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A Modest Harmony: Seven Summers in a Scottish Glen
"It is a story everyone likes to hear: how, without ever having seen it, we bought a small stone cottage beside a loch in Scotland, and spent our summers, year after year, in the fastness of those lonely hills."
From the first call from Scotland, and the impulsive decision to purchase the cottage, this lyrical, flawlessly rendered account of the Gordons' seven summers in Glenauchen is a tale of two cultures.
The Gordons, longtime residents of New York, are enchanted by the serene beauty and rich historical tradition of the remote Perthshire village. Over the course of their summers they learn to cook grouse and fresh herring, to bake scones and drink malt whiskey, and they witness the cycle of dipping, shearing, and the rending of lamb from ewe for the sheep sales.
And they learn that the past is always part of the present--in the old drove roads where they hike, in the ubiquitous rowan trees planted to keep witches away, in the nearby Roma ruins and the standing stones that are a legacy from the original settlers of Scotland in the misty dawn of history.
The Gordons become acquainted, as well, with the inhabitants of the highland village--people as quirky, fey, and irresistible as any one is likely to meet. The "lady of the glen," whose genteel poverty does not prevent her from dining in full evening dress off the family silver, though her meal consists of a kipper and boiled potato; the minister who lurks about the hillside at dusk, trapping rare moths; the two "wild" brothers whose mundane diurnal chores contrast vividly with their drunken nocturnal ramblings--all are a constant source of wonder and delight to the Gordons.
Though they immediately recognize the rightness of their decision to purchase the cottage, they cannot stop the intrusion of the world. As summer follows summer, Glenauchen changes, and when the peaceful glen can no longer keep the disturbances of modern life at bay, the Gordons wisely decide to leave forever.
This beautiful portrait of a Scottish glen is simply told, but its implications are profound. It speaks to the reader of the richness of time and of the wonder of our humanity.
[From the jacket flap.]
From the first call from Scotland, and the impulsive decision to purchase the cottage, this lyrical, flawlessly rendered account of the Gordons' seven summers in Glenauchen is a tale of two cultures.
The Gordons, longtime residents of New York, are enchanted by the serene beauty and rich historical tradition of the remote Perthshire village. Over the course of their summers they learn to cook grouse and fresh herring, to bake scones and drink malt whiskey, and they witness the cycle of dipping, shearing, and the rending of lamb from ewe for the sheep sales.
And they learn that the past is always part of the present--in the old drove roads where they hike, in the ubiquitous rowan trees planted to keep witches away, in the nearby Roma ruins and the standing stones that are a legacy from the original settlers of Scotland in the misty dawn of history.
The Gordons become acquainted, as well, with the inhabitants of the highland village--people as quirky, fey, and irresistible as any one is likely to meet. The "lady of the glen," whose genteel poverty does not prevent her from dining in full evening dress off the family silver, though her meal consists of a kipper and boiled potato; the minister who lurks about the hillside at dusk, trapping rare moths; the two "wild" brothers whose mundane diurnal chores contrast vividly with their drunken nocturnal ramblings--all are a constant source of wonder and delight to the Gordons.
Though they immediately recognize the rightness of their decision to purchase the cottage, they cannot stop the intrusion of the world. As summer follows summer, Glenauchen changes, and when the peaceful glen can no longer keep the disturbances of modern life at bay, the Gordons wisely decide to leave forever.
This beautiful portrait of a Scottish glen is simply told, but its implications are profound. It speaks to the reader of the richness of time and of the wonder of our humanity.
[From the jacket flap.]
- GenresTravel
277 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1982
20 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 2, 2020
This book is a warm-hearted and smart account of a family's seven summers spent in a 100-year-old cottage in isolated eastern Scotland. The memoir tells of their improbable purchase of the home and the way that they explored the area and integrated themselves -- to some degree -- in the lives and rhythms of rural life each summer that they visited from Brooklyn, NY.
Allo of this takes place in the 1970s, so before personal computers but after TV has become universal and started to change even isolated hamlets, and a young generation has found rock-n-roll and wants to move to the big cities (which I guess youth has always wanted to do since cities were created).
It's an elegy to the simple life: the joys of lingering sunsets and a quiet loch; the sounds of birds, bees and sheep; picking berries; home-cooked meals; months without a TV or even a radio. But it's also a reflection on the limits of that life, the way that smallness of environs can create a gossipy, prejudiced and scared population. And the book's author is very well aware of her privilege of being able to jump into the area during its warmest, lushest season each year, and to enjoy those times with ample money for any necessity or comfort she desires --- unlike many of those with whom she interacts.
I bought the book because we will be taking a trip to Scotland. I've been reading about its history and top sites, but I also want to get a feel for the life and the people because it's a place that is considered so special. (I guess every place is special in some sense, but you know what I mean.) This book definitely met that requirement for me. The descriptions of the rambles that Sheila Gordon, her husband Harlan and their three kids took over hills and valleys, across streams and to churchyards, historic sites and picturesque towns all are beautifully rendered. I hope to have one-tenth of her experiences. And if I have one personal exchange of the type she seemed to have weekly, I'd be telling stories about it for a year.
