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And the Land Lay Still
And the Land Lay Still is the sweeping Scottish epic by James Robertson
And the Land Lay Still is nothing less than the story of a nation. James Robertson's breathtaking novel is a portrait of modern Scotland as seen through the eyes of natives and immigrants, journalists and politicians, drop-outs and spooks, all trying to make their way through a country in the throes of great and rapid change. It is a moving, sweeping story of family, friendship, struggle and hope - epic in every sense.
The winner of the Saltire Society Scottish Book of the Year Award 2010, And the Land Lay Still is a masterful insight into Scotland's history in the twentieth century and a moving, beautifully written novel of intertwined stories.
And the Land Lay Still is nothing less than the story of a nation. James Robertson's breathtaking novel is a portrait of modern Scotland as seen through the eyes of natives and immigrants, journalists and politicians, drop-outs and spooks, all trying to make their way through a country in the throes of great and rapid change. It is a moving, sweeping story of family, friendship, struggle and hope - epic in every sense.
The winner of the Saltire Society Scottish Book of the Year Award 2010, And the Land Lay Still is a masterful insight into Scotland's history in the twentieth century and a moving, beautifully written novel of intertwined stories.
673 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2010
118 people are currently reading
2274 people want to read
About the author
James Robertson
333 books269 followersJames Robertson (born 1958) is a Scottish writer who grew up in Bridge of Allan, Stirlingshire. He is the author of several short story and poetry collections, and has published four novels: The Fanatic, Joseph Knight, The Testament of Gideon Mack, and And the Land Lay Still. Joseph Knight was named both the Scottish Arts Council Book of the Year and the Saltire Society Book of the Year in 2003/04. The Testament of Gideon Mack was long-listed for the 2006 Man Booker Prize. And the Land Lay Still was awarded the Saltire Society Book of the Year Award in 2010. Robertson has also established an independent publishing imprint called Kettillonia, which produces occasional pamphlets and books of poetry and short prose, and he is a co-founder and the general editor of the Scots language imprint Itchy Coo, which produces books in Scots for children and young people. He lives in rural Angus.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 188 reviews
August 30, 2022
James Robertson's left-leaning politics are similar in many ways to those held by English author Jonathan Coe, so it's no surprise that I saw this mammoth novel as a sort of Scottish counterpart to Coe's Rotters Club Trilogy, not only on terms of scope - it covers the period from WW2 to 2008 - but also in its abundant cast of characters and obsession with national politics. Like Coe's works, I felt that the emphasis on politics in this novel was too detailed at times, its descriptions of political events taking away from the stories of and relationships shared by its characters. But while this resulted in a book that was probably 200 pages too long, the sections that left politics behind were so beautifully, beautifully written that it would be an injustice to take a star away from my final rating. It's a tough read, but a rewarding one, and I'll remember it, particularly, for the tears the story brought to my eyes on five or six separate occasions.
November 29, 2010
This is a big book and it’s complicated. The quality of the writing is lovely—such pleasurable rolling phrases and paragraphs. Such ease and flow, such assured connectedness. All this is the mark of a mature novelist, writing in his prime. But what a task he has set himself here! The tale covers not only several plot lines and groups of characters, it tells the story of a whole country (Scotland) over five decades. In fact, Scotland herself may be the main character—although I don’t think she is exactly. I believe the main character is Jack, the man who goes missing on page 211 and who finally turns up again, in a photograph, on page 666.
The novel opens with Michael Pendreich, a photographer trying to “impose a bit more order” on the archive of his father’s work. Angus Pendreich is the real artist—the father with whom the son can never catch up. And in a way, he is also a missing character. We only pick up bits of his story from other characters who have known him. Angus, too, is a story-teller, but his story is visual. It is a photographic narrative of Scotland over fifty years—or at least that’s how his son Michael sees it. Meanwhile, the novel itself is James Robertson’s attempt to “impose a bit more order” on half a century of Scottish social and political history, pieced together through the lives of some of its people. Narrative within narrative, story within story.
The reader, too, follows the various threads, creating a sense of what has ‘really’ been going on, having faith that the novelist will somehow assemble the plot pieces in the final analysis. Which he does. “Things fall into place” (which could also be the novel’s subtitle). Or more or less. Michael’s task, it appears, is to make “the connections, more of them than he can know or imagine”. There is a kind of dénouement in the concluding chapter, in which a number of things are made plain, and some things not.
But the enduring power of this novel, it seems to me, is that one is left pondering the various elements: reviewing where the Stone of Destiny and Margaret Thatcher fitted in, ‘seeing’ the photograph of Mick McGahy as tragic hero, mentally inhabiting a time when the Ministry of War had only recently turned into the Ministry of Defence. I wept at the resolution of Michael Pendreich’s own love story—I admit it. Any novel worth its salt must make the reader tearful at some point.
It is a tricky thing, though, to combine so many different characters and there was a point where I disengaged slightly. This may be because I am a slightly old-fashioned novel reader. I hanker to identify strongly with one of the situations or characters and in this case I was moved from one to another and I didn’t care about them all equally, even when compelling things were happening to them. I wanted to get back to Michael Pendreich and the photographs and the difficulty of writing the introduction to his father’s work. The novel returns to that, in the end, and the end is worth waiting for, but it takes time.
On first reading, too, I was uneasy with some of the visual aspects of the book. One of the connecting threads is a set of meditations, each of which is an insight into the mind of Jack. These are among the most interesting parts of the whole work—but italics are hard going, and the second-person singular (“When you first set out there were still heavy horses pulling the ploughs but before long they were all but gone . . .”) was such a strong evocation of Grassic Gibbon that it made me uneasy, although the style is also a necessary marker—so strong that it outweighs the necessity for a different typeface. Besides we’re soon into Michael’s attempt to write a preface to his father’s collected works (another new typeface), and then, mysteriously, in part three the page format changes from fully-justified to left-justified. These visual variations were, to me, a distraction.
There is a risk, too, that the social and political background, meticulously etched in as a backdrop to the personal stories, is less appealing to some readers than others. The further away it gets, of course, the more you see it as a ‘story’, rather than just the recent past. Which brings me to the central idea, or what appears to be central, that we should “trust the story”. It’s an insight that comes to Michael (the man who makes the connections) while making a public speech about his father’s work:
“Whatever else we put faith in will, in the end, betray us or we will betray it. But the story never betrays. It twists and turns and sometimes it takes you to terrible places and sometimes it gets lost or appears to abandon you, but if you look hard enough it is still there. It goes on. The story is the only thing we can really, truly know.”
