How The Collie Dogs Rounded Up A Story

'Some years ago the late Miss Stewart Mackenzie of Brahan, Ross-shire, informed a friend that in the course of journeys by coach in the late autumn from Brahan to the South during her childhood about the year 1840 she used frequently to see collie dogs making their way north unaccompanied. On inquiring of her parents why these dogs were alone, [she] was informed that these were dogs belonging to drovers who had taken cattle to England and that when the droving was finished the drovers returned by boat to Scotland. To save the trouble and expense of their transport, the dogs were turned loose to find their own way north. It was explained that the dogs followed the route taken on the southward journey being fed at Inns or farms where the drove had 'stanced' and that in the following year when the drovers were again on the way south, they paid for the food given to the dogs...'

          I've more than once found inspiration in footnotes. The one above is taken from 'The Drove Roads of Scotland; by A. R. B. Haldane. I read it years ago - at least ten years ago. Those dogs were always trotting about at the edges of my mind.
          Then they met up with the workhouse apprentices I'd read about thirty years ago. For centuries the apprentice system had put a boy to work for a craftsman. In return for his free labour, he recieved food, board and clothing, and a training in a trade.
          With the industrial revolution, this system was corrupted to

provide cheap labour for mills and factories. Pauper children were 'apprenticed' to the mills, where they were set to work for long, long hours in return for the cheapest food and clothing. They learned no skills, except the operation of machinery. At night they were locked up. They were, in everything but name, slaves. Their 'apprentice papers' bound them to the mill-owner until they came of age.
          What, I thought, if a child escaped from this slavery and, in running away, met up with a couple of collie dogs returning home to Scotland? The collies round him up, and as they provide protection and companionship, and he has nowhere else to go, he decides to walk with them wherever they take him. The dogs are heading west, to their home-croft on Mull, but the boy doesn't know that.
          I found out my copy of Haldane's Drove Roads and consulted it. The drove route from the Isle of Mull to London was the one that seized my imagination. There were longer roads - cattle were, in historic fact, brought from the Outer Hebrides and driven down to London, but I decided not to tax modern readers' credulity.
          My partner Davy, being a Scot of Highland descent, took a more than usual interest in this plotting. "It's too long," he said. "You've got to get them all that way. Why not keep it simple and have the dogs on their way back from the market at Falkirk?"
          I don't always take his advice - it's his constant complaint - but on this occasion, I listened. 'Keep it simple, stupid,' is a good rule of thumb.
          But if the boy was walking from somewhere near Falkirk to Mull, the dates wouldn't work too well for him being an escapee from factory enslavement.
          When I said this, Davy told me what he knew about Scotland's 'bond-women' who wore an odd 17th century costume, and were 'bonded' to work on farms right into the early 20th century. Sometimes boys were bonded too, and it was a pretty harsh system. Davy told me of a boy he'd read of who'd been over-worked, under-fed, and made to sleep in a damp shed with thistles growing through his pillow. He'd escaped his bond by enlisting in the army when WWI broke out - and while everyone around him thought barracks life was harsh and the rations short, the bond-boy had never known such luxury in his life.
          So there's my boy, walking west with the dogs, following the drove road out of English speaking Lowland Scotland, into Gaelic-speaking Highland Scotland. I don't know a word of Gaelic. I don't know much about Scots history - nor, unfortunately, do I know a man who does. Davy says, 'They don't teach English history in Scots schools, and when they taught Scots history, I wasn't listening.' Why does my imagination never give me anything easy to do?
          But at least, thanks to Haldane, I know the route he and the dogs would have taken - and last week, Davy and I were up in Scotland, checking it out. And getting bitten by midgies (Davy) and by cleggs (me.)
          We went to the old ferry crossing on Loch Awe, where the drovers took their cattle across.

 

          This is taken from Taychreggan. The building is a modern hotel, but it's situated where the old droving inn stood. The drovers took their cattle across here, and then climbed the hills beyond, heading for Loch Fyne.

          The modern hotels here are pretty swish and exclusive. They take some finding for one thing. It's not casual passing trade they're relying on. The thronged drovers' inns were about as unlike them as it's possible to be. Dr. Johnson gave them terrible reviews on his equivalent of TripAdvisor. They were, according to him, damp, dirty, flea-ridden and with filthy food. But as the drovers lived on oatmeal mixed with water, milk and blood, their taste was robust.

          From Taychreggan, as Davy was feeling strong, we took the road less travelled, via Glen Nant and Glen Lonan, to the town of Oban. So we came in over the hills, as the drovers would have done.

