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Island Dreams: Mapping an Obsession
In Island Dreams, Gavin Francis journeys into our collective fascination with islands. He blends stories of his own travels with great voyages from literature and philosophical exploration, and he examines the place of islands and isolation in our collective consciousness.
Comparing the life of freedom of thirty years of extraordinary travel - from the Faroe Islands to the Aegean, from the Galapagos to the Andaman Islands - with a life of responsibility as a doctor, community member and parent approaching middle age, Island Dreams riffs on the twinned poles of rest and motion, independence and attachment, never more relevant than in today's perennially connected world.
Beautifully illustrated with maps throughout, this is a celebration of human adventures in the world and within our minds.
Comparing the life of freedom of thirty years of extraordinary travel - from the Faroe Islands to the Aegean, from the Galapagos to the Andaman Islands - with a life of responsibility as a doctor, community member and parent approaching middle age, Island Dreams riffs on the twinned poles of rest and motion, independence and attachment, never more relevant than in today's perennially connected world.
Beautifully illustrated with maps throughout, this is a celebration of human adventures in the world and within our minds.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published May 7, 2020
43 people are currently reading
983 people want to read
About the author
Gavin Francis
21 books138 followersGavin Francis was born in Scotland in 1975, and has travelled widely on all seven continents. He has crossed Eurasia by motorcycle, and spent a year in Antarctica. He works as a medical doctor as well as a writer.
When travelling he is most interested in the way that places shapes the lives and stories of the people who live in them.
His first book, True North: Travels in Arctic Europe, explores the history of Europe's expansion northwards from the first Greek explorers to the Polar expeditions of the late 19th and 20th centuries. It was nominated for a William Mills Prize for Polar Books. Of it Robert Macfarlane wrote: 'a seriously accomplished first book, by a versatile and interesting writer... it is set apart by the elegance and grace of its prose, and by its abiding interest in landscapes of the mind. Francis explores not only the terrain of the far North, but also the ways in which the North has been imagined... a dense and unusual book.'
In 2011 he received a Creative Scotland Writer's Award towards the completion of a book about the year he spent living beside a colony of Emperor Penguins in Antarctica. Empire Antarctica will be published by Chatto & Windus in November 2012.
When travelling he is most interested in the way that places shapes the lives and stories of the people who live in them.
His first book, True North: Travels in Arctic Europe, explores the history of Europe's expansion northwards from the first Greek explorers to the Polar expeditions of the late 19th and 20th centuries. It was nominated for a William Mills Prize for Polar Books. Of it Robert Macfarlane wrote: 'a seriously accomplished first book, by a versatile and interesting writer... it is set apart by the elegance and grace of its prose, and by its abiding interest in landscapes of the mind. Francis explores not only the terrain of the far North, but also the ways in which the North has been imagined... a dense and unusual book.'
In 2011 he received a Creative Scotland Writer's Award towards the completion of a book about the year he spent living beside a colony of Emperor Penguins in Antarctica. Empire Antarctica will be published by Chatto & Windus in November 2012.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 76 reviews
March 16, 2021
A title like this you’d assume would be perfect before bed, and you’d be right. To start with, it’s an enticing construction – great cover, fine paper, playful typography, packed with curious maps colored with highlights of teal and island umber. It’s a kid’s book for adults. However (I am so sad to say) it is as dull as it is beautiful. Francis island-hops around the globe, from the Arctic to the Antarctic, mostly on remote islands north and west of Scotland, yet one learns almost nothing of what he sees. And those vintage maps? Useless. Maps for maps’ sake. With almost every island I had to drag over my iPad and pop up Google maps so I could figure out what & where I was supposed to be seeing. I wanted to drift but not to delve.
The disappointment is doubled when you realize that the author is a doctor, which must in turn involve a wealth of human incident. Yet almost nothing bubbles from beneath, we remain at the enchanted surface, tantalized but never engaged. Where is the obsession? My sleepy mind would ping off to books by Bruce Chatwin or John Berger or, after the umpteenth mention of Alexander Selkirk, to Michel Tournier’s Friday, or, The Other Island. For readers interested in the fantasy of islands, I’d recommend instead Judith Schalansky’s fabulous Atlas of Remote Islands. Island Dreams is marvelous without the magic.
But damn — I can’t help but envy the pattern of this man’s life, which seems a work of art in itself.
The disappointment is doubled when you realize that the author is a doctor, which must in turn involve a wealth of human incident. Yet almost nothing bubbles from beneath, we remain at the enchanted surface, tantalized but never engaged. Where is the obsession? My sleepy mind would ping off to books by Bruce Chatwin or John Berger or, after the umpteenth mention of Alexander Selkirk, to Michel Tournier’s Friday, or, The Other Island. For readers interested in the fantasy of islands, I’d recommend instead Judith Schalansky’s fabulous Atlas of Remote Islands. Island Dreams is marvelous without the magic.
But damn — I can’t help but envy the pattern of this man’s life, which seems a work of art in itself.
June 20, 2021
2.5 Stars!
“I realise that often in adult life I’ve considered books as portable islands, in the way they grant isolation from one’s surroundings, offering relief from immediate demands and space for contemplation.”
Again Francis makes for decent enough company as he waxes lyrical about many of the destinations he has had the fortune and er misfortune to have been acquainted with. I suppose certain people would refer to this as a meditation on islands, which in many ways it is. It kind of idles along, not really committing wholly to anything, which is both its strength and weakness depending on your tastes.