This is persuasive rhetoric, and it is also the experience of reading this novel. But is it true in absolute terms? I’m not convinced we ever “truly know” the story, although the ongoing narrative is what keeps the fascination, what holds the necessary sense of inner meaning, even when that meaning is too profound to put into words—and too simple: it is a supply of pebbles, smoothed by the sea, passed from person to person, each tasted or discarded, or treasured in secret. These stones, these symbols, are part of Jack’s story. They serve to remind us, like Jean Barbour’s tales of Jack the adventurer, that James Robertson is also a poet.
Jean Barbour, a character I wanted more of, occupies the role of story-teller several times, and she is the person who first comes out with the watchwords: “Trust the story”. Two of her ‘folk’ stories work their way into the novel. First, there’s the cautionary tale of the young man who wanted to know what happened at the end of the story—an object lesson in why one should have patience. Second, there’s the story of one of Jack’s adventures (as in bean stalk)—the one where he goes to look over the edge of the world, leaving his own soul as security. These are wonderful pieces of narration, little fragments of the old tradition, gleaming like jewels in the novel at large. They tell a truth, and they tell it beautifully slant. Jean Barbour says she has “always wanted to tell a story with no beginning, no middle and no end”. And when pushed by Mike to explain what this story is—“It’s about us, all of us. It’s the story we’re in.”
And the Land Lay Still is the story James Robertson and his contemporary readers are in. It’s the author’s life story, although he doesn’t appear in person. And yet he is in it, is he not? Isn’t he omni-present, as well as a living witness to the social narrative?
The novel is a powerful piece of work and a cracking (and at times, crackling) read. Its scope is immense, its authorial control assured. Mingling truth and fiction, a time-honoured technique, makes the imaginative elements feel curiously true, especially if you were there, as it were. If you were not there, you could do worse than read this as an introduction to contemporary Scotland—what made us as we are, what continues to shape our future. Many of the characters must be recognizable in other civilizations too: the idea of nationality as a continually changing concept is transferable to any people and any setting. Or you could just read it for the story.
So what does happen at the end? We don’t know yet, because the story hasn’t ended, and if it had a beginning, it is too far back to remember. All we know is we are connected—in one way or another, we make connections. Things fall into place, and we call that process a story. At least we do when those ‘things’ have fallen into the hands of a true artist, someone who captivates, entertains and controls, and still trusts the story, rather than his own version of events. Which describes James Robertson rather well.
The novel opens with Michael Pendreich, a photographer trying to “impose a bit more order” on the archive of his father’s work. Angus Pendreich is the real artist—the father with whom the son can never catch up. And in a way, he is also a missing character. We only pick up bits of his story from other characters who have known him. Angus, too, is a story-teller, but his story is visual. It is a photographic narrative of Scotland over fifty years—or at least that’s how his son Michael sees it. Meanwhile, the novel itself is James Robertson’s attempt to “impose a bit more order” on half a century of Scottish social and political history, pieced together through the lives of some of its people. Narrative within narrative, story within story.
The reader, too, follows the various threads, creating a sense of what has ‘really’ been going on, having faith that the novelist will somehow assemble the plot pieces in the final analysis. Which he does. “Things fall into place” (which could also be the novel’s subtitle). Or more or less. Michael’s task, it appears, is to make “the connections, more of them than he can know or imagine”. There is a kind of dénouement in the concluding chapter, in which a number of things are made plain, and some things not.
But the enduring power of this novel, it seems to me, is that one is left pondering the various elements: reviewing where the Stone of Destiny and Margaret Thatcher fitted in, ‘seeing’ the photograph of Mick McGahy as tragic hero, mentally inhabiting a time when the Ministry of War had only recently turned into the Ministry of Defence. I wept at the resolution of Michael Pendreich’s own love story—I admit it. Any novel worth its salt must make the reader tearful at some point.
It is a tricky thing, though, to combine so many different characters and there was a point where I disengaged slightly. This may be because I am a slightly old-fashioned novel reader. I hanker to identify strongly with one of the situations or characters and in this case I was moved from one to another and I didn’t care about them all equally, even when compelling things were happening to them. I wanted to get back to Michael Pendreich and the photographs and the difficulty of writing the introduction to his father’s work. The novel returns to that, in the end, and the end is worth waiting for, but it takes time.
On first reading, too, I was uneasy with some of the visual aspects of the book. One of the connecting threads is a set of meditations, each of which is an insight into the mind of Jack. These are among the most interesting parts of the whole work—but italics are hard going, and the second-person singular (“When you first set out there were still heavy horses pulling the ploughs but before long they were all but gone . . .”) was such a strong evocation of Grassic Gibbon that it made me uneasy, although the style is also a necessary marker—so strong that it outweighs the necessity for a different typeface. Besides we’re soon into Michael’s attempt to write a preface to his father’s collected works (another new typeface), and then, mysteriously, in part three the page format changes from fully-justified to left-justified. These visual variations were, to me, a distraction.
There is a risk, too, that the social and political background, meticulously etched in as a backdrop to the personal stories, is less appealing to some readers than others. The further away it gets, of course, the more you see it as a ‘story’, rather than just the recent past. Which brings me to the central idea, or what appears to be central, that we should “trust the story”. It’s an insight that comes to Michael (the man who makes the connections) while making a public speech about his father’s work:
“Whatever else we put faith in will, in the end, betray us or we will betray it. But the story never betrays. It twists and turns and sometimes it takes you to terrible places and sometimes it gets lost or appears to abandon you, but if you look hard enough it is still there. It goes on. The story is the only thing we can really, truly know.”
This is persuasive rhetoric, and it is also the experience of reading this novel. But is it true in absolute terms? I’m not convinced we ever “truly know” the story, although the ongoing narrative is what keeps the fascination, what holds the necessary sense of inner meaning, even when that meaning is too profound to put into words—and too simple: it is a supply of pebbles, smoothed by the sea, passed from person to person, each tasted or discarded, or treasured in secret. These stones, these symbols, are part of Jack’s story. They serve to remind us, like Jean Barbour’s tales of Jack the adventurer, that James Robertson is also a poet.
Jean Barbour, a character I wanted more of, occupies the role of story-teller several times, and she is the person who first comes out with the watchwords: “Trust the story”. Two of her ‘folk’ stories work their way into the novel. First, there’s the cautionary tale of the young man who wanted to know what happened at the end of the story—an object lesson in why one should have patience. Second, there’s the story of one of Jack’s adventures (as in bean stalk)—the one where he goes to look over the edge of the world, leaving his own soul as security. These are wonderful pieces of narration, little fragments of the old tradition, gleaming like jewels in the novel at large. They tell a truth, and they tell it beautifully slant. Jean Barbour says she has “always wanted to tell a story with no beginning, no middle and no end”. And when pushed by Mike to explain what this story is—“It’s about us, all of us. It’s the story we’re in.”