          The journey was beautiful, but only for drivers of strong nerve. The sheep don't help, as they lie in the road, toasting their little trotters on the hot tarmac, and giving not a spit for tourists in cars. The mountains - ('Hills,' Davy says, 'they're hills.') - the mountains rose above us and leaned over, peering down like giants. It gave me a vivid feeling of how my wee boy would feel, lost in that landscape, and how glad he would be of the dogs' company. The Highlands were more populated then, with many crofting communities. Even so, it would have been no walk through a park.

          Here's Oban.

          The green island in the foreground is Kerrara, which safeguards Oban's harbour.Rising up behind it are the mountains of Mull. It's quite hard to imagine Oban as it would have been at the turn of the 18th-19th century. The whisky distillery - one of the oldest - would have been there, and the castle, obviously. 

          Over on Mull, we visited Grass Point, which is where the cattle and drovers left the island. The cattle were taken by boat over to Kerrara, walked the length of this small island, and then swum across the narrow strait to Oban. We tried to pin-point where this was, and decided that it must have been near where the castle stands. 

          Here's the old ferry house at Grasspoint on Mull - today it's another remote place to stay on holiday. If you like holidays where the only night-life is provided by midgies.

            We ended here, on Iona, so Davy could walk in the footsteps of the great Scottish colourist, Cadell.

 

 

I am entirely with Blott. If he comes round to mine, he can have Republican sanctuary with a warm dry cushion and cream.

         

A Scattering of Authors

          I haven't posted a blog for a couple of weeks.

          Blame the summer.
          You have to rush out and soak up the sun when you can in Britain, so for part of that two weeks, I was away in Devon.
          Last week, I was in Oxfordshire for the 2013 Scattered Authors Society Conference.
          This has been held annually for over ten years now, in a beautiful medieval manor house, in a small English village.
   Scattered Authors from all over Britain gather there, from Monday to Thursday.

          It's a gab-fest, a chance to catch up with friends, an opportunity to learn new workshop techniques to take into school sessions, to pick the brains of other authors about editors and publishers, to drink Pimms in a sunny garden while swallows and swifts dive and soar - and, above all, to talk about writing with other people who really understand what you're talking about and why you love it.

               The gathered authors - nearly thirty of them - ate in the stone-floored undercroft. The food is excellent; the talk almost non-stop.

We met mostly in the lovely solar, with its great chimney-breast, its wooden beams and stone-framed windows. A small private chapel opens off it. Every session begins with a five minute read, where one of the writers reads aloud, usually from a book they're writing. Celia Rees says that every book she's read from at Charney has won a contract!
          Celia, Mary Hoffman and Penny Dolan combined their experience of travelling abroad as writers to give us some tips. Anticipate disaster! - that's their advice. And if it's for work, claim expenses against tax. The discussion afterwards brought up more experiences, and advice.

          Jenny Alexander gave us a wonderful workshop session, using the greater arcana from the tarot cards. She pointed out that these intriguing distillations of dream images can be used for meditation and to inspire stories and poems. Jenny is always inspirational.
          Katherine Roberts led a session bringing us up to date on e-publishing and her adventures in it. I chipped in where I could, with my own experience. Kath provided lots of advice, and emailed us all a list of the sites she'd mentioned, with links.
          Dianne Hofmeyr led a very enjoyable drawing workshop - but Di's triumph was the performance she gave of her book, The Bojabi Tree. She sang, she danced, she acted, and it was a joy - though Julia Jarman almost stole the show with an impromptu and funny impersonation of a tortoise.
          But, as ever, the most vital thing about the Scattered Authors Conference was being there, talking and laughing - there is always almost non-stop laughter at Charney.
          Here's one last toast to all the Scattered Authors - success! 

 

In Conversation with Sanna Lehtonen

          My conversation today is with Dr. Sanna Lehtonen,

'Odin's Voice' by Susan Price

postdoctoral researcher at Tilburg School of Humanities.
          I was working on a blog once, and wanted to add the cover of one of my books. Being too idle to hunt through my files for the jpeg I wanted, I thought I would search on Google instead - and Google brought me '"I'm Glad I Was Designed": Un/doing Gender and Class in Susan Price's 'Odin Trilogy'" by Sanna Lehtonen.
          I was fairly gobsmacked to find that anyone had bothered to do so much thinking about one of my books, and thought I'd get in touch and say thanks. I was also quite curious about Sanna's work, and she agreed to talk a bit about it.