Also, I appreciate her wearing in a bit of the history of the area in which she's living -- from prehistory to the Roman era to fights against the English to the awful clearings of the 19th century to the industrial revolution. She does a short brush on each, always tied to things she's seeing and, when possible, people she's met. She and her husband must have been remarkable listeners and friendly in just the right way to earn the receptions from strangers that she describes.
There's also a lovely chapter near the end in which she describes living in the house by herself for a month, the longest time by far that she's ever been alone. It's not quite Henry David Thoreau's "Walden," but it's highly evocative of an awareness that comes from being along that each of us would benefit from experiencing.
Despite the lovely descriptions in parts, I wouldn't say it's a beautifully written book. It is pedestrian and a bit obvious, even though the descriptions are wonderful. This is hard to explain, except to say that maybe she's trying too hard to describe flowers or a loch set in a valley or a cloudy sky. And she's redundant, such as her multiple use of a phrase to describe sheep seen at a distance being lined up by sheepdogs and herders as if they are white threads on green fabric. Wonderful image, but I didn't need to read it 4 or 5 times.
Also, while Ms. Gordon does acknowledge her privilege as the wife of a US doctor (born in South Africa, trained in Edinburgh), her calculation of her privilege is inadequate. She notes the poverty she sees in some around her and feels badly for them, but only briefly, and instead focuses on what she assumes is the benefit of feeling rooted to the same land for generations. She calls a lot of rural women plump or fat or rosy-cheeked, as if they are characters in a play. She gets a lot of help from her one set of friends in Scotland who live on a farm about an hour away, and she reciprocates, but it seems to me it's still a one-sided exchange. In other words, while I think the Gordon family did about as good of a job as you can do of assimilating while only summer vacationers, it's still not as much as they fantasize that it is.
Allo of this takes place in the 1970s, so before personal computers but after TV has become universal and started to change even isolated hamlets, and a young generation has found rock-n-roll and wants to move to the big cities (which I guess youth has always wanted to do since cities were created).
It's an elegy to the simple life: the joys of lingering sunsets and a quiet loch; the sounds of birds, bees and sheep; picking berries; home-cooked meals; months without a TV or even a radio. But it's also a reflection on the limits of that life, the way that smallness of environs can create a gossipy, prejudiced and scared population. And the book's author is very well aware of her privilege of being able to jump into the area during its warmest, lushest season each year, and to enjoy those times with ample money for any necessity or comfort she desires --- unlike many of those with whom she interacts.
I bought the book because we will be taking a trip to Scotland. I've been reading about its history and top sites, but I also want to get a feel for the life and the people because it's a place that is considered so special. (I guess every place is special in some sense, but you know what I mean.) This book definitely met that requirement for me. The descriptions of the rambles that Sheila Gordon, her husband Harlan and their three kids took over hills and valleys, across streams and to churchyards, historic sites and picturesque towns all are beautifully rendered. I hope to have one-tenth of her experiences. And if I have one personal exchange of the type she seemed to have weekly, I'd be telling stories about it for a year.
Also, I appreciate her wearing in a bit of the history of the area in which she's living -- from prehistory to the Roman era to fights against the English to the awful clearings of the 19th century to the industrial revolution. She does a short brush on each, always tied to things she's seeing and, when possible, people she's met. She and her husband must have been remarkable listeners and friendly in just the right way to earn the receptions from strangers that she describes.
There's also a lovely chapter near the end in which she describes living in the house by herself for a month, the longest time by far that she's ever been alone. It's not quite Henry David Thoreau's "Walden," but it's highly evocative of an awareness that comes from being along that each of us would benefit from experiencing.
Despite the lovely descriptions in parts, I wouldn't say it's a beautifully written book. It is pedestrian and a bit obvious, even though the descriptions are wonderful. This is hard to explain, except to say that maybe she's trying too hard to describe flowers or a loch set in a valley or a cloudy sky. And she's redundant, such as her multiple use of a phrase to describe sheep seen at a distance being lined up by sheepdogs and herders as if they are white threads on green fabric. Wonderful image, but I didn't need to read it 4 or 5 times.
Also, while Ms. Gordon does acknowledge her privilege as the wife of a US doctor (born in South Africa, trained in Edinburgh), her calculation of her privilege is inadequate. She notes the poverty she sees in some around her and feels badly for them, but only briefly, and instead focuses on what she assumes is the benefit of feeling rooted to the same land for generations. She calls a lot of rural women plump or fat or rosy-cheeked, as if they are characters in a play. She gets a lot of help from her one set of friends in Scotland who live on a farm about an hour away, and she reciprocates, but it seems to me it's still a one-sided exchange. In other words, while I think the Gordon family did about as good of a job as you can do of assimilating while only summer vacationers, it's still not as much as they fantasize that it is.
August 26, 2009
A family from NY City finds a little old home in the glen of Perthshire and spends 6 summers there learning about the history, people, customs, culture and lifestyle of their neighbors and those who lived in the house & area before them. It is a very descriptive book and is meant for those with a love for all things Scottish.
March 15, 2014
Just a wonderful memoir.
January 2, 2015
Dream come true....
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews