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The Dark Twin
A mystic love story, set in Bronze Age Scotland, full of symbolism, Celtic folklore, the second sight and other dreams and rituals. There are traces of familiar legends or myths, and Marion Campbell brings to her narrative an understanding of the archaeology of the Scottish Highlands.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1973
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About the author
Marion Campbell
29 books4 followersMarion Campbell was born in 1919 and her life was centred on her native Argyllshire, where Kilberry Castle had been the family home for four centuries. Most of her writing concentrated on the theme of Argyll's past and she was well known as a field archaeologist.
As the author of Argyll:The Enduring Heartland she made a major contribution to the history of the area and as a gifted novelist she demonstrated her deep insight into many aspects of Scottish history.
As the author of Argyll:The Enduring Heartland she made a major contribution to the history of the area and as a gifted novelist she demonstrated her deep insight into many aspects of Scottish history.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
December 10, 2014
Long ago, I found this book, quite by chance, on a remainder table in a local bookstore. I had never heard of the book or the author, although apparently, as I learned later, Campbell and her books had some fame at one time -- there had even been some talk of a movie. How The Dark Twin faded after that into such obscurity is a mystery.
The setting is bronze age Scotland, approximately 500 BC. Drost is the son of the priestess Malda, and he was conceived during the spring fertility rituals. He doesn't know who his father is, and at first the question doesn't trouble him. He spends his early childhood with his mother in the "hearth house." There, Malda tends the holy fire and instructs the young girls of the tribe, and it is there that Drost catches glimpses of the feminine mysteries. As a result, when he is thrust into the company of the men later, he has a unique viewpoint on the “sickness” of his people, which has set the men against the women and the old matriarchal religion.
The Men of the Boar believe that the burden of kingship is too great for one man to bear. For this reason, it is traditionally divided between two men:the King, who is the war-leader and ruler, and a “Dark Twin” who acts as his companion and adviser (and who will rule the tribe alone if the King dies before his heir comes of age). This bond, no matter how it may chafe, is unbreakable; the two are joined for life. When Drost is chosen to be the Twin of the young prince Ailill, he is abruptly taken from his peaceful life among the women, and introduced to the harsher male cult and the "New Way." After a long, cruel period of initiation, Drost and Ailill are sent to live in a fort with other teenage boys, as the next step in their journey toward manhood. Life there is freer and wilder ... and more dangerous. In this way the young men of the tribe are expected to forge life-long friendships that strengthen the tribe as a whole. Unfortunately, there is no friendship between Drost and Ailill. Instead, there is an instinctive dislike between the two boys, made worse by Ailill's determination to see Drost not as a companion but as a rival. Gradually, Drost uncovers a history of murder, lust, jealousy, and betrayal involving their two families, which is at the heart of the "sickness" in the tribe.
“This book,” Campbell reveals in an author's note at the end of the novel,” evolved at a time of deep anxiety and physical exhaustion, out of a series of brief waking dreams ... The name ‘Yssa’ came out of the blue; I began to wonder (correctly, as I found later) whether I was dealing with a primitive version of Tristan and Isolde.”
Yet Campbell’s Tristan (she calls him ‘Drost’) doesn’t meet his Yssa until late in the book, their time together is brief, and the love story plays a very small role in the plot. It doesn't really matter. Drost’s own story is more than compelling enough.
Campbell brings this bronze age world vividly to life with simple but evocative prose, reminiscent of Mary Renault's excellent historical novels. Campbell was a respected archeologist, and her knowledge of the period provides a sense of authenticity, though she also draws on myths, legends, and ancient rituals, as well as a great deal of informed extrapolation.
But it is the story that is important, and it does not disappoint. Told in first person viewpoint, we must trust that what Drost tells us is true. Fortunately he apprears to be a reliable narrator and keen observer, as he unravels the riddle of his own begetting, and uncovers the darkest secrets of his tribe. There are other characters brought sharply and dramatically to life: the sly priest Talorc; the bard Felim, who effortlessly manages to keep a foot in both camps; the enigmatic elder priestess known only as the Old One, doomed to a life of wandering; and the noble Melduin, whose unnamed sacrifice (possibly a ritual wounding) brought a tragic end to his love affair with Malda.
While there is no overt magic -- no wizards or fantasy creatures -- the story reflects a world view that sees supernatural forces at work in everything. As Drost's history becomes more and more absorbing, the reader will believe too ... at least while the story lasts.
The setting is bronze age Scotland, approximately 500 BC. Drost is the son of the priestess Malda, and he was conceived during the spring fertility rituals. He doesn't know who his father is, and at first the question doesn't trouble him. He spends his early childhood with his mother in the "hearth house." There, Malda tends the holy fire and instructs the young girls of the tribe, and it is there that Drost catches glimpses of the feminine mysteries. As a result, when he is thrust into the company of the men later, he has a unique viewpoint on the “sickness” of his people, which has set the men against the women and the old matriarchal religion.
The Men of the Boar believe that the burden of kingship is too great for one man to bear. For this reason, it is traditionally divided between two men:the King, who is the war-leader and ruler, and a “Dark Twin” who acts as his companion and adviser (and who will rule the tribe alone if the King dies before his heir comes of age). This bond, no matter how it may chafe, is unbreakable; the two are joined for life. When Drost is chosen to be the Twin of the young prince Ailill, he is abruptly taken from his peaceful life among the women, and introduced to the harsher male cult and the "New Way." After a long, cruel period of initiation, Drost and Ailill are sent to live in a fort with other teenage boys, as the next step in their journey toward manhood. Life there is freer and wilder ... and more dangerous. In this way the young men of the tribe are expected to forge life-long friendships that strengthen the tribe as a whole. Unfortunately, there is no friendship between Drost and Ailill. Instead, there is an instinctive dislike between the two boys, made worse by Ailill's determination to see Drost not as a companion but as a rival. Gradually, Drost uncovers a history of murder, lust, jealousy, and betrayal involving their two families, which is at the heart of the "sickness" in the tribe.
“This book,” Campbell reveals in an author's note at the end of the novel,” evolved at a time of deep anxiety and physical exhaustion, out of a series of brief waking dreams ... The name ‘Yssa’ came out of the blue; I began to wonder (correctly, as I found later) whether I was dealing with a primitive version of Tristan and Isolde.”
Yet Campbell’s Tristan (she calls him ‘Drost’) doesn’t meet his Yssa until late in the book, their time together is brief, and the love story plays a very small role in the plot. It doesn't really matter. Drost’s own story is more than compelling enough.
Campbell brings this bronze age world vividly to life with simple but evocative prose, reminiscent of Mary Renault's excellent historical novels. Campbell was a respected archeologist, and her knowledge of the period provides a sense of authenticity, though she also draws on myths, legends, and ancient rituals, as well as a great deal of informed extrapolation.
But it is the story that is important, and it does not disappoint. Told in first person viewpoint, we must trust that what Drost tells us is true. Fortunately he apprears to be a reliable narrator and keen observer, as he unravels the riddle of his own begetting, and uncovers the darkest secrets of his tribe. There are other characters brought sharply and dramatically to life: the sly priest Talorc; the bard Felim, who effortlessly manages to keep a foot in both camps; the enigmatic elder priestess known only as the Old One, doomed to a life of wandering; and the noble Melduin, whose unnamed sacrifice (possibly a ritual wounding) brought a tragic end to his love affair with Malda.
While there is no overt magic -- no wizards or fantasy creatures -- the story reflects a world view that sees supernatural forces at work in everything. As Drost's history becomes more and more absorbing, the reader will believe too ... at least while the story lasts.
February 16, 2026
3.5/5 stars
How to describe the experience of reading this book?
I found it shelved in the fantasy section of an independent bookstore, and bought it after being drawn in by the art on the cover (an untitled painting by John Duncan), and by part of the description on the back: "Inspired by waking dreams the author had while excavating ancient artefacts in her native Argyll, The Dark Twin is a mythopoeic tale of religious conflict, incandescent romance, and life amongst the Celtic tribes of Iron Age Scotland." Having finished it now, I daresay it was misshelved there. Though I don't know where it would rightly be shelved...an inability to classify what type of book it is, is perhaps fundamental to the experience of it.