And the Land Lay Still is the story James Robertson and his contemporary readers are in. It’s the author’s life story, although he doesn’t appear in person. And yet he is in it, is he not? Isn’t he omni-present, as well as a living witness to the social narrative?
The novel is a powerful piece of work and a cracking (and at times, crackling) read. Its scope is immense, its authorial control assured. Mingling truth and fiction, a time-honoured technique, makes the imaginative elements feel curiously true, especially if you were there, as it were. If you were not there, you could do worse than read this as an introduction to contemporary Scotland—what made us as we are, what continues to shape our future. Many of the characters must be recognizable in other civilizations too: the idea of nationality as a continually changing concept is transferable to any people and any setting. Or you could just read it for the story.
So what does happen at the end? We don’t know yet, because the story hasn’t ended, and if it had a beginning, it is too far back to remember. All we know is we are connected—in one way or another, we make connections. Things fall into place, and we call that process a story. At least we do when those ‘things’ have fallen into the hands of a true artist, someone who captivates, entertains and controls, and still trusts the story, rather than his own version of events. Which describes James Robertson rather well.
January 2, 2022
I set myself a challenge for my last book of 2021, to read this book in four days - 671 pages worth of fairly dense print. Fortunately it is a very enjoyable read, particularly for those of us with an interest in British history and politics, and more specifically Scotland and the history of the devolution and independence movement since the War. Having greatly enjoyed The Testament of Gideon Mack this was no surprise to me.
This is an ambitious and largely successful book, which mixes the personal and the political very effectively. The book is in six parts, interspersed with short italicised fragments that turn out to be the heart of the story. The first three parts follow specific characters, the final three switch focus frequently among a larger cast. The mysterious linking figure is Jack, a veteran of the Burma railway whose experiences cause him to walk out of his family home to lead an itinerant life roaming round the wilder parts of Scotland. There are plenty of other links between the three main parts, and the stories interweave more in the later parts.
This is an ambitious and largely successful book, which mixes the personal and the political very effectively. The book is in six parts, interspersed with short italicised fragments that turn out to be the heart of the story. The first three parts follow specific characters, the final three switch focus frequently among a larger cast. The mysterious linking figure is Jack, a veteran of the Burma railway whose experiences cause him to walk out of his family home to lead an itinerant life roaming round the wilder parts of Scotland. There are plenty of other links between the three main parts, and the stories interweave more in the later parts.
April 10, 2018
This audiobook is over 33 hours, and yet I never considered giving it up. In the beginning, it wasn't easy keeping track of the cast of characters, but I got to know them. This is a portrait of Scotland of the last 5 to 6 decades. This was a politically tumultuous time. Devolution, Thatcherism, the crushing of the miners (the first miners' strikes were in Scotland), Scottish Nationalism, and much more. It is probably helpful if readers have some notion of what these issues are/were, and a general outline of Scottish politics. The political intrigue was the best part of this epic novel, and considering the stories of MacBeth and Mary Queen of Scots, it is clear that Scottish intrigue rivals and sometimes may even top that of the English.
It took me a long time to get through this book because I have not been commuting regularly this month. Between bad weather, and a bought of bronchitis, I haven't had as much time to listen. However, I had no problem picking it up after a break.
Highly recommended for those who are interested in contemporary Scotland, the politics and the people, and going way beyond the misty romantic stories with which outsiders stuff their heads.
It took me a long time to get through this book because I have not been commuting regularly this month. Between bad weather, and a bought of bronchitis, I haven't had as much time to listen. However, I had no problem picking it up after a break.
Highly recommended for those who are interested in contemporary Scotland, the politics and the people, and going way beyond the misty romantic stories with which outsiders stuff their heads.
January 16, 2012
This is the only book I've ever read which felt like a faithful and sympathetic portrait of the Scotland I live in and grew up in. It covers a huge swathe of Scotland's history and geography, and it does so from a fairly clear political point of view. I loved it. I recommend it to everyone. It's long. It's not light and fluffy. It's probably not for die-hard fans of Thatcherism, unless they are prepared to read other points of view. But it is an incredibly successful attempt to bring the vital social, economic and political changes in Scotland in the last 60 years to life with memorable and believable characters.
February 9, 2023
I remember trying to read this novel back in 2015 and failing, I just couldn't get to grips with it. I tried again and just failed to convince myself it was something I needed to read. I don't know why it has received such glowing reviews. I'd love to say I'm just not into the Scottish setting but considering how I devoured Shuggie Bain I would be fooling myself. I'll just settle for the explanation that we can't like everything no matter how good it is.
My three stars is cop out - I can't give more to a book I can't read and to give less would be an undeserved criticism. I am sure those who will love this book will find it.
My three stars is cop out - I can't give more to a book I can't read and to give less would be an undeserved criticism. I am sure those who will love this book will find it.
September 9, 2011
I would have given this book 5 stars but the middle section let it down really badly. First section was excellent and thoroughly enjoyable. Because of this I just had a feeling that struggling through the middle section would be worth it, just to get to the final section. True enough, the final section was excellent too. But it really was a long hard slog to get through the 'peter bond' section. Shame.
January 3, 2024
Review - Re-read November 2023
This is an emotional review and not a rational or intellectual one, but sometimes that's what a book demands.
I've already resigned myself to the fact that I will never be able to find the words to do justice to how I feel about this book, the reactions it raised in me and how much I love it!
However, here's an attempt to capture some of the magic of this wonderful novel and explain why it means so much to me. I'm actually emotional and tearing-up even writing this!
I'm a child of the 70s (just!) and I grew up in a household where the 1979 devolution referendum was discussed often, Winnie Ewing was a well-known local political figure, my parents weaned me on folk festivals and protest songs. I remember the poll-tax being implemented in Scotland and the uproar it caused. My first general election in 1997 saw not a single Conservative seat returned in the whole of Scotland, and it saw the second devolution referendum return a positive result.
This book encapsulates my entire political, social, and cultural experience up until the early 2000s.
It also predates my personal history, showing a Scotland from post WWII.
I learned a lot from this book, and James Roberston's storytelling is impeccable! He reels you in with beautiful prose, a wonderfully interconnected structure and the most relatable and human characters. There is someone for everyone to relate to in this book! All the characters have their flaws, their personal histories and motivations, but they are deep and real and engaging and I loved them all in some little way.
This novel questions the very fabric of storytelling - the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we show others, the stories of a nation or of national identity, the importance of knowing your history and of having the ability to carve out a story for yourself.
It was often poignant reading about the welfare state and the NHS, etc, in the context of our current political and moral climate. It highlighted the ebb and flow of national values.