He certainly gets around a bit too, much of this is centred on his native Scotland but he does get as far afield as Greenland, Africa, New Zealand, South America and many others place of exotic and quixotic intrigue.
At times his style and approach reminded me a little of Robert MacFarlane, and his library card is clearly as well used as his passport as he quotes and references many sources from the likes of Plutarch, Marcus Aurelius, Darwin, Melville and Wilde to more contemporary voices in Annie Dillard, Sara Maitland and Rebecca Solnitt.
I can see both sides of the coin with this, in one sense its some guy rambling about everything and nothing, without really saying anything meaningful or important, but still tries to window dress it with a few key names to pretend that he is. Oh you just quoted a Roman you must be saying something profound?! The padding is blatant, and the maps plain filler too.
On the other hand there are some vaguely interesting points, and some memorable passages, and some of the places do sound interesting. I suppose I enjoyed this well enough, but there is an element of…come on mate you’re having a bit of a laugh aren’t you?...
December 27, 2022
Par šo grāmatu man ir dalītas jūtas. Tā vien šķiet, ka šī grāmata tapusi, kad izdevējs paprasījis autoram kaut ko nebūt uzrakstīt, autors izmetis ideju, izdevējs priecīgs piekritis, un tad autors velk ārā no kastēm savas jaunības dienasgrāmatas un mēģina kaut ko sastiķēt. Es vēl arvien uzskatu, ka Gavin Francis ir ārkārtīgi talantīgs rakstnieks. Un šī grāmata ir ļoti skaista, pilna ar dažnedažādām vecām (pārsvarā) un jaunām kartēm, bet stāstījumam trūkst plūduma. Gevins pats sevi sauc par isleofīlu, un visu dzīvi viņš ir meklējis līdzsvaru starp pilsētas dinamiku un no civilizācijas nostāk esošo salu sniegto mieru un izolāciju. Un šeit tad ir saķibinātas kopā ceļojumos tapušas piezīmes. Lai arī viņš zina drēbi, un daudzas viņa piezīmes patiešām ir lasīšanas vērtas, kaut kā te pietrūkst, viss ir tāda lēkāšana no vienas salas uz citu, tā arī nekur neizmetot enkuru un neiejūtoties. Žēl, jo potenciāls šai grāmatai ir daudz lielāks.
August 8, 2021
Se, come me, quest'estate non potete viaggiare, regalatevi un sogno. Le isole per amanti delle isole, descritte da uno che ci è andato, o ne ha letto, o le ha cercate e se n'è perdutamente innamorato.
Io amo le isole, non so nemmeno spiegare perché, e più sono piccole e più il mio sogno si avvera.
Questo libro è arrivato tra le mie mani in un momento perfetto, quando manca ancora molto alla fine di questa lunga estate, quando il caldo mi costringe a casa e non fare nulla, e mia ha permesso di distrarmi e di viaggiare leggendo e inseguendo itinerari su splendide cartine e continuare a sognare e partire alla ricerca dell'isola perfetta. (per ora ne ho due)
Io amo le isole, non so nemmeno spiegare perché, e più sono piccole e più il mio sogno si avvera.
Questo libro è arrivato tra le mie mani in un momento perfetto, quando manca ancora molto alla fine di questa lunga estate, quando il caldo mi costringe a casa e non fare nulla, e mia ha permesso di distrarmi e di viaggiare leggendo e inseguendo itinerari su splendide cartine e continuare a sognare e partire alla ricerca dell'isola perfetta. (per ora ne ho due)
March 16, 2021
Der 1975 geborene Gavin Francis hat als Arzt auf der Isle of Skye, den Orkney Inseln und 14 Monate auf der britischen Forschungsstation Halley in der Arktis gearbeitet, aber auch als Naturschutzwart auf der Isle of May. Lange vor seinem beruflichen Bezug zur Abgeschiedenheit faszinierten ihn Inseln jedoch bereits in der Literatur und auf Landkarten.
Franics' Buch wirkt mit dem Goldstreifen auf dem Titelblatt bereits wie ein kostbarer Foliant, die Kapitel sind jeweils von einer farbigen Seite getrennt, der Text ist zweifarbig gedruckt und nahezu jede Doppelseite enthält eine farbige Landkarte. Die Gliederung der Kurztexte wirkt eher zufällig, sie ist weder geographisch noch chronologisch. Francis ist offensichtlich fasziniert von Autoren/Forschern/literarischen Figuren und deren Inseln. So kann man über Virginia Woolf und ihren Leuchtturm lesen, Thoreaus Walden Pond als Negativ-Version einer Insel, Gefängnis- und Sträflings-Inseln, Leprakolonien, Vogelschutz, über Forscher, Schiffbrüchige, aber auch fantastische Inseln wie Utopia und Avalon.
Francis hat als Insula-philer auf seinen Reisen spürbar den Kontrast zum „wilden Tosen der Arztpraxis“ gesucht, er reiste bis zu den Schilfinseln im Titicaca-See, kehrte jedoch stets wieder zu den Inseln der Nordhalbkugel zurück, den Orkneys, Shetlands, Faröern und Grönland. Entstanden ist ein sehr persönliches Buch, in dem Francis sich der Kontrolliertheit und Selbstgenügsamkeit von Insulanern bewusst wird, aber auch von wiederkehrenden höchst interessanten Träumen berichtet. Folgerichtig bereiste er mit seiner zukünftigen Frau jahrelang Inseln und ankerte mit ihr im Boot an der Nil-Insel Gezira. Das ausgeprägte Bedürfnis des Autors nach Leere gipfelt schließlich in der Erkenntnis, dass auch eine Familie mit Kindern eine Insel und damit schützenswert wäre.