Dr Sana Lehtonen

          Sue: What drew you to your field of study? I think my readers are used to writers talking about how they write a book but I think your point of view would add something new.

           Sanna: Well, my passion for books, I suppose. Especially books that change your life, take you into unknown worlds and make you think in new ways. I learned to read when I was five and have been reading ferociously ever since. Even though I’ve read all kinds of stuff, my preference has always been for works that have fantastic or surreal elements. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’ve always been interested in things that can’t quite be explained and I like to read to be surprised or disturbed. Also in terms of gender, which is my main research interest.
          When I was writing my MA thesis on Rowling’s Harry Potter books ten years ago, I read a lot of research that stated that fantasy is often very conventional and conservative as regards gendered representations.

          Sue: I’ve come across that a lot too!

        Sanna: I thought this to be very strange because my childhood favourites included books such as Astrid Lindgren’s Ronia The Robber’s Daughter and Michael Ende’s Momo that involved young girl heroes that were not, to me, conventional at all. My feeling was that it is namely fantasy that can experiment with gender in ways that are not possible in realist literature.
           I had also heard so many times before that fantasy is not serious literature – Finland has a very strong tradition of realist literature and during the recent years some people have actually been worried about the way in which fantasy is now taking over the world of children’s literature publishing. In my research, I’ve wanted to show that fantasy should be taken seriously. I don’t know whether fantasy itself should be “serious” (I don’t like that word) but it can definitely be meaningful and work in subversive ways.

          Sue: It’s a curious idea, isn’t it, that fantasy isn’t serious? By that definition, Utopia isn’t serious, and any speculative fiction that questions and satirises our present society by contrasting it with a fantasy or invented future society (as Pratchett’s Disc-World novels often do) is merely frivolous with no serious intent at all. It’s a very narrow view.

         But how did you become a researcher?

           Sanna: Ending up as a researcher was partly a coincidence. I always thought that if I ever finish a book, it will be fiction. I never dreamed of becoming a researcher of literature – at some point of my life I did dream of becoming of an archeologist but someone told me then that there are no jobs for archeologists. After this, I actually started my studies at the university as a musicologist and that involved a lot of research training. I liked it but was then realizing that there are not too many jobs for musicologists either and switched my major subject into English language and literature, to be able to find a job as a language teacher, if nothing else. And then ended up working as a piano teacher for a while, before I was lured into writing a doctoral dissertation about gender in children’s fantasy literature.

          Sue: Wow! You’re very talented! – But I’m not really surprised to learn how creative and talented you are, because I think the way you closely examine and interprete a book is creation, rather like an actor's interpretation of a role. You often tell the writer something they didn't know about their own book!

           Sanna: That almost makes me sound like a therapist who digs

deep into the subconscious of books... Although I’m not really such a big fan of psychoanalytical readings. I’d like to think that all readers find things in books that their authors have no idea of. Of course I’m trained to dissect texts, so I tend to close read almost habitually.
           Then again, I did some kind of close reading even before I started my studies because I always went back to my favourite books and found that they were different every time I reread them. I remembered the story but I didn’t remember the details and it often felt like there were things there that surely had not been there the previous time. I always found that very exciting. I suppose I just have to examine things to find out how their magic works and then, to my great delight, realize that I can explain parts of their magic but not everything.
           I very much like the idea of interpretation of a book being another kind of creation. Since I’m a musician, I think I’d go for that analogy rather than acting, though. Interpreting a book might be a bit like playing someone else’s composition. The sheet music and instructions are there to guide me but when I play a piece on my piano, the performance will also be about my interpretation of the music. But there are limits to that interpretation and a lot of formal training is involved, as for literary analysis. It’s still fun!

          Sue: I love that analogy! I’m very happy to think of you re-interpreting my books as if they were sheet music.
 

          Sanna: You’ve written a lot of books and stories that are either retellings or rewritings – how does the process of retelling or rewriting work for you? Are you very conscious about making certain changes to previous texts in your own version, or do you just have the stories in the back of your mind when you start creating your own works?

          Sue: I think it’s a little of both. My book Crack A Story is a collection of retold folk-tales, and every one has a brave, active heroine. Some of them are retold as I found them – more or less – because many folk-tales have courageous female characters who drive the tale. But some of the stories in the collection I deliberately changed to make them about a heroine rather than a hero. The stories worked just as well!