I almost felt like my identity had been absorbed by this novel. It represented such a lot of my life, of Scotland's identity, what it is to live in and be and feel Scottish - good and bad.
I'll post some quotes as James' words are infinitely more eloquent than mine.
The bottom line - I LOVE this book! I also adored the experience of reading along with fellow Scottish Book Club readers as we all brought different memories and perspectives to the read and sharing reminiscences and stories with other readers seemed like to ideal context in which to enjoy this book. It's a lifetime favourite and I'm sure one I'll read and enjoy again and again.
Original Review
Scotland in a nutshell. Our modern history told through a variety of characters' life stories. Loved it!
This is an emotional review and not a rational or intellectual one, but sometimes that's what a book demands.
I've already resigned myself to the fact that I will never be able to find the words to do justice to how I feel about this book, the reactions it raised in me and how much I love it!
However, here's an attempt to capture some of the magic of this wonderful novel and explain why it means so much to me. I'm actually emotional and tearing-up even writing this!
I'm a child of the 70s (just!) and I grew up in a household where the 1979 devolution referendum was discussed often, Winnie Ewing was a well-known local political figure, my parents weaned me on folk festivals and protest songs. I remember the poll-tax being implemented in Scotland and the uproar it caused. My first general election in 1997 saw not a single Conservative seat returned in the whole of Scotland, and it saw the second devolution referendum return a positive result.
This book encapsulates my entire political, social, and cultural experience up until the early 2000s.
It also predates my personal history, showing a Scotland from post WWII.
I learned a lot from this book, and James Roberston's storytelling is impeccable! He reels you in with beautiful prose, a wonderfully interconnected structure and the most relatable and human characters. There is someone for everyone to relate to in this book! All the characters have their flaws, their personal histories and motivations, but they are deep and real and engaging and I loved them all in some little way.
This novel questions the very fabric of storytelling - the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we show others, the stories of a nation or of national identity, the importance of knowing your history and of having the ability to carve out a story for yourself.
It was often poignant reading about the welfare state and the NHS, etc, in the context of our current political and moral climate. It highlighted the ebb and flow of national values.
I almost felt like my identity had been absorbed by this novel. It represented such a lot of my life, of Scotland's identity, what it is to live in and be and feel Scottish - good and bad.
I'll post some quotes as James' words are infinitely more eloquent than mine.
The bottom line - I LOVE this book! I also adored the experience of reading along with fellow Scottish Book Club readers as we all brought different memories and perspectives to the read and sharing reminiscences and stories with other readers seemed like to ideal context in which to enjoy this book. It's a lifetime favourite and I'm sure one I'll read and enjoy again and again.
Original Review
Scotland in a nutshell. Our modern history told through a variety of characters' life stories. Loved it!
September 13, 2011
To be honest I gave up on this book about half way through. I have lived in the times described and found the depiction of real characters and real events somewhat disturbing. I went to school with a close relative of the man who actually found the Stone of Destiny in Arbroath Abbey, for example.
When I resumed, I hit the narrative and found a solid flow which I read and read and read. A sleepless night allowed me to make progress and find how some of the characters developed and were brought together. I particularly enjoyed the interplay of Scottish politics, not rubbished, but central to the theme. I recall mention of some of the shadowy figures and I personally recall hearing another speak.
Am I alone in wanting more? Where are the pictures? I enjoyed mention of the disruption and the setting up of the free church, I too have a copy of the painting discussed. Now I have finished, I am likely to start this book and on re-reading it will enjoy almost every page.
January 19, 2017
This is epic. And so relevant, reminding us that what this generation believe to be new political thinking actually is not. Not in the slightest.
This is a generational novel, primarily set in Scotland, spanning 60 years. It has a large cast of characters, whose individual stories all weave together. I personally love these types of narratives, but they can get confusing, remembering who is who, but Robertson doesn't let you get lost. I felt so safe with him. I knew that if I read on and trusted him, he would not let me down; and he didn't.
I loved all the different styles of writing Robertson included. It keeps a fresh atmosphere. Often lengthy novels suffer from being too long; they reach a point where the story starts to drag and you feel the author doesn't know how to end. Unfortunately 'And the Land' does suffer from length problems, but not much. Yes it could be a tad shorter, but just a tad. But I never felt that Robertson had lost his way, and he didn't. I really liked the ending. The reader has to be in the right temperament to want to read about all the political stuff, of which there is a lot, but politics is a character in it's own right. Is it necessary? I'm still unsure.
I loved it though, and was immersed in the story. There is just so much in this novel to think about. It is epic.
This is a generational novel, primarily set in Scotland, spanning 60 years. It has a large cast of characters, whose individual stories all weave together. I personally love these types of narratives, but they can get confusing, remembering who is who, but Robertson doesn't let you get lost. I felt so safe with him. I knew that if I read on and trusted him, he would not let me down; and he didn't.
I loved all the different styles of writing Robertson included. It keeps a fresh atmosphere. Often lengthy novels suffer from being too long; they reach a point where the story starts to drag and you feel the author doesn't know how to end. Unfortunately 'And the Land' does suffer from length problems, but not much. Yes it could be a tad shorter, but just a tad. But I never felt that Robertson had lost his way, and he didn't. I really liked the ending. The reader has to be in the right temperament to want to read about all the political stuff, of which there is a lot, but politics is a character in it's own right. Is it necessary? I'm still unsure.
I loved it though, and was immersed in the story. There is just so much in this novel to think about. It is epic.
July 28, 2022
Pildid eri tegelaste elust vahelduvad ja põimuvad ja kõige selle taustal kerib end lahti Šotimaa elu teise maailmasõja ja 2000ndate vahelisel ajal. Võrreldes vanade aegadega (William Wallace või Rob Roy vms) on glamuuri, folkloori ja heroismi kõvasti vähem, aga võimalik, et see tundub nii vaid praegu ja paarisaja aasta pärast on see kõik ühevõrra romantiline iseolemise eest võitlemine ja raskete olude trotsimine. Šotlased ei saanud oma parlamenti 20. sajandi lõpus küll mitte tänu osavusele mõõgavõitluses, vaid pigem poliitiliste siblimiste tulemusena, aga olukorras, kus paljudel sama suurtel ja veel suurematel rahvastel sellist institutsiooni pole, on tegemist siiski mõningase imega.
Üllatusi ikka oli - ajaloolise teadasaamise mõttes. Kui suur roll oli Margaret Thatcheril selles, et toorid kaotasid Šotimaal võimu ja lõhe Inglismaaga suurenes, millised sarnasused on Eesti taasiseseisvumise ja Šotimaa protsesside vahel, milline oli elu kaevanduspiirkondades. See ei tähenda, et tegemist oleks puhtalt ajalooõpikuga (kuigi üks osa seal keskel hakkas sinna poole kiskuma). Tegelased on mitmeplaanilised ja usutavad ja tekst kisub kaasa. Tegelased ei räägi omavahel kuningannainglist, mis annab oma nüansi ja kõlab ägedalt. Gaelicuga õnneks siiski mässama ei pea. Ühesõnaga hea lugemine.