Da ich Francis Interesse an den Inseln des Nordens teile, hat er mir schöne - abgeschiedene – Stunden mit seinen Gedanken über die Inselwelt beschert. Den biographischen Bezug fand ich dabei hochinteressant und blicke begehrlich auf weitere Bücher des Autors.
Franics' Buch wirkt mit dem Goldstreifen auf dem Titelblatt bereits wie ein kostbarer Foliant, die Kapitel sind jeweils von einer farbigen Seite getrennt, der Text ist zweifarbig gedruckt und nahezu jede Doppelseite enthält eine farbige Landkarte. Die Gliederung der Kurztexte wirkt eher zufällig, sie ist weder geographisch noch chronologisch. Francis ist offensichtlich fasziniert von Autoren/Forschern/literarischen Figuren und deren Inseln. So kann man über Virginia Woolf und ihren Leuchtturm lesen, Thoreaus Walden Pond als Negativ-Version einer Insel, Gefängnis- und Sträflings-Inseln, Leprakolonien, Vogelschutz, über Forscher, Schiffbrüchige, aber auch fantastische Inseln wie Utopia und Avalon.
Francis hat als Insula-philer auf seinen Reisen spürbar den Kontrast zum „wilden Tosen der Arztpraxis“ gesucht, er reiste bis zu den Schilfinseln im Titicaca-See, kehrte jedoch stets wieder zu den Inseln der Nordhalbkugel zurück, den Orkneys, Shetlands, Faröern und Grönland. Entstanden ist ein sehr persönliches Buch, in dem Francis sich der Kontrolliertheit und Selbstgenügsamkeit von Insulanern bewusst wird, aber auch von wiederkehrenden höchst interessanten Träumen berichtet. Folgerichtig bereiste er mit seiner zukünftigen Frau jahrelang Inseln und ankerte mit ihr im Boot an der Nil-Insel Gezira. Das ausgeprägte Bedürfnis des Autors nach Leere gipfelt schließlich in der Erkenntnis, dass auch eine Familie mit Kindern eine Insel und damit schützenswert wäre.
Da ich Francis Interesse an den Inseln des Nordens teile, hat er mir schöne - abgeschiedene – Stunden mit seinen Gedanken über die Inselwelt beschert. Den biographischen Bezug fand ich dabei hochinteressant und blicke begehrlich auf weitere Bücher des Autors.
December 5, 2021
It's an absolutely gorgeous book but the inside is just so much fluff. Bits and pieces from other people's lives, beliefs, and books. Made me think I should just read those books instead, at least.
October 19, 2021
I don’t know what it is about islands, but there is something quite special about being on one. It is a fascination that Gavin Francis shares too, and he has been lucky enough to spend thirty years of his life travelling to some of the best islands on this planet, including the Andaman Islands, the Faroe Islands and even the Galapagos.
Most of these travels were because of his work as a doctor. But the book looks at lots of other writers experiences of islands as well as the use that islands have been put to over the years, for example for prisons, leper colonies and for pilgrimages.
This is a beautifully laid out book, full of wonderful maps of islands that Francis has been too, or he has lived on. It feels like a large print book as the text is a larger font and well-spaced. However, the maps are sometimes too small to read any detail from. The prose is well written, but it is a thin veneer of detail about his life travelling to these marvellous places. It is a shame really as it could have been so much better. 2.5 stars
Most of these travels were because of his work as a doctor. But the book looks at lots of other writers experiences of islands as well as the use that islands have been put to over the years, for example for prisons, leper colonies and for pilgrimages.
This is a beautifully laid out book, full of wonderful maps of islands that Francis has been too, or he has lived on. It feels like a large print book as the text is a larger font and well-spaced. However, the maps are sometimes too small to read any detail from. The prose is well written, but it is a thin veneer of detail about his life travelling to these marvellous places. It is a shame really as it could have been so much better. 2.5 stars
February 3, 2023
I'm an admitted isle-o-phile/islomaniac/lover of islands — whatever term gets the message across best — so books about islands are absolutely my cup of tea. But who doesn't love a good island? Who doesn't pine to get away to some isolated spit of land jutting out of a remote corner of the ocean at least some of the time?
What is it about islands that we all find so appealing, then?
For me, I think it's the lack of options. Or rather, the finitude of the land, of the possibilities, laid out before you. Which is why I prefer smaller islands to big ones. When it comes to islands at least, I find that size does matter.
Remoteness obviously plays a part as well, the role of the island as an isolated utopia. An island accessible only by sea is infinitely preferable to one you can hop a plane to.
And to think that being marooned was historically a bad thing. That the ship would leave you, typically with all manner of supplies to help you on, and then set off without you? Think about how much people would to have a similar experience these days! To be "stranded" all alone on an island. To truly get away from it all.
Aren't we all drawn to islands because they signify just that sort of escape? Because they represent an outlet from which to flee society?
Don't we all envy Robinson Crusoe a bit? Don't we pine — at least a little bit — to wash up on a desert island à la Tom Hanks in "Cast Away"? Isn't that the life our spirits actually crave?
We all crave the simplicity of the island because, for many of us, the mainland has left us wanting.
An island is a lessening of the burden that is life, or at least of life in a capitalistic society. Because what is life on the American mainland if not an unending series of decisions — where to go to school, where to live, who to love, what to wear, what laundry detergent to buy — and it never stops until you die. But an island in the classical sense — not in the "holiday package tour" sense in which the island acts as merely an extension of capitalistic society — is a drastic shrinking of those choices, a forced reduction in the options we are daily confronted with.