It was a hallucinatory read. Everything-everything-is told by allusion, innuendos, and hints. I have spent the last two hours since I finished it leafing back through it, annotating margins in a frenzy, as though it were assigned reading for an AP English class, and I a poor student fated to take an essay exam on its Meaning. And I'm still left with many, MANY questions*. In a world of quick-scrolling sound-bite satisfaction, having to pay close attention (and needing to re-read, and even re-read again) was rewarding in the same way exercising til you're sore is rewarding. It worked muscles that I'm not often called on to use in my day-to-day life.
Because, to be clear, the lack of plain, straightforward plot made it a very challenging read. It wasn't something I picked up expecting an easy escape from reality. Yet an escape from reality it still ended up. I'd sit down with it, then find somehow hours had passed and I hadn't marked the passage of time in the slightest.
It was also poetic and beautifully written. Take an excerpt from the last page: "The sun is going down, cool night is coming, the young moon is watching me yonder; the birds rest on the sea and the cliffs are quiet. The flowers are sleeping, the sea is milky and still; the mist turns to fire as the sunset kisses it, and it draws nearer and nearer, making a soft bank of feathers below the cliff-edge." Passages like this made the difficult journey worthwhile.
So, to sum up in a few words: hallucinatory, challenging, poetic, and rewarding. Drost and his friends and family and enemies will stay with me for quite some time, I think.
*My Questions (hidden for spoilers):
How to describe the experience of reading this book?
I found it shelved in the fantasy section of an independent bookstore, and bought it after being drawn in by the art on the cover (an untitled painting by John Duncan), and by part of the description on the back: "Inspired by waking dreams the author had while excavating ancient artefacts in her native Argyll, The Dark Twin is a mythopoeic tale of religious conflict, incandescent romance, and life amongst the Celtic tribes of Iron Age Scotland." Having finished it now, I daresay it was misshelved there. Though I don't know where it would rightly be shelved...an inability to classify what type of book it is, is perhaps fundamental to the experience of it.
It was a hallucinatory read. Everything-everything-is told by allusion, innuendos, and hints. I have spent the last two hours since I finished it leafing back through it, annotating margins in a frenzy, as though it were assigned reading for an AP English class, and I a poor student fated to take an essay exam on its Meaning. And I'm still left with many, MANY questions*. In a world of quick-scrolling sound-bite satisfaction, having to pay close attention (and needing to re-read, and even re-read again) was rewarding in the same way exercising til you're sore is rewarding. It worked muscles that I'm not often called on to use in my day-to-day life.
Because, to be clear, the lack of plain, straightforward plot made it a very challenging read. It wasn't something I picked up expecting an easy escape from reality. Yet an escape from reality it still ended up. I'd sit down with it, then find somehow hours had passed and I hadn't marked the passage of time in the slightest.
It was also poetic and beautifully written. Take an excerpt from the last page: "The sun is going down, cool night is coming, the young moon is watching me yonder; the birds rest on the sea and the cliffs are quiet. The flowers are sleeping, the sea is milky and still; the mist turns to fire as the sunset kisses it, and it draws nearer and nearer, making a soft bank of feathers below the cliff-edge." Passages like this made the difficult journey worthwhile.
So, to sum up in a few words: hallucinatory, challenging, poetic, and rewarding. Drost and his friends and family and enemies will stay with me for quite some time, I think.
*My Questions (hidden for spoilers):
December 19, 2017
I read this book years ago, finding an ex-library secondhand copy for sale and realising after reading it that I may know Marion Campbell from the period she was working to help build up the original Castle Head Field Centre at Grange-over-Sands in Cumbria. I wonder if she was the same person? It's a long time ago......
It is a really good read. Some of the things in the book have stayed with me for years and I am aiming to come back to it. It sits on my favourite books shelf waiting for me to get back to it.
It is a really good read. Some of the things in the book have stayed with me for years and I am aiming to come back to it. It sits on my favourite books shelf waiting for me to get back to it.
August 27, 2017
Marion Campbell was a cousin of mine, and I'm just fascinated by her. Archaeologist, historian, writer . . . I really enjoyed the later parts of the book; can't say much without giving it away. But the way she alludes to the creative process, through songmaking, but also relevant to fiction-writing, was one of my favourite aspects of the book as well.