Üllatusi ikka oli - ajaloolise teadasaamise mõttes. Kui suur roll oli Margaret Thatcheril selles, et toorid kaotasid Šotimaal võimu ja lõhe Inglismaaga suurenes, millised sarnasused on Eesti taasiseseisvumise ja Šotimaa protsesside vahel, milline oli elu kaevanduspiirkondades. See ei tähenda, et tegemist oleks puhtalt ajalooõpikuga (kuigi üks osa seal keskel hakkas sinna poole kiskuma). Tegelased on mitmeplaanilised ja usutavad ja tekst kisub kaasa. Tegelased ei räägi omavahel kuningannainglist, mis annab oma nüansi ja kõlab ägedalt. Gaelicuga õnneks siiski mässama ei pea. Ühesõnaga hea lugemine.
December 16, 2019
I fucking did it. I have forced my eyes to look at (most) of the words in this book and what do I have to show for it? Granular knowledge of the course of Scottish nationalism in the second half of the twentieth century and the occasional good line of writing. So it’s not one star but let me be clear: I did not enjoy this book.
March 14, 2015
The narrator, Mike Pendrick has made an unfortunate career choice, taken up his father Angus' profession as a photographer and has been slow to realise that he will never be as good as his father. And this is never a good thing. I first meet him, aged 53 shortly after his father's death as Mike sorts through his father's photographs for a retrospective exhibition for which he has been invited to curate and write the introduction to the catalog – a task which he is finding increasingly difficult. Here in remote northern Scotland, Mike is in his father's hideaway cottage on the Sutherland coast where he discovers a rare photograph of his parents and himself as a young boy. Mike remembers the strange circumstance when the photo was taken by a passing tramp who gave him a pebble. This sets off Mike's memories of the divorce of his parents and his miserable time at prep school where upper class Eddy was his only friend and how he came to love photography through his excursions with his father, often stolen from school time and the annual two weeks in Sutherland with him in the cottage. This story sets up the fascinating pattern of this very satisfying long novel which is held together by the interplay between the characters and their appearances in the photographs alongside the story of Mike discovering not only what his true profession might be but what he is and how he became that person.
Another interplay is between the Scottish tradition of story-telling as Mike's self questioning and his memories of his father are set within the wider social story of the Scots political desire for independence. Central to these stories is the Edinburgh salon of one of his father's lovers, Jean Barbour who in her old age still lives in the run-down, difficult to find flat in an ancient building in a cul-desac just off the Royal Mile. Here at night, artists, performers, musicians and storytellers, old and young, the misfits, ravers and revolutionaries drop in to her open house and drink, talk and play through til dawn. Here are told many kinds of stories and like the boxes of the father's photographs are not in any order which is a situation that Jean enjoys, because she dislikes chronology: 'memories do not order themselves'. These stories widen the scope of the novel to include Scotland itself and the concept of being a Scot. I was enthralled to read of the theft of the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey and its return from its Scots hiding place in 1951 and the referendum of 1979 when devolution was rejected which led to the Labour party losing their traditional Scots seats and allowed the birth of the Thatcher government which was so destructive of Scots concepts of society, she having infamously declared that 'there is no such thing as society'. As I read the novel during the 2014 referendum on Scots independence, this conjunction of events gave me even more pleasure and deepened my responses to it.
The seventies were indeed 'the decade when the world changed' as Mike says and reviewing his father's work leads Mike to find the change in himself that he did not take at the right time when the sexual revolution struck. 'Why are we all so closed up?' one character asks. The huge cast of characters from 1947 to 2008 includes the tramp who took Mike's only family photo and gave pebbles to other characters too, World War II servicemen untreated for the psychological wounds that lay invisibly within them, politicians, CND protesters and even, a MI5 spy whose story is the only one I could have done without. Like the photos, the novel put me as the reader right into the stories; Jean said 'Trust the story' to make sense of the past if you can trust the storyteller and James Robertson certainly won my trust. Photography has been called 'the gift of the moment' and Robertson understands and interprets these moments then goes far beyond them to create this great patch-work quilt of his novel.
February 2015
Another interplay is between the Scottish tradition of story-telling as Mike's self questioning and his memories of his father are set within the wider social story of the Scots political desire for independence. Central to these stories is the Edinburgh salon of one of his father's lovers, Jean Barbour who in her old age still lives in the run-down, difficult to find flat in an ancient building in a cul-desac just off the Royal Mile. Here at night, artists, performers, musicians and storytellers, old and young, the misfits, ravers and revolutionaries drop in to her open house and drink, talk and play through til dawn. Here are told many kinds of stories and like the boxes of the father's photographs are not in any order which is a situation that Jean enjoys, because she dislikes chronology: 'memories do not order themselves'. These stories widen the scope of the novel to include Scotland itself and the concept of being a Scot. I was enthralled to read of the theft of the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey and its return from its Scots hiding place in 1951 and the referendum of 1979 when devolution was rejected which led to the Labour party losing their traditional Scots seats and allowed the birth of the Thatcher government which was so destructive of Scots concepts of society, she having infamously declared that 'there is no such thing as society'. As I read the novel during the 2014 referendum on Scots independence, this conjunction of events gave me even more pleasure and deepened my responses to it.
The seventies were indeed 'the decade when the world changed' as Mike says and reviewing his father's work leads Mike to find the change in himself that he did not take at the right time when the sexual revolution struck. 'Why are we all so closed up?' one character asks. The huge cast of characters from 1947 to 2008 includes the tramp who took Mike's only family photo and gave pebbles to other characters too, World War II servicemen untreated for the psychological wounds that lay invisibly within them, politicians, CND protesters and even, a MI5 spy whose story is the only one I could have done without. Like the photos, the novel put me as the reader right into the stories; Jean said 'Trust the story' to make sense of the past if you can trust the storyteller and James Robertson certainly won my trust. Photography has been called 'the gift of the moment' and Robertson understands and interprets these moments then goes far beyond them to create this great patch-work quilt of his novel.
February 2015
September 11, 2020
Up there with the best books I have ever read. I am sad it is finished and I feel like I could just start again. In particular I loved the prose between the parts. Lyrical and beautiful. The book captures the essence of Scotland and there were so many reference points and ah yes moments. A joy to read and savour.
June 30, 2024
4.5*
"Trust the story."