Crest! No, Colgate! Wait, Tom's!
None of it matters, and yet our mental capacity is constantly taken up with wading through this sort of meaningless minutiae.
What to order? Where to vacation? When to retire?
While reading "Island Dreams" I ruminated on some of these questions and others. It's a beautiful book, one full of ruminations, of fleeting thoughts and half-remembered pasts. It is exactly the kind of book I enjoy reading more and more these days — one not burdened by a narrative but not hampered by the lack of one either.
It is a book to muse in. To think, as you read, about anything and everything. To go where the words take you.
What is it about islands that we all find so appealing, then?
For me, I think it's the lack of options. Or rather, the finitude of the land, of the possibilities, laid out before you. Which is why I prefer smaller islands to big ones. When it comes to islands at least, I find that size does matter.
Remoteness obviously plays a part as well, the role of the island as an isolated utopia. An island accessible only by sea is infinitely preferable to one you can hop a plane to.
And to think that being marooned was historically a bad thing. That the ship would leave you, typically with all manner of supplies to help you on, and then set off without you? Think about how much people would to have a similar experience these days! To be "stranded" all alone on an island. To truly get away from it all.
Aren't we all drawn to islands because they signify just that sort of escape? Because they represent an outlet from which to flee society?
Don't we all envy Robinson Crusoe a bit? Don't we pine — at least a little bit — to wash up on a desert island à la Tom Hanks in "Cast Away"? Isn't that the life our spirits actually crave?
We all crave the simplicity of the island because, for many of us, the mainland has left us wanting.
An island is a lessening of the burden that is life, or at least of life in a capitalistic society. Because what is life on the American mainland if not an unending series of decisions — where to go to school, where to live, who to love, what to wear, what laundry detergent to buy — and it never stops until you die. But an island in the classical sense — not in the "holiday package tour" sense in which the island acts as merely an extension of capitalistic society — is a drastic shrinking of those choices, a forced reduction in the options we are daily confronted with.
Crest! No, Colgate! Wait, Tom's!
None of it matters, and yet our mental capacity is constantly taken up with wading through this sort of meaningless minutiae.
What to order? Where to vacation? When to retire?
While reading "Island Dreams" I ruminated on some of these questions and others. It's a beautiful book, one full of ruminations, of fleeting thoughts and half-remembered pasts. It is exactly the kind of book I enjoy reading more and more these days — one not burdened by a narrative but not hampered by the lack of one either.
It is a book to muse in. To think, as you read, about anything and everything. To go where the words take you.
June 4, 2022
A dream is exactly how I would describe this book, fragments of islands & the author’s memories. The writings are loosely linked into chapters & not exactly linked by chronology & there are very many beautiful maps. There isn’t really a goal to this book & it’s nice to read for the sake of it for a change.
December 30, 2023
Isolation vs. Connection; isolation with connection...isle-ophiles struggle with one or the other, or with the balance of both. Being an isle-ophile myself, I loved the snippets of tales, old and new, real and fantasy, of islanders throughout history, as well as the author's own island experiences and dreams. Beautifully written!
April 26, 2022
I couldn’t get on board with the shallow island-hopping style of prose (it took over a year to build the momentum to finish this) but I will keep this as a coffee table book because the cover is beautiful
March 16, 2022
I can't help but feel conned by this.
The precise sounds fascinating, but the book reads still like the precise..
In a similar manner to Judith Schalansky's Atlas of Remote Islands a lot of the space in these pages is occupied by maps, small sketches alone on a page, gaps between chapters, and an index that occupies a third of the book. m
It is extremely light on text, though what Francis does choose to share with us, is tantalisingly appealing.
The whole thing feels like it is unfinished.
The precise sounds fascinating, but the book reads still like the precise..
In a similar manner to Judith Schalansky's Atlas of Remote Islands a lot of the space in these pages is occupied by maps, small sketches alone on a page, gaps between chapters, and an index that occupies a third of the book. m
It is extremely light on text, though what Francis does choose to share with us, is tantalisingly appealing.
The whole thing feels like it is unfinished.
August 30, 2022
Was drawn in by the pretty format and cover...but this was disappointing. I thought it would be more of a critical engagement with the romanticisation of islands but instead it just perpetuated it - and don't get me wrong, I fuckn love an island! But this was poorly written and felt almost like a wandering reference drop with neither an indepth exploration of the subject matter or the self.
July 22, 2023
I read this book with the purpose of learning more about island geography and what not for a story I want to write. I didn't really get that--only a sort of rambling. Though I did find some things of interest here, and it was an interesting look into the author's life so I'll give it a 3 out of 5.
Read
December 3, 20205* for the content but the style was pretty random. Islomaniacs like me should love the book though!
November 13, 2020
From the original Utopia to Robinson Crusoe, from Lord of the Flies to Love Island – sometimes hard to tell the difference – we’ve always been obsessed by islands. They are paradises and prisons, faraway places of escape and exile, where dreams and nightmares can come true. Gavin has been obsessed by islands since he was a boy and ended up on Antarctica but that still wasn’t remote enough. I am also obessed by islands and Gavinbg has trhe same internal tension--he wants to with people but also away from them, alone but together. It's a memoir of an obsession and it's excellent travel during lockdown. Gavin was a guest on my BBC TV Show The Big Scottish Book Club and you can catch me talking to him about his book on BBC iPlayer.