February 9, 2013
Hailed, on the front cover, as ‘An adult fantasy in the great Tolkien tradition’, this novel disappointed on a number of levels. So much so, that I couldn’t be bothered to get past page 67 of 249 pages. It was clearly much applauded at the time of publication in the 1970s; described variously as ‘beautiful’, ‘fascinating’ and ‘a harsh elemental poetry’, by reviewers in the major newspapers. Either they read a different book, or I failed to find the elements they drew from the pages.
The language is ‘beautiful’ and there are undoubtedly ‘fascinating’ elements in the tale and some of the events are harsh and poetically presented. But the parts do not seem to add up to a ‘whole’. In fact, I found the narrative tedious, the attempt to weave a mystery out of the incomprehensible lacking in enough intrigue to make me want to read on. Fantasy, of this type, is traditionally a depiction of life in an invented or imagined landscape and is generally built on ancient and well understood themes. Tolkien, with whom this author was compared, dealt quite obviously with the battle between good and evil and set his tale in a land similar to our own Earth, peopled by humans, hobbits, elves and dwarves along with all those mystical and fabulous creatures he borrowed from the myths of Northern Europe. But I was at a loss to understand where this tale was leading and what themes drove it. Had there been some indication that I was, at least, being taken somewhere of interest, I would probably have stayed with it. But I felt I was in an endless exposition describing the arcane customs and rites of some civilisation I found difficult to comprehend and that I was being led into a maze with little hope of discovering the whys and wherefores before being abandoned without any solution.
The nature of the story, such as it is, told in the form of a narrative, initially with dialogue only sparsely used to relieve the monotony of the first person narrator’s description of his life of harsh instruction, quickly began to bore me. I didn’t need endless hints about the corruption, bullying and deception of the ruling individuals; so much was clear. I would have liked a little more indication of the motivations that drove the protagonists, beyond the evident ambition of the priesthood. I would have liked a spark of rebellion or, at least, questioning, from the two young boys who were being raised for positions of rule; something to make them interesting. The ‘gift’ of foretelling and farseeing seemed small reward for the level of deprivation visited on the victims.
In short, I was waiting for something to ‘happen’. I think the main problem with the narrative was that I was ‘told’ so much and ‘shown’ so little, that I felt ever the observer, the voyeur, and never a participant, never even an involved bystander. Only the singer, Felim, brought any contrast to the otherwise unmitigated misery of the tale. A touch of lightness, some hope, an indication of something better to come, might have kept me turning the pages. But, in the end, I felt unwilling to spend any more of my precious time on this depressing story that seemed to be going nowhere.
No doubt fans of the author, of which there may well be many, will castigate me for a fool and a dullard for failing to recognise the magic they have found. But I can judge only on my own terms and, as a reading experience, I found this disappointing, dull and lifeless. Sorry, but there you are.
The language is ‘beautiful’ and there are undoubtedly ‘fascinating’ elements in the tale and some of the events are harsh and poetically presented. But the parts do not seem to add up to a ‘whole’. In fact, I found the narrative tedious, the attempt to weave a mystery out of the incomprehensible lacking in enough intrigue to make me want to read on. Fantasy, of this type, is traditionally a depiction of life in an invented or imagined landscape and is generally built on ancient and well understood themes. Tolkien, with whom this author was compared, dealt quite obviously with the battle between good and evil and set his tale in a land similar to our own Earth, peopled by humans, hobbits, elves and dwarves along with all those mystical and fabulous creatures he borrowed from the myths of Northern Europe. But I was at a loss to understand where this tale was leading and what themes drove it. Had there been some indication that I was, at least, being taken somewhere of interest, I would probably have stayed with it. But I felt I was in an endless exposition describing the arcane customs and rites of some civilisation I found difficult to comprehend and that I was being led into a maze with little hope of discovering the whys and wherefores before being abandoned without any solution.
The nature of the story, such as it is, told in the form of a narrative, initially with dialogue only sparsely used to relieve the monotony of the first person narrator’s description of his life of harsh instruction, quickly began to bore me. I didn’t need endless