I'M SO GLAD I DIDN'T GIVE UP ON THIS. One, because it turned out to be more queer than I'd expected, and two, because I'm fully sobbing over the lives of fictional characters, and it's the best kind of sobbing there is.
How the seemingly seperate lives of a few characters managed to seamlessly fit into each other's stories and the wider contemporary history of Scotland was so masterfully done. Everything came full circle while still not being fully finished because is history ever really finished?
A lot happens in this book, and while I did need the audiobook to help finish it (there's so much politics in this, I'm glad (and very sad) that I didn't give up. Trust the story indeed.
"Trust the story."
I'M SO GLAD I DIDN'T GIVE UP ON THIS. One, because it turned out to be more queer than I'd expected, and two, because I'm fully sobbing over the lives of fictional characters, and it's the best kind of sobbing there is.
How the seemingly seperate lives of a few characters managed to seamlessly fit into each other's stories and the wider contemporary history of Scotland was so masterfully done. Everything came full circle while still not being fully finished because is history ever really finished?
A lot happens in this book, and while I did need the audiobook to help finish it (there's so much politics in this, I'm glad (and very sad) that I didn't give up. Trust the story indeed.
July 21, 2025
An incredible book. Reminds you of how important it is to look at the past to understand the present. I found this book truly special in the way it teaches you things while telling you a story with great characters. Truly great writing, thoughtful storytelling and thorough research.
October 4, 2023
I would add this to my list of favourite novels - and what a book it is, all 671 pages! Despite the size it really didn't feel like an effort to read, although there were a few sections in the middle (Bond's story) that became a little dry.
Very faithful Scottish story spanning post WW2 to early 2000s. The characters are so rich and engaging and Robertson's prose is beautiful and at times poetic. An incredibly successful attempt to combine social, political and economic change in the last century. Reminded me a little of 'Our friends in the North' fabulous TV series. Brilliant 👏
Very faithful Scottish story spanning post WW2 to early 2000s. The characters are so rich and engaging and Robertson's prose is beautiful and at times poetic. An incredibly successful attempt to combine social, political and economic change in the last century. Reminded me a little of 'Our friends in the North' fabulous TV series. Brilliant 👏
April 9, 2013
This is a meandering tale that weaves together numerous strands of personal stories with the last fifty years of Scottish history, both political and social. The first character we meet, Mike, is a photographer and the son of a famous (and rather better) photographer, and his story I found interesting. He’s a fairly passive person, almost seeming to be an outsider in his own life sometimes, and surprisingly mature in his early years. When he discovers that he is gay, there is none of the angst or shock or even horror that might be expected in the early seventies. He simply accepts it, and expects everyone else to accept it too. The minor characters pop up at significant moments is his life, or to underscore the political events of the day, and therefore feel fairly contrived. Jean, in particular, seems almost unreal, a semi-mystical figure acting as a catalyst both for Mike’s personal life (such as introducing him to a boyfriend) and also in the political spectrum, the focus for debate. Everyone seemed to gather around Jean, and her legendary, almost mythical, stories.
The second character, Don, is a Mr Everyman, a survivor of the war living a quiet life with his wife, whose sole purpose seems to be to illuminate aspects of the life of Jack, an odd character who survived the Japanese prisoner of war camps physically intact but mentally scarred.
Then we get to Peter (also Jimmy) Bond, Jack's nephew, recruited into the intelligence service to (essentially) spy on the nationalists. Peter is more interesting, perhaps, because we see him at a point in his life where neglectful alcoholism is catching up with him, and he's only barely connected with reality. But there's a macabre humour to it - when he starts having hallucinations, he's relieved to realise that one of them must be a ghost, and therefore there's no need to politely offer a drink.
Then it’s on to Ellen, growing up in a mining village in the fifties. Every time we switch character, I lose heart. This book is long, it’s largely about politics which to be fair has some interest, but not at this length, and frankly it’s unfocused and rambling. Any one part of the book, telling the story of one character in depth, would have made a good book and illuminated a shadowy part of recent history, but trying to do too much makes it feel as though it ought to be a textbook, not a work of fiction. I struggled on, as the story threads became more and more intertwined, or perhaps tangled is a better word for it. All these many characters are somehow mixed up together, in a way that only grandiose fiction can get away with.
This is not a bad book. Rather, it’s over-ambitious, and it commits the cardinal sin of an author who’s done a great deal of meticulous research - he wants to get every last bit of it into the book, every major political event, every well-loved TV program or film, every disaster, every social change. It almost felt as if he had a checklist and was ticking off events. There are at least half a dozen terrific stories in here if the author could have brought his eyes down from the stars and focused instead on just a few of these characters at a time. That way, they would have become memorable, fully-rounded people instead of mere ciphers, stand-ins for this or that aspect of the changing face of Scotland. This is non-fiction with a thin veneer of rambling storytelling. And yes, I get the point about the story never ending, trust the story and all that. Still it would have been nice to feel there actually was a proper, novel-sized story in here, something with a beginning, a middle and an end, rather than a series of vignettes. On the plus side, it’s well written and there’s some interesting detail about the Scottish political scene which I enjoyed learning about. So three stars for effort.
The second character, Don, is a Mr Everyman, a survivor of the war living a quiet life with his wife, whose sole purpose seems to be to illuminate aspects of the life of Jack, an odd character who survived the Japanese prisoner of war camps physically intact but mentally scarred.
Then we get to Peter (also Jimmy) Bond, Jack's nephew, recruited into the intelligence service to (essentially) spy on the nationalists. Peter is more interesting, perhaps, because we see him at a point in his life where neglectful alcoholism is catching up with him, and he's only barely connected with reality. But there's a macabre humour to it - when he starts having hallucinations, he's relieved to realise that one of them must be a ghost, and therefore there's no need to politely offer a drink.
Then it’s on to Ellen, growing up in a mining village in the fifties. Every time we switch character, I lose heart. This book is long, it’s largely about politics which to be fair has some interest, but not at this length, and frankly it’s unfocused and rambling. Any one part of the book, telling the story of one character in depth, would have made a good book and illuminated a shadowy part of recent history, but trying to do too much makes it feel as though it ought to be a textbook, not a work of fiction. I struggled on, as the story threads became more and more intertwined, or perhaps tangled is a better word for it. All these many characters are somehow mixed up together, in a way that only grandiose fiction can get away with.
