasdair Gray to contemporary experimenters whose stories hum with urban grit.
One of the collection’s strengths is its tonal range. You move from the mythic quietude of island landscapes to the anarchic wit of Glasgow streets, from eerie supernatural tales to razor-sharp social realism. This variety offers a panoramic sense of a nation whose literature is shaped by centuries of struggle—against poverty, against empire, against internal fragmentation.
Scottish storytelling’s oldest thread—oral tradition—runs beneath even the most modern pieces. The rhythms of speech, the cadence of humour, and the twists of dark irony all echo the ancient fireside tales. Yet the anthology is not nostalgic.
Many stories confront contemporary questions: identity in a post-industrial economy, the loneliness of urban living, generational trauma, political anger after Thatcherism, and the fragile dignity of working-class life.
What you’ll find especially compelling is how many of these writers use small narratives to hint at vast emotional or historical undercurrents. A boy walking home across a field carries centuries of class tension in his steps. A young woman leaving her island for the city bears the inherited melancholy of outmigration. Even the supernatural tales feel grounded: ghosts here are not aesthetic decorations but extensions of memory, guilt, and landscape.
The anthology also highlights Scotland’s stylistic boldness. Writers like Gray and Kelman revel in linguistic experimentation—dialect, fractured grammar, rhythmic speech—while others embrace minimalist clarity. This linguistic variety gives the book an almost musical quality, as if each story were a different instrument in the national orchestra.
Beyond its literary richness, the anthology feels emotionally honest. Scotland emerges as a place where humour and sorrow coexist inseparably, where characters cope with hardship through stubborn resilience, and where tenderness is often disguised as gruffness. There is a strange, addictive beauty in this emotional duality.
By the time you finish the anthology, you feel you’ve walked through rain-slick alleys, across windswept moors, and through kitchens filled with the smell of tea and quiet desperation.
The book lingers—not as a collection of stories, but as a lived experience.
Great collection of short stories ranging in length and complexity. Book was somewhat front-loaded with a few very good but longer stories, which made the middle feel less impactful. Ended on some strong ones though, in particular the one about the man and his military service. Felt some personal connection there.
Note that the Scottish accent (in writing) took some time to get used to. Stories used it to varying degrees, and some speech was quite difficult to understand.
The brownie of Black Haggs / James Hogg--3 The two drovers / Walter Scott--3 The gudewife / John Galt-- The open door / Margaret Oliphant--3 *The beach of Falesá / R. L. Stevenson-- Beattock for Moffat / R. B. Cunninghame-Graham--1 The outgoing of the tide / John Buchan--2 The tax-gatherer / Neil M. Gunn-- A wee nip / E. Gaitens-- In the family / Naomi Mitchison-- *Sealskin trousers / Eric Linklater-- Smeddum / Lewis Grassic Gibbon--2 The mennans / Robert MacLellan-- The disinherited / J. F. Hendry-- *Alicky's watch / Fred Urquhart-- The house of the famous poet / Muriel Spark--2 Pedestrian / Elspeth Davie--2 *The wireless set / George Mackay Brown-- The money / Ian Hamilton Finlay-- Survival without error / Iain Crichton Smith--