September 27, 2025
Really not great. It reads like the kind of book an urban dwelling, spiritually lost soul reads to "reconnect" with a vague notion of the real world, or to realise that wanting to escape and get more in touch with nature is something other people also want to do. How profound. Also it is a short book anyway, but having pages with just maps and other pages with just one three-line paragraph to then sell to me as a spiritually rich £10.99 book is a bit rich. The author has hardly written 70 pages here, and most of it is disconnected meditative waffle with only glimpses of real lives and real places that actually capture the magic of islands.
This work is really not as profound as the author thinks it is. For a brief time in the middle the stories were more fleshed out, the reflections more substantive, and I started to like it. But then it stopped and reverted to the same empty prose. I feel a bit conned, as if this book was lazily written just to be published rather than to say something. This could have been much, much better.
This work is really not as profound as the author thinks it is. For a brief time in the middle the stories were more fleshed out, the reflections more substantive, and I started to like it. But then it stopped and reverted to the same empty prose. I feel a bit conned, as if this book was lazily written just to be published rather than to say something. This could have been much, much better.
October 23, 2021
Libro che mette insieme racconti di viaggio, frammenti di memoir, citazioni e, soprattutto, mappe di luoghi lontani e affascinanti.
Il contenuto non è imperdibile, ma a livello estetico è una delle cose più belle viste quest’anno.
[70/100]
Thoreau cercava di conciliare l’attrazione che provava per i boschi con la spinta a lasciarsi coinvolgere nei piaceri intellettuali, mondani e fisici della società, il che sembra un discreto riassunto di quello che sto cercando di fare qui: una semplice e onesta cartografia della mia ossessione per il fascino speculare ma opposto delle isole e della città, dell’isolamento e della connessione.
Il contenuto non è imperdibile, ma a livello estetico è una delle cose più belle viste quest’anno.
[70/100]
Thoreau cercava di conciliare l’attrazione che provava per i boschi con la spinta a lasciarsi coinvolgere nei piaceri intellettuali, mondani e fisici della società, il che sembra un discreto riassunto di quello che sto cercando di fare qui: una semplice e onesta cartografia della mia ossessione per il fascino speculare ma opposto delle isole e della città, dell’isolamento e della connessione.
April 13, 2021
Le isole visitate e abitate da Gavin Francis, le isole narrate da centinaia di scrittori e poeti nel corso dei secoli. Un viaggio geografico e nell’immaginazione, una vera chicca.
April 16, 2025
3.5 stars — not perfect but by golly did i LOVE it
August 5, 2023
Beautiful cover. Beautiful maps. Beautiful prose.
A beautiful book.
A beautiful book.
July 22, 2024
I love islands so much. This was informative and fascinating.
December 27, 2021
I haven't read much travel writing, but this was super interesting! Got you thinking about our intrigue of Island life and why we desire it so
April 24, 2025
Finally, someone as obsessed with Islands as me! 🗿🥭🌴🏝️🏕️
August 25, 2021
Island Dreams: Mapping an Obsession by Gavin Francis was a psychological trip into my own island obsession. I read eerie similarities between the author and myself in analyzing our mutual preference for taking holidays to insular destinations. I had a feeling that I would be reading deep into my own mind when I encountered, on the very first page, the author’s earliest memories of visiting libraries and what he enjoyed most about them:
“Thinking of islands often returns me in memory to the municipal library I visited as a child. The library was one of the grandest buildings in town–entered directly from the street through heavy brass doors, each one tessellated in panes of glass thick as lenses. By age eight or nine I’d exhausted the children’s library and been given an adult borrower’s ticket. But as my mother browsed the shelves, often as not I’d sit down on the scratchy carpet tiles and open an immense atlas, running my fingers over distant and unreachable archipelagos as if reading Braille. I hardly dared hope I’d reach any of them; that I have reached a few is something of a relief. And so the love of islands has always, for me, been inextricable from the love of maps.”
Francis and I shared the exact same story, although I was a little older when I discovered the National Geographic Atlas of the World. What draws us to these destinations? Surely there are other places that are just as interesting yet easier to get to. Why spend extra time and expense hightailing it to a dot in the water? Francis elaborates on a possible answer:
“But through adolescence, medical school, and working as a doctor in speciality training, it began to dawn on me that I sought out islands to recalibrate my sense of what matters. Their absence of connection, their isolation, was therapeutic in a way I found difficult to articulate.”
During my travelogue presentations on my trips to Tristan da Cunha, I give a brief history of the island and my particular attraction to it. Knowing that people who attend my shows are there to see photos from my trips and not to sit there listening to some guy talking in front of a blank screen, in my opening monologue I defer to the excuse “I’d have to lie down on a psychiatrist’s couch in order to explain in depth my psychological attraction to islands as vacation destinations”. For Francis is correct: it is difficult to articulate the reasons we find islands so appealing. I find it therapeutic as well, as I use islands as a way to get away from people and the proverbial hustle and bustle of my everyday life. How else to explain my penchant for visiting isolated islands or ones that have low populations? You don’t find me taking trips to Indonesia, Japan or the Philippines, for example. Yet my own travel blog is filled with vacation reports–and often repeated trips–spent in the Åland Islands, Ile de Batz, Bornholm, Christiansø, the Faroe Islands, Grímsey, Iceland, McNabs Island, Nightingale Island, Pelee Island, Tristan da Cunha, Vardø, and Vestmannaeyjar. Last year Mark and I had planned a trip to Europe which included a stop in the Isle of Man.