             I’ve retold a lot of folk-tales over the years, and my attitude to retelling them has changed. My first collection The Carpenter and Other Stories I now see as a little stilted. I thought, then, that I had to be ‘true to my sources’ and although I retold the tale in my own words, I told them in rather formal English. I blended versions of tales together, to keep incidents I liked. I’d add an ending from another source, if I liked it better – but I stayed far closer to the tale as I’d found it.

             Then it slowly dawned on me that the source I was being true to was far removed from the original telling. I had found the story in a collection made by a 19^thCentury vicar, or academic folklorist, and the formal style came from them.

             I think I should have realised this sooner, but once it did dawn on me, I started retelling old stories in a far looser, freer way, which I enjoyed much more.

          But thank you, Sanna, for this talk - I really enjoyed it!

          Another of Sanna's essays can be read here: 'If You Thought This Story Sour, Sweeten It With Your Own Telling': Cross-Cultural Intertextuality and a Feminist Poetics of Rewriting in Susan Price's Ghost Dance.

           Biographical information: Sanna Lehtonen is a PhD candidate at the University of Jyväskylä, Finland and  at Macquarie University, Australia, working on her dissertation on invisibility, magic changes in age and girlhood in contemporary British children’s fantasy.

            Contact: sanlehto@jyu.fi

          Ninja Driving Note: I failed to earn a 'good'  for my left-hand reverse last week. I am still merely 'average to good.' Though it was said I'd improved, and the column now has a string of 'Gs' for 'good' on everything else.  I don't know if there's a mark above 'good.'
         This week I'm to do a 'pre-test trial run' - which I confidently expect to fail, so no pressure. Altogether now: 'Only a fool breaks the two-second rule.'

  

Secret Ninja Driving

          Another thing taking up my time these days is taking a

driving course with the Institute of Advanced Motorists.
          Some people I've mentioned this too seem to think I'm studying some kind of secret ninja driving, but it's nothing like that.
          I'm studying the Highway Code again, and the book on Advanced Driving, which was written for drivers of emergency vehicles (so it tells you to concentrate on what's happening around you now, and not to think about 'the incident you're attending'.) I watch these videos by Chris Gilbert, and every Sunday I go out for an 'observed drive' with my mentor, a retired ambulance driver. He gives his time for nothing, and stresses that he is not a driving instructor. I am in complete control of the car at all times, and responsible for it, and he is there only to observe how I drive and offer tips on how I might improve.
          Most of what is taught by the Advanced Drivers (many of whom prefer to call themselves 'Aware Drivers') is also taught to learner drivers by their instructors. It's already known by most drivers, and used by them most of the time, or, at least, some of the time. I own up to the fact that I'm refreshing skills rather than learning anything new - skills that I was taught, but forgot, or never completely mastered, or allowed to become sloppy.
          I mean things like the proper way to hold the gear-stick in order to minimise the chance of going into the wrong gear: the position to take up on the road to allow you the greatest range of vision: the best gear to take at any particular speed or road position, to ease wear and tear on the car and save petrol.
          What I'm learning is to apply this knowledge in a consistent, all-enveloping way - to change gear correctly every single time; to check mirrors immediately on observing every and any hazard, every time; to constantly observe what's developing in the distance, nearby and to the rear of my car.
          It's quite Zen, in as much as it requires you to be 'in the moment' all the time. I can't allow my mind to drift off into plot construction or work on my 'To-Do List.' You can't do things by rote, or out of habit. Each use of the indicator has to be decided as a unique action, and not done automatically: is their any road-user who would benefit from the signal? If not, don't signal.
          Straw on the road? Does that mean horses around the next bend, or a hay-wagon? A woman is pushing an empty push-chair? - Does that mean a toddler on the loose, about to dash out from behind parked cars? In fact, any parked cars have to be carefully observed and thought about as a possible hazard.