This is not a bad book. Rather, it’s over-ambitious, and it commits the cardinal sin of an author who’s done a great deal of meticulous research - he wants to get every last bit of it into the book, every major political event, every well-loved TV program or film, every disaster, every social change. It almost felt as if he had a checklist and was ticking off events. There are at least half a dozen terrific stories in here if the author could have brought his eyes down from the stars and focused instead on just a few of these characters at a time. That way, they would have become memorable, fully-rounded people instead of mere ciphers, stand-ins for this or that aspect of the changing face of Scotland. This is non-fiction with a thin veneer of rambling storytelling. And yes, I get the point about the story never ending, trust the story and all that. Still it would have been nice to feel there actually was a proper, novel-sized story in here, something with a beginning, a middle and an end, rather than a series of vignettes. On the plus side, it’s well written and there’s some interesting detail about the Scottish political scene which I enjoyed learning about. So three stars for effort.
March 19, 2017
It’s a sign of a good book that you continue to miss the characters after you’ve finished the last chapter. And that you're sad its all ended, even after the 650th page has been turned.
The Land Lay Still is a sweeping history of post war Scotland that educates, excites and agitates; the peaks and troughs of the independence movement as seen through the eyes of photographers, journalists, spies, the young, the old, the innocent and the criminal.
This is a book of personal stories that fit into a wider narrative of opportunities lost, both for the individuals concerned and Scotland as a whole. A fascinating and well researched overview of the key political moments for the country and the impact they have on a personal and historical level. Robertson can make you feel the impact of war, the cruelty of Thatcherism and at the same time almost feel sorry for a downfallen Tory. Amazingly well structured and thoroughly recommended.
The Land Lay Still is a sweeping history of post war Scotland that educates, excites and agitates; the peaks and troughs of the independence movement as seen through the eyes of photographers, journalists, spies, the young, the old, the innocent and the criminal.
This is a book of personal stories that fit into a wider narrative of opportunities lost, both for the individuals concerned and Scotland as a whole. A fascinating and well researched overview of the key political moments for the country and the impact they have on a personal and historical level. Robertson can make you feel the impact of war, the cruelty of Thatcherism and at the same time almost feel sorry for a downfallen Tory. Amazingly well structured and thoroughly recommended.
July 2, 2014
I love this book - this is the third time I've read it, a necessary act in my mind in the run up to the referendum. I hate to use cliches like great, sweeping and epic, but it is, an engrossing perspective on 50 years of Scottish history seen through the eyes of a wide range of characters all of whom are connected to each other in one way or another through a kind of six degrees of separation.
This is a political book, and an historical one; it is a funny book, with laugh out loud humour, and a tragic one, that examines both the personal failures of its characters and the political failures of the country. It is by no stretch of the imagination a Walter Scott version of modern Scottish history, but one that debunks the myths of what Scotland is like, and what it is like to be Scottish.
Highly recommended.
This is a political book, and an historical one; it is a funny book, with laugh out loud humour, and a tragic one, that examines both the personal failures of its characters and the political failures of the country. It is by no stretch of the imagination a Walter Scott version of modern Scottish history, but one that debunks the myths of what Scotland is like, and what it is like to be Scottish.
Highly recommended.
September 7, 2015
I took a punt on this and it was well worth it. Well constructed and intertwined. You have to wait until the last few pages to see how it all ties together, which was frustrating at points, but it was well worth it.
December 23, 2019
След 10 месеца започнати под книжна форма от почти 700 страници преминали във формата на 33 часа аудиокнига, най-после я завърших тази книга. Леле, каква мъка беше.
Книгата реално не е лоша, стилът на писане на автора е красив и толкова реалистичен, че има части, които си беше живо мъчение за душата ми да ги слушам, но... Ох, тази книга е твърде голяма, прекалено голяма и не трябва да е такава. Политиката, философстването, описанията и размислите на героите можеха да бъдат къде по-малко и да се постигне същият ефект на разказа, защото авторът знае как да пише, за Бога! Наистина не разбрах защо с такъв ентусиазъм измъчва читателите си.
Друг огромен недостатък е тоталната обърканост на главите (предимно в аудиокнигата) - такова мазало е, че губиш нишката, а книгата и без друго е доста оплетена и искрено едва към последните 12 часа започнах да навързвам всички истории и герои и каква може би е целта на автора. В последните два часа всичко си дойде на мястото, но някак си не ми беше приятно 31 часа да се чувствам като идиот и че не разбирам английски (по-скоро шотландски) и че изпускам нещо.
Та, щеше да е прекрасно четиво, ако не беше толкова гигантска тая книга, но важното е, че след 10 месеца я завърших и повече не искам да чувам за книги, посветени на шотландската политическа история или каквато и да е шотландска история. Достатъчно ми беше това за десетилетие напред. :)
Книгата реално не е лоша, стилът на писане на автора е красив и толкова реалистичен, че има части, които си беше живо мъчение за душата ми да ги слушам, но... Ох, тази книга е твърде голяма, прекалено голяма и не трябва да е такава. Политиката, философстването, описанията и размислите на героите можеха да бъдат къде по-малко и да се постигне същият ефект на разказа, защото авторът знае как да пише, за Бога! Наистина не разбрах защо с такъв ентусиазъм измъчва читателите си.
Друг огромен недостатък е тоталната обърканост на главите (предимно в аудиокнигата) - такова мазало е, че губиш нишката, а книгата и без друго е доста оплетена и искрено едва към последните 12 часа започнах да навързвам всички истории и герои и каква може би е целта на автора. В последните два часа всичко си дойде на мястото, но някак си не ми беше приятно 31 часа да се чувствам като идиот и че не разбирам английски (по-скоро шотландски) и че изпускам нещо.
Та, щеше да е прекрасно четиво, ако не беше толкова гигантска тая книга, но важното е, че след 10 месеца я завърших и повече не искам да чувам за книги, посветени на шотландската политическа история или каквато и да е шотландска история. Достатъчно ми беше това за десетилетие напред. :)
November 9, 2021
I read this immense book over the course of a month after visiting Scotland. I deeply wish that I had read it before I visited. I feel I understand modern Scotland much better than I did before.
This epic story largely covers Scottish history from 1947 to 2000, with an emphasis on the political and social upheavals of that time. While the writing is beautiful, the book demands a great deal from its readers. There are many, many characters, intricately interconnected, and they come and go, sometimes in a confusing manner, throughout this very long story. The analysis of the major events and political movements is fascinating, but very involved. It isn’t light reading.
On the other hand, if you have a love for Scotland, or if you hope to know and understand Scotland better, this is almost required reading. This isn’t Braveheart, but I promise you will understand modern Scotland better if you read it.
It is profane at times, violent at times, sexual at times, but none of those define the book. Many of the conversations are written in the Scottish dialect, which makes it interesting and authentic. I give it four stars of five, perhaps unfairly, because I felt that it could/should have been shorter by maybe a hundred pages.