While I have to use vacation time to visit these islands, Francis was a doctor and made his obsession a part of his job by taking temporary medical assignments to remote islands the world over. In Island Dreams, we follow him as he travels the world but his story is not a chronological narrative. In fact, his book is heavy on the maps and low on the text. The book is only 246 pages long but printed on thick paper–perhaps in homage to the exploration maps of centuries ago. Francis gave the reading experience the conscious feeling of containment, as the text was descriptive and informative yet brief, captured on pages with wide margins and headers and footers. Pages therefore resembled islands of text surrounded by moats of margins. The words themselves were contained, as I never saw a hyphenated word split across two pages and with rare exception each page ended with complete sentences, anchored by periods.
Francis wrote some evocative descriptions of his travels, such as this memory of the aurora borealis:
“A wash of swirling luminescence rose and fell, like marbled endpapers spread over the book of the sea.”
While visiting the Andaman Islands, my temples started to throb when Francis wrote:
“On the ground the heat was like a migraine, pounding and shimmering, fracturing the light.”
Francis filled his book with maps, almost all of which were historical in context and thus may not have even referred to the places he was discussing by their current names. Maps flanked the text so the reader never had to flip ahead or back to find out where he was writing about. Some maps weren’t even in English. In spite of these forms of disguise, I found it a pleasure to try to find the islands from these small maps, as it wasn’t always easy and I often used a magnifying glass. It is fitting that he used Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island as the map on the book cover; each antiquated map Francis supplied yielded its own treasure to the reader with the patience to search within it.
January 10, 2021
I was left a little disappointed by this book. As a lover of islands myself, I'd found I'd visited many of them that get a mention in this book (Orkney, Shetland, Lewis, Harris, Gigha). However, it is often just a mention. The nature of the prose is quite rambling at times, with some sections feeling like streams of thought that have been left unfinished. Having said that, there were some interesting parts. Above all else, this, as a hardback book, is simply beautiful. The text is used sparingly; the font size (Baskerville) is just right - it's not too big to suggest a large-print edition, nor is it too small. On many pages the text is limited to just a handful of lines. Francis, liberally quotes from other authors, and those larger quotes appear in a larger, sea-blue font. The same colour is used full page to intersperse the chapters, for the compass motif that appears opposite those pages, and for the island references in the margins. However, what makes this book (as a cartophile) are the frequent maps that appear. For every island mention, there is an accompanying map: some are very old, others more modern. Regardless they add colour and interest.
January 24, 2021
To isolate, but not be insulated to the world.
This book is a meditation about separation and connectivity.
In time when islands are our own homes, this book gave the feeling what a travel to these remote places would feel like.
This book is a meditation about separation and connectivity.
In time when islands are our own homes, this book gave the feeling what a travel to these remote places would feel like.
March 24, 2021
Klappentext:
„Inseln üben seit jeher eine besondere Faszination und Anziehung auf uns aus. Sie können Orte der Ruhe und Entspannung sein. Heilige oder heilende Orte. Isolation im besten oder schlechtesten Sinne. Wir verbinden sie mit berühmten Entdeckern wie Charles Darwin oder Christoph Kolumbus und durch Romane wie ›Robinson Crusoe‹ oder ›Die Schatzinsel‹ mit Abenteuern und Gefahren, Sehnsucht und Einsamkeit.
All diesen und weiteren Facetten des Insellebens geht Gavin Francis nach. Dabei wirft er philosophische und psychologische Fragen auf und greift sowohl auf die großen Reiseerzählungen der Literatur als auch auf seine eigenen Erfahrungen als Inselbewohner und -reisender zurück. Er führt uns nach Treasure Island und zu den fernen Galapagosinseln, erzählt von seiner Zeit als Leuchtturmwärter auf der kleinen schottischen Isle of May – und von dem Spagat, sein Verlangen nach Selbstbestimmtheit mit dem Leben als Arzt und Familienvater zu vereinen.
›Inseln. Die Kartierung einer Sehnsucht‹ spielt mit den Gegenpolen von Ruhe und Bewegung, Unabhängigkeit und Verbundenheit, die nie relevanter waren als in unserer heutigen, permanent vernetzten Welt.“
Dieses Buch eignet sich hervorragend als Lektüre für regnerische und stürmische Tage, die man lieber auf dem Sofa verbringen sollte. Allein die Optik und Haptik des Buches an sich ist ein echter Augenschmauß: tief geprägte goldene Partien, eine sehr stilvolle Covergestaltung an sich, ein handliches Leseformat mit kräftigen Seiten und ausgezeichnetem Druck - allein dafür gibt es schon Sternchen! Aber der Inhalt ist ebenso ein Knaller! Ich habe schon einige Bücher zu dem Thema gelesen aber dieses hier ist genau das, was ich mir immer gewünscht hatte. Es behandelt unheimlich kurzweilig die Thematik der Geschichte und der Gegenwart. Wir Leser dürfen gedanklich auf Inseln reisen, mit Entdeckern die Welt umsegeln, hinter die Fassaden der Bewohner blicken, unbekannte Inseln das erste Mal betreten und staunen. Aber nicht nur das! Autor Gavin Francis hat ein sehr feines philosophische Gespür und das passt zu den Inseln, wie die zu den alten Griechen.
Nach beenden dieses Buch legt man es zwar zur Seite, denkt aber doch noch lange darüber nach....Was dürfen wir Menschen? Was bringt unser Handeln mit sich? Dürfen wir uns alles zu Eigen machen? Naturschutz? Geschichte? Entdeckungen? Francis hat mich ganz tief mit diesem Buch beeindruckt und eine andere Sicht der Dinge in mir geöffnet.