        Quick now, what were the last three road-signs you passed? And do they still apply?
          It turns driving into something like three-dimensional, mobile chess. What move is going to be made by that lorry three vehicles ahead? What will the cars near it do as a result?What are you going to do?
         Part of the training is requiring you to give a running commentary as you drive - like Chris Gilbert in those videos. You have to tell your mentor, or examiner, what you're thinking, what you're doing, why you're taking a particular gear. You say, 'Mirror' as you check your mirror, and comment constantly on what drivers around you are doing (or may be planning to do.)
          This may sound simple - I'll admit that I thought it would be a piece of cake until I tried it. It is, in fact, extraordinarily difficult - and I don't think it's just me. You can observe the hazards, know what you're going to do - your hand can already be moving to gear-stick or signal - but somehow, your mouth just cannot frame it into even simple words at the same time.
          But it does concentrate the mind and force you to observe and think about what you're doing. In the four or five weeks since I've been doing the course, I think my driving has improved quite a bit.
          A certain young man possibly escaped at least a trip to hospital because of it. I was proceeding in a westerly direction, driving along a minor urban road with many sharp bends and a 20 speed limit. The young man was walking on the pavement, his back to me, with music plugged into his ears. Without looking, and without any indication whatsoever of his intention, he stepped into the road directly in front of me. I honestly think that the only reason I didn't hit him was because I was practicing my 'Aware Driver' skills, was strictly observing the speed limit and playing driver-chess by considering any and all possibilities. (I had just mentioned him and his head-phones in my driver-commentary.) Because of that, I was able to brake sharply, and do no more harm to the lad than startle him out of his day-dream.
         If this had happened three weeks previously? - I would have hit him. Not because I was a terrible driver then: the IAM assessed me as 'average to good' when I began this course. Not because I habitually drove down that road at high speed - it's not a road that enables high speed.
          I would have hit him because his action in stepping out into the road was so unexpected and careless, and so close to my car, that had I been travelling at a slightly higher speed (which I would have been) and paying just a little less attention (which I would have been) then I would have hit him. And what a horrible, horrible experience that would have been for all concerned.
          So that's me for the next while - talking to myself everywhere I drive, and repeatedly stopping to reverse round left-hand bends in an attempt to achieve the perfect kerb-hugging - but never kerb-mounting - sweep.I'm getting there. I plan to achieve 'good' for my left-hand reverse tomorrow morning.

 

DYING TO FORGET (BOOK # 1 OF THE STATION SERIES)!!

"...With trembling fingers, I reach up and touch the hard and chiseled contours of his chest while Ryan's large and strong hands roam over my entire body, feeling and squeezing everything. I've never been touched like this before and my insides are starting to freak out.

"I want you, Piper," he murmurs into my neck.

My mouth drops open in surprise and even though my brain seems to be telling me to jump and run out of the room, I’m unable to move, stuck firmly to the same place on the mattress. With my nerves on high alert, I glance at the door repeatedly, sure that someone will come bursting through it at any second but the steady thumping of the music downstairs reminds me that no one can hear what is happening in this room. No one cares that Ryan Burke took me, of all people, into a bedroom. That realization hits me suddenly. Oh. My. God. What am I doing here?"

Piper Willow dies the summer after her high school graduation but she doesn’t make it to Heaven or Hell…instead she finds herself in a spiritual terminal called the Station. She’s given only two choices: Return to Earth as the subconscious for a person in need of some outside assistance, or move on and spend an eternity lost in her own sorrow and pain. 

Does Piper have what it takes to save a life - to be the nagging voice inside someone else’s head - or will she fail and end up lost and tormented in limbo...forever?

Author: Trish Marie Dawson  

Title: Dying To Forget(Book #1 of The Station Series) 

Genre: Young Adult>Fantasy>Paranormal

Publication Date: August 2012

Links to Purchase: Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Reviewer: Megan

My Review: 4 out of 5 stars

This will probably be my shortest review... not because I wasn't a fan of the book, but because it's a book that you can easily give spoilers away if you talk too much about it. So, here is what I can tell you - it was a fast, fun read. The concept was interesting and kept me intrigued enough to finish it in one sitting and even convinced me to buy the second book in this series within minutes of finishing.

 The circumstances around Piper's death, at first, was unsettling to me, but the author did a really good job of explaining the spiritual terminal called "The Station".  In fact, it was pretty creative. I liked the main character. I felt for her. The events or difficulties that led to her death were hard. Having personal experience with losing someone (a best friend), I can relate to Piper's devastation over her loss. And as a girl, I can relate to the other things she goes through. 

At one point, I did find myself thinking "this is way too easy... things are just falling into place for her too much." I continued to feel this way the more Piper interacted with others around her.... however, it is the way the first book ends and the second begins (there is a preview of the first chapter of the second book in book 1) that made me realize the story was just beginning for Piper. What might have appeared to be too easy for Piper, just might prove to be the opposite. I enjoyed the story and the authors take on a difficult topic and I am looking forward to reading the second and even the third book (set to be released in July 2013) in this series. 

** Ps. The author's end note also made an impact on me. Like I said, this was a difficult topic and I truly feel like she put an interesting, thought provoking, twist to it and in her message, she makes it clear what her intentions were or were not.