This epic story largely covers Scottish history from 1947 to 2000, with an emphasis on the political and social upheavals of that time. While the writing is beautiful, the book demands a great deal from its readers. There are many, many characters, intricately interconnected, and they come and go, sometimes in a confusing manner, throughout this very long story. The analysis of the major events and political movements is fascinating, but very involved. It isn’t light reading.
On the other hand, if you have a love for Scotland, or if you hope to know and understand Scotland better, this is almost required reading. This isn’t Braveheart, but I promise you will understand modern Scotland better if you read it.
It is profane at times, violent at times, sexual at times, but none of those define the book. Many of the conversations are written in the Scottish dialect, which makes it interesting and authentic. I give it four stars of five, perhaps unfairly, because I felt that it could/should have been shorter by maybe a hundred pages.
May 25, 2024
High praise to the charming independent bookstore in Dunoon, Scotland, for their stellar recommendation of "And the Land Lay Still" by James Robertson.
This novel is a masterful portrayal of post-war Scotland, skillfully weaving diverse personal and political stories into a cohesive and compelling narrative. The way Robertson tells these stories makes them absolute page-turners, holding your attention with their complexity and the sheer quality of the storytelling. I tremendously enjoyed how the stories fit together so interestingly, reflecting the nation's deep empathy and lyrical prose. Truly a masterpiece, both monumental and intimate, this novel deserves the highest accolades for its storytelling.
This novel is a masterful portrayal of post-war Scotland, skillfully weaving diverse personal and political stories into a cohesive and compelling narrative. The way Robertson tells these stories makes them absolute page-turners, holding your attention with their complexity and the sheer quality of the storytelling. I tremendously enjoyed how the stories fit together so interestingly, reflecting the nation's deep empathy and lyrical prose. Truly a masterpiece, both monumental and intimate, this novel deserves the highest accolades for its storytelling.
June 14, 2025
3.5 rounded up
This was a marathon of a book! My favourite kind of story is a multi-timelines-plot-character epic so this was right up my street, plus, it’s about Scotland 🏴
It was one of those rare situations where I felt every character was given ample development and care, even the smaller characters didn’t feel two dimensional. Don and Liz’ storyline was by far my favourite. As with others, the Peter bond chapter in the middle was a total slog and I felt could’ve been shorter. Latterly, there were a few sections where I struggled with just *how* positive the author was about Scottish identity and independence in comparison to how negative he was when depicting unionists and folk against Indy - I felt it lacked nuance and came across a bit condescending. But hey, I support Indy so why not.
The ending was sublime, Don is a gem, and overall it made me love how small this wee country is and how interconnected we all are.
This was a marathon of a book! My favourite kind of story is a multi-timelines-plot-character epic so this was right up my street, plus, it’s about Scotland 🏴
It was one of those rare situations where I felt every character was given ample development and care, even the smaller characters didn’t feel two dimensional. Don and Liz’ storyline was by far my favourite. As with others, the Peter bond chapter in the middle was a total slog and I felt could’ve been shorter. Latterly, there were a few sections where I struggled with just *how* positive the author was about Scottish identity and independence in comparison to how negative he was when depicting unionists and folk against Indy - I felt it lacked nuance and came across a bit condescending. But hey, I support Indy so why not.
The ending was sublime, Don is a gem, and overall it made me love how small this wee country is and how interconnected we all are.
October 4, 2025
A remarkable book that explores Scottish social and political history over 50 plus years from 1950 to late early 2000s through the lives of several interconnected characters.
The book opens with a man having to curate an exhibition of his late father's photo journalism career. He is conflicted in his memories of a father who surpassed his own attempts at photography and was also an absent unfaithful presence.
The books centre is however is the character of Jack , a man who lives an itinerant life wandering the roads of Scotland who we also know is captured in a photo by Angus in an image of the Dounreay nuclear power plant.
What follows is an intricate story of several lives which twists and turns over five decades which cover Scottish nationalism, crime, post war trauma, journalism, gay rights, politics, poverty and the destruction of vutal industry, and human emotional struggles.
A brilliant book, perhaps my book of the year.
The book opens with a man having to curate an exhibition of his late father's photo journalism career. He is conflicted in his memories of a father who surpassed his own attempts at photography and was also an absent unfaithful presence.
The books centre is however is the character of Jack , a man who lives an itinerant life wandering the roads of Scotland who we also know is captured in a photo by Angus in an image of the Dounreay nuclear power plant.
What follows is an intricate story of several lives which twists and turns over five decades which cover Scottish nationalism, crime, post war trauma, journalism, gay rights, politics, poverty and the destruction of vutal industry, and human emotional struggles.
A brilliant book, perhaps my book of the year.
January 20, 2019
This book is shorter than War and Peace, but it covers more than 60 years of Scottish history, starting around 1950. On the other hand, Scotland is smaller than Russia. On the other other hand, Mr Robertson is no Tolstoy, apart that is from the sheer ambition of his work. Notably, he lacks the genius to make his characters and the complexities of their lives leap off the page.
That said, And the Land Lay Still is quite an achievement. In a sense, the central character of the story is Scotland itself, the land that endures, and in James Robertson’s telling, grows into a nation, fit perhaps to take its own place in Europe.
In that sense Mr Robertson is a romantic, but not of the heather-and-haggis variety. He has no illusions about the people who tell his story.
And there are are good solid human stories, many of them, intertwining and crossing one another and making in the end a satisfying narrative — a picture made up of captured moments in many lives, as in the photographic exhibition that opens and closes the book.
That said, And the Land Lay Still is quite an achievement. In a sense, the central character of the story is Scotland itself, the land that endures, and in James Robertson’s telling, grows into a nation, fit perhaps to take its own place in Europe.
In that sense Mr Robertson is a romantic, but not of the heather-and-haggis variety. He has no illusions about the people who tell his story.
And there are are good solid human stories, many of them, intertwining and crossing one another and making in the end a satisfying narrative — a picture made up of captured moments in many lives, as in the photographic exhibition that opens and closes the book.
May 1, 2023
Tolstoyesque in its monumental ambition, this is a Scottish contemporary (last 70 years) politicohistorical novel in a bear to perfect form. Multiple apparently disconnected stories all come together as Scotland advances from postwar north Britain to present day devolved self confidence. Deserves all the awards it has received
November 26, 2023
This book was absolutely brilliant, so many fascinating informative and emotional stories interwoven effortlessly with the backdrop of Scotland through the decades. Still forming all my thoughts but so delighted this was the pick for the Scottish Book Club readalong as I don't think I'd have picked it up otherwise, but its absolutely in the running for my book of the year!
January 14, 2021
Enjoyable and quite engaging, this book covers a range of people and events in Scotland, fictional and real. The only trouble for me was the range of offspring and relationships - too easy to forget who was who.
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