Ein wirklich sinnliches und tiefgründiges Buch, das ebenso eine Gedankenreise zur inneren Insel der Leser auslöst....Hier liegt noch so viel verborgen...
„Inseln üben seit jeher eine besondere Faszination und Anziehung auf uns aus. Sie können Orte der Ruhe und Entspannung sein. Heilige oder heilende Orte. Isolation im besten oder schlechtesten Sinne. Wir verbinden sie mit berühmten Entdeckern wie Charles Darwin oder Christoph Kolumbus und durch Romane wie ›Robinson Crusoe‹ oder ›Die Schatzinsel‹ mit Abenteuern und Gefahren, Sehnsucht und Einsamkeit.
All diesen und weiteren Facetten des Insellebens geht Gavin Francis nach. Dabei wirft er philosophische und psychologische Fragen auf und greift sowohl auf die großen Reiseerzählungen der Literatur als auch auf seine eigenen Erfahrungen als Inselbewohner und -reisender zurück. Er führt uns nach Treasure Island und zu den fernen Galapagosinseln, erzählt von seiner Zeit als Leuchtturmwärter auf der kleinen schottischen Isle of May – und von dem Spagat, sein Verlangen nach Selbstbestimmtheit mit dem Leben als Arzt und Familienvater zu vereinen.
›Inseln. Die Kartierung einer Sehnsucht‹ spielt mit den Gegenpolen von Ruhe und Bewegung, Unabhängigkeit und Verbundenheit, die nie relevanter waren als in unserer heutigen, permanent vernetzten Welt.“
Dieses Buch eignet sich hervorragend als Lektüre für regnerische und stürmische Tage, die man lieber auf dem Sofa verbringen sollte. Allein die Optik und Haptik des Buches an sich ist ein echter Augenschmauß: tief geprägte goldene Partien, eine sehr stilvolle Covergestaltung an sich, ein handliches Leseformat mit kräftigen Seiten und ausgezeichnetem Druck - allein dafür gibt es schon Sternchen! Aber der Inhalt ist ebenso ein Knaller! Ich habe schon einige Bücher zu dem Thema gelesen aber dieses hier ist genau das, was ich mir immer gewünscht hatte. Es behandelt unheimlich kurzweilig die Thematik der Geschichte und der Gegenwart. Wir Leser dürfen gedanklich auf Inseln reisen, mit Entdeckern die Welt umsegeln, hinter die Fassaden der Bewohner blicken, unbekannte Inseln das erste Mal betreten und staunen. Aber nicht nur das! Autor Gavin Francis hat ein sehr feines philosophische Gespür und das passt zu den Inseln, wie die zu den alten Griechen.
Nach beenden dieses Buch legt man es zwar zur Seite, denkt aber doch noch lange darüber nach....Was dürfen wir Menschen? Was bringt unser Handeln mit sich? Dürfen wir uns alles zu Eigen machen? Naturschutz? Geschichte? Entdeckungen? Francis hat mich ganz tief mit diesem Buch beeindruckt und eine andere Sicht der Dinge in mir geöffnet.
Ein wirklich sinnliches und tiefgründiges Buch, das ebenso eine Gedankenreise zur inneren Insel der Leser auslöst....Hier liegt noch so viel verborgen...
April 10, 2021
Von Flucht und Sehnsucht, Isolation und Verbundenheit
Inseln üben eine große Faszination auf uns auf. Nicht umsonst stellen wir uns immer wieder die Frage „Was würden wir auf eine einsame Insel mitnehmen?“ Inseln sind auch Sehnsuchtsorte. Wer dem geschäftigen Treiben der Stadt entfliehen möchte, träumt sich weit weg auf eine Insel. Doch Inseln können auch Orte der Verbannung sein. Man denke dabei nur an das prominenteste Beispiel Napoleon Bonaparte und St. Helena. Oder Orte der Gefangenschaft. Inseln sind Orte der Isolation. Im positiven wie im negativen Sinne.
„Auf den Andamanen […] wurde mir klar, dass Isolation und Verbundenheit die beiden Energiepole meines Lebens waren. Zum einen der Arztberuf mit seiner Intensität, seinem sozialen Engagement, seinem Logenplatz nah an der ganzen Betriebsamkeit und Brillanz der Menschheit. Und zum anderen die Inselaufenthalte und Polarreisen – mit der Distanz und der Aussicht, die sie bieten, der Chance, sich einer vom Menschlichen einigermaßen entleerten Welt zugehörig zu fühlen, ihrer Stille und dem Raum zur Kontemplation.“
Seit der schottische Arzt und Schriftsteller Gavin Francis denken kann, üben Inseln eine große Faszination auf ihn aus. Seine Insula-philie führte ihn dabei auf die unterschiedlichsten Inseln. So war er beispielsweise als Arzt auf der Antarktis tätig, als Naturschutzwart und Leuchtturmwärter auf der kleinen schottischen Isle of May, als Freiwilligenarbeiter auf Grönland. Er durchwanderte ganze Inseln, schlief im Zelt und suchte Klöster auf. Auf dreißig Jahre des Reisens blickt der Autor in seinem Werk „Inseln“ zurück.
