And the Land Lay Still [Paperback]

James Robertson's And The Land Lay Still couldn't be more evocative of Scotland if it came deep fried with a dram of whisky on the side and a soundtrack of bagpipes. As it is, it's the size of a small caber, but this is not a book you want to toss away. It's wonderful. It's beautiful. It's epic.

The basis for the story is Michael Pendreich who is preparing an exhibition of photographs from taken by his late father, Angus. The focus is on the people rather than the landscape though. Angus had a reputation for taking pictures that are slightly off of the main subject matter - something known as the Angus Angle. Michael had a strained relationship with his father and as he prepares for the exhibition he wonders about his father's life and the subjects of the photographs. As Mike searches for a thematic link between the images, this is a metaphor for the book with a rich cast of believable characters. However, what it is in reality is a celebration of Scotland and a social and political history of Scotland in the post war years, with an on-going focus on national identity. But just like Angus' photographs, Robertson makes these political issues an angle on a series of stories and character studies that intertwine.

It's a terrific achievement. Robertson is a highly gifted story-teller himself and while those searching for a clear plot line might be frustrated, what emerges is one of the most evocative and convincing celebrations of a country that I've had the pleasure of reading. He's clever too. Some characters speak in Scottish dialects, but these are not always the ardent supporters of nationalism. No, that would be too cliche and easy. And yes, his characters do take opposing views, although the over-riding sense is that independence is a good thing. Certainly I was more convinced than I have been by any politician, Scottish or otherwise.

He covers 50 years of history, taking in the post war years, oil, Thatcher, the Argentina world cup, right up to the modern day, and always there are the political issues of devolution, nationalism and independence. And while it's an epic length, the pages fly by.

In addition to the Mike story, there is a plethora of rich characters ranging from an alcoholic ex-intelligence officer, two WW2 veterans, a journalist, amongst many others. The book gets increasingly political as it goes on and the threads of the characters' lives become apparent. It's more of a kaleidoscope of lives than a tightly knit plot line.

It's as breathtakingly beautiful as Scotland but without the rain and the cold. What could be better than that?

James Robertson's novel 'aint small. 60 years of history covering 670 pages, charting a period of great change not only in Scotland, where the book is centred, but across the British Isles and beyond. This isn't a book to whip through quickly, which isn't to say that it's slow or meandering, but with a significant cast of characters often connected through family or circumstance I wished at times that I'd had one of those handy bookmarks that came with my edition of War and Peace with all the characters listed and grouped together by family.

The narrative is rather neatly framed by the curation of a photographic exhibition. Mike Pendreich struggles to write the essay that will accompany his father Angus's retrospective, a collection of photographs charting 50 years of Scottish life. It isn't just about picking the right pictures, but whether the narrative or structure that Mike imposes on the work is appropriate.And so as he takes a retrospective look, so do we. The first section looks at Mike's political education in the radical Edinburgh of the 1970's ('The decade when the world changed. This is how Mike thinks of the 1970s. Maybe this is because it was in those years that he himself changed, came to know who he was. And maybe that's nonsense, because who ever really knows who they are? And does the world, or anybody, ever stop changing?').Robertson creates a fervent atmosphere of music, political discussion and opinion which spills out from pubs like Sandy Bell's and into the houses of magnetic figures like Jean Barbour. Like the centre of the spinning wheel she is the still point around which many of this section's characters revolve (whilst also being an important figure for Mike's father). The smokey discussions of disparate political groupings pull in opposing directions, the search for common ground - so important if a Scottish politics is to take off - a constant battle.

However, this is not a separatist novel. Robertson uses national events, both political and cultural, and shows a Scottish perspective. Markers in the cultural maturity of the nation are a handy way of reflecting the moral reactions of his characters, particularly with regard to sex, with Lady Chatterly's Lover and Psycho two notable examples. This does mean however that the novel can have a slightly clunky journey in places. Well known events act as historical signposts and whilst these might be useful and informative in the early sections of the book they seemed to feel much more clumsy and obvious as the book moved forwards into the era that I was more familiar with. Dialogue all too often was there to impart electoral results, political theory or historical context ("This 1320 club," Croick said."Why 1320 again?" Canterbury asked. Probably he already knew, but maybe not. - and an explanation duly follows). Sometimes he gets it just right though, as when he depicts Scotland's performance at the World Cup in Argentina 1978 (scene of Archie Gemmill's famous goal against the Netherlands) as 'the surreal rehearsal to the political events of 1979' (a failed devolution referendum).

