The Blackhouse (2009 in UK/2012 in North America)
By Peter May
Quercus Books, 430 pages.
★★★★
Do you read
mysteries for the thrill, or for their elegant prose? Why not have both? I have
recently discovered/devoured the works of Scottish writer Peter May. The
Blackhouse is the first book in his Isle of Lewis trilogy and it’s a juicy
one. It should also be read first so that you get to know its main character
Fin Macleod.
 |
| Sea stack off the coast of Orkney |
Fin is a conflicted
man. He is approaching the middle of middle age and is still haunted by a
combination of tragedy and bad decisions the befell him: the early death of his
parents; driving away the love of his life, Marsaili (“Marshally”); failing to
prevent a sea stack catastrophe during a guga* roundup; and hastily marrying Mona, a dead
relationship in more ways than one. Three of these events occurred on his
native Lewis, which Fin fled to put distance between himself and his past.
Gray clouds
followed Fin to the University of Glasgow, where he failed to matriculate, and
on to Edinburgh, where his young man’s dreams mutated into a career with the
polis—as Scots spell police–where he has risen in the detective ranks. Fin’s
pretty good at his job, though he finds little joy in it. He’s one of those
people who is more clear about what he doesn’t want than what he does. He sure
as hell doesn’t want anything to do with Lewis.
This means that, of
course, he will end up there. Fin worked on a grisly unsolved case in Edinburgh
and now there’s one with the same MO (modus operandi) on Lewis–in his
wee village of Crobost no less. His superior is having none of Fin’s excuses
not to go; after all, how many native Gaelic speakers are there in a police
force? Just 1.1% of Scots still speak it and–just Fin’s luck–many of them are
on Lewis.
Fin isn’t exactly
welcomed with open arms upon return. The local polis–with the exception of
Detective Sergeant George Gunn–look upon him as a city slicker, their
supervisors are offended that he’s there in the first place, and his old pals
on the island regard him through lenses of suspicion, detachment, resentment, and
barely disguised envy. To make matters worse, Fin once knew the murder victim,
Angus Macritchie. He and just about every other male at the island school was
once bullied by Angus. Adulthood did not improve Angus. Pretty much everyone on
the island is a suspect. Can it get any worse? Yes. Marsaili is married to his
old school mate, Artair, and they are living a quasi-bohemian life that feels
“off” to Fin.
Peter May is a fine
writer with a gift for evocative language that makes you imagine gunmetal gray
clouds, the smell of peat smoke, and the starkness of the landscape. Years ago,
when my wife and I were on the joined islands of Harris and Lewis, she remarked
that much of the scenery looked as if the glaciers had just left the week
before. It put us in mind of how Leon Uris once described Ireland: “a terrible
beauty.” May’s Lewis is one whose very austerity makes it an uncomfortable mix
of creeping modernity and lingering traditionalism, parochialism, and shopworn
values. Fin is haunted by ghosts, but he’s not a godly man. May describes
island religion thusly:
The Church of Scotland. The United Free Church of Scotland. The Free
Church of Scotland (Continuing)–the wee Frees, as the free churches were
universally known. Each one was a division of the one before. Each one a
testimony to the inability of man to agree with man. Each one a rallying point
for hatred and distrust of the other.
 |
| Blackhouse with grass now growing on roof |
As you can infer
from such a passage, Peter May murder mysteries are not just–or even
primarily–about crime-solving. He uses the blackhouse as a metaphor for the tug
of war between the present and the past. Some islanders still reside in
(updated) crofter** cottages that were dubbed blackhouses because they had no
chimneys–a section of the thatched roof was pushed aside so that smoke from the
open-pit fireplace could escape. Much didn’t, hence the ceilings were covered
in soot. Fin’s life is certainly stained with dark patches, but his is not the
only one. The Blackhouse is about the things that never rub off, things
that can be repaired, things that maybe can be repaired, and things that
are irreparably broken.
May tells his tale
in alternating chapters set in the present and the past. He paints a vivid
picture of Fin’s childhood and youth and we get the message that, his protests
notwithstanding, Fin is Lewis and Lewis is Fin. He professes a desire to leave,
but also finds it a joy to converse in Gaelic, can’t shake his abiding
attraction to Marsaili, and is coming to grips with how Lewis has deep hooks in
him.
The Blackhouse is one of the best mysteries I’ve read in
some time. I admired Fin as a flawed central character. The messiness of his
private life and his inner doubts feel much more real than what one gets in
detective novels in which the investigator possesses special insights that
stagger his lessers. Fin often gets things wrong and on occasion he’s slow to
add 2 + 2.
I also admired that
May makes the Isle of Lewis a character in its own right, not through some
hokey veiled personification tactic, but by putting hard people in the midst of
a harsh landscape. I recommend that you read the book before you go to
Google Images to see what Lewis looks like. My guess is that you’ll be
surprised at how well your mental picture matches the real Macleod (as it
were).
The Blackhouse made me hunger to read the remaining books
in the trilogy, so stay tuned. But, again, read this one first. The next two
are continuations of what could cheekily be subtitled The Reeducation of Mr.
Macleod.
Rob Weir
* Guga is the chick
of a species of gannet. They are a delicacy for Western Isles peoples and are
hunted on dangerous sea stacks that are often located miles out to sea. The
guga hunt is likely a remnant from days when protein was scarce.
** A crofter is a
small farmer (5-12 acres) engaging in subsistence mixed agriculture. In
Scotland, many of the crofters were renters and thousands were evicted during
the 18th and 19th century Highland Clearances when their
lairds (lords) decided to graze sheep on croft lands.
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