Viele Exkurse aus der Geschichte und Literatur, psychologische und philosophische Fragen, sowie Reflexionen von Personen, die Francis auf seinen Reisen kennenlernte, ergänzen seine eigenen Erlebnisse. [Besonders oft fällt der Name Alexander Selkirk, der 1704 auf einer Insel im Südpazifik ausgesetzt wurde und erst nach vier Jahren und vier Monaten gerettet wurde. Selkirks Geschichte inspirierte Daniel Defoe zu seinem „Robinson Crusoe“]. Ergänzt wird dieses sehr interessante Konglomerat durch schöne Illustrationen. Es ist ein sehr lesenswertes Buch voller Wissen und Erkenntnis.
„Die Insel: eine ganze Welt, auf der die Feinheiten und Komplikationen des menschlichen Lebens en miniature nachgebildet sind? Oder ein Kloster, abgeschottet von der Welt, von der Industriegesellschaft, vom entscheidenden Wirken der Geschichte?
»Bring die Kinder einfach an den Strand«, sagte eine Freundin, »dann vergnügen sie sich selbst.« Sind all diese Inselträume schlicht ein Echo von Kindheitsglück?“
Inseln üben eine große Faszination auf uns auf. Nicht umsonst stellen wir uns immer wieder die Frage „Was würden wir auf eine einsame Insel mitnehmen?“ Inseln sind auch Sehnsuchtsorte. Wer dem geschäftigen Treiben der Stadt entfliehen möchte, träumt sich weit weg auf eine Insel. Doch Inseln können auch Orte der Verbannung sein. Man denke dabei nur an das prominenteste Beispiel Napoleon Bonaparte und St. Helena. Oder Orte der Gefangenschaft. Inseln sind Orte der Isolation. Im positiven wie im negativen Sinne.
„Auf den Andamanen […] wurde mir klar, dass Isolation und Verbundenheit die beiden Energiepole meines Lebens waren. Zum einen der Arztberuf mit seiner Intensität, seinem sozialen Engagement, seinem Logenplatz nah an der ganzen Betriebsamkeit und Brillanz der Menschheit. Und zum anderen die Inselaufenthalte und Polarreisen – mit der Distanz und der Aussicht, die sie bieten, der Chance, sich einer vom Menschlichen einigermaßen entleerten Welt zugehörig zu fühlen, ihrer Stille und dem Raum zur Kontemplation.“
Seit der schottische Arzt und Schriftsteller Gavin Francis denken kann, üben Inseln eine große Faszination auf ihn aus. Seine Insula-philie führte ihn dabei auf die unterschiedlichsten Inseln. So war er beispielsweise als Arzt auf der Antarktis tätig, als Naturschutzwart und Leuchtturmwärter auf der kleinen schottischen Isle of May, als Freiwilligenarbeiter auf Grönland. Er durchwanderte ganze Inseln, schlief im Zelt und suchte Klöster auf. Auf dreißig Jahre des Reisens blickt der Autor in seinem Werk „Inseln“ zurück.
Viele Exkurse aus der Geschichte und Literatur, psychologische und philosophische Fragen, sowie Reflexionen von Personen, die Francis auf seinen Reisen kennenlernte, ergänzen seine eigenen Erlebnisse. [Besonders oft fällt der Name Alexander Selkirk, der 1704 auf einer Insel im Südpazifik ausgesetzt wurde und erst nach vier Jahren und vier Monaten gerettet wurde. Selkirks Geschichte inspirierte Daniel Defoe zu seinem „Robinson Crusoe“]. Ergänzt wird dieses sehr interessante Konglomerat durch schöne Illustrationen. Es ist ein sehr lesenswertes Buch voller Wissen und Erkenntnis.
„Die Insel: eine ganze Welt, auf der die Feinheiten und Komplikationen des menschlichen Lebens en miniature nachgebildet sind? Oder ein Kloster, abgeschottet von der Welt, von der Industriegesellschaft, vom entscheidenden Wirken der Geschichte?
»Bring die Kinder einfach an den Strand«, sagte eine Freundin, »dann vergnügen sie sich selbst.« Sind all diese Inselträume schlicht ein Echo von Kindheitsglück?“
May 10, 2021
This is not only a beautifully written book about the beauty of isolation that is inherent with islands; it is also a beautifully presented book: in the hardback version I have read, there is pleasure in holding a well-crafted volume with its textured cover embossed with gold leaf, wrapped around substantial pages to be turned, displaying text in mixed normal and italic, black and teal; with maps of colour floating, like the islands they show, in a cream-coloured sea. A book for lovers of books to hold as well as book lovers to read.
Full of his own first-hand observations of the isolation of island life, Island Dreams makes reference to other isolationist islanders including the resonant 'No Man is an Island' by John Donne which is worth including, in full, as it sums up much of the purpose and context of the book:
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
From MEDITATION XVII
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
It is an engaging blend of his own anecdotes with great voyages in literature and philosophy; going north to south between the poles: Faroe Islands and Greenland to Andaman; west to east, ocean to ocean, with Orkneys as a jump-off point in the Atlantic and Galapagos Darwin’s
landing point in the Pacific.
Beautifully illustrated with maps,antique and contemporary, this is a traveller and map lovers delight.
Full of his own first-hand observations of the isolation of island life, Island Dreams makes reference to other isolationist islanders including the resonant 'No Man is an Island' by John Donne which is worth including, in full, as it sums up much of the purpose and context of the book:
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
From MEDITATION XVII
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
It is an engaging blend of his own anecdotes with great voyages in literature and philosophy; going north to south between the poles: Faroe Islands and Greenland to Andaman; west to east, ocean to ocean, with Orkneys as a jump-off point in the Atlantic and Galapagos Darwin’s
landing point in the Pacific.
Beautifully illustrated with maps,antique and contemporary, this is a traveller and map lovers delight.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 76 reviews