When Mike talks to Jean Barbour about his father's history she is quick to point out the shifting ground he is attempting to build foundations on - "Stories aren't static Mike...They grow, they shrink, they change with the retelling." This fluidity is well used by Robertson in conjunction with "Our ability to look back on the past, our need or desire to make sense of it" ("both a blessing and a curse") Whilst the first few sections of the book focus on specific stories, the rest of the book begins to merge the various characters together, just as the photographs of Angus Pendreich bring their various subjects together in a single space. Running through all this is the almost haunting presence of a tramp-like man, with stones in his pockets, the subject of italicised pages that bookmark each section. His enigmatic presence is mysterious to begin with until we gradually realise who he is and a man who easily passes in and out of people's vision, the kind of man that we all ignore on a daily basis, turns out to have a fascinating personal history, one that gives this huge novel a much-needed humanity.

With all this politics and widescreen narrative it is worth pointing out that the book has a wicked vein of humour running through it too. In fact it is with one of his most overtly political characters that Robertson has the most fun - David Eddlestane 'just an ordinary young man with prospects. And a twist.' That twist isn't so much scandalous as embarrassing - a shoe fetish - but it is wickedly employed to punctuate the career of a fast moving Tory during the ascent of a certain grocer's daughter.

'Margaret Thatcher - she was not desirable but she was to be desired; she was not touchable but she could be worshipped; she was not winnable but she might make you hers with a smile. At last his turn came, He was introduced. She took his hand and leaned in towards him to catch his name. the warmth of her smile as they talked, the earnestness with which she listened, the conviction in her eyes as she expressed a view, were almost enough for him. Then as she moved on he cast his own eyes down and saw her legs, her shoes, and his conversion was complete. It was the nearest he would ever come to a religious experience.'

From the outset I got the feeling that I was reading an important book and how various readers react to this may determine how well they get along with it. I'm certainly glad that I persevered through what is an uneven book as Robertson is a writer more than capable of creating great atmospherics and moments of beautiful prose. Each character is absolutely clear as well, no small achievement with such a lot of them, and a couple of them have the power to stay with you after the book. And The Land Lay Still is the first book, that I have come across, that attempts to look at such an important period of history for Scotland, making it a book sure to garner attention up there and worthy of note to those south of the border and elsewhere.

'And the Land Lay Still' is an epic masterpiece of a novel. Not always easy to read but well worth the time and effort. It is a novel about the social and political change in Scotland - but not JUST about Scotland - over a period of 50 years, a time when the 'Scottish Question' is debated time and time again. Somehow Robertson makes politics interesting and shows how it affects everyone. It is modern history and anyone alive today, (except the very young) will relate to the story as part of 'their' history. I found most of the references regarding politics, society and popular culture to be familiar.

It starts with Michael Pendreich in the process of choosing photographs for an exhibition of his father's work, not an easy task considering the 1000's that Angus Pendreich had taken during his lifetime. He is also planning a book to run alongside the exhibition and is struggling with the introduction. The novel ends with the opening of the exhibition and inbetween we hear the stories of the characters who appear in the photographs, some who directly influence change and others who are affected by it.

I said it is not always easy to read partly due to the stucture which is not linear, much appearing as flashbacks from the various characters. However I think that the structure is signposted near the beginning of the book when Michael visits Jean, an old friend of Angus's. When he suggests chronological order for the photographs she considers it as being interesting but perhaps not really the natural way to construct a narrative 'It's not how we remember our own lives, our own stories, after all. Bits of them come at us in any old order.' I hope that this novel will not be critisized for this structure, yes it can get a bit confusing, and I needed to go back sometimes but once I thought of this as an integral part of the novel, the only way the story could be told then it all clicked into place.

There are also a lot of characters to keep track of throughout the interralated sections of the book, far too many to pick anyone out in particular except for the homeless wanderer. He collects pebbles and sometimes gives them away to people he comes into contact with. He is the character who, directly or indirectly links the whole together, the novel starts with his narrative and it continues at the beginning of each section.

If you enjoyed 'The Testament of Gideon Mack' then I can't see how you could be disappointed with 'And the Land Lay Still', four years in the making and not one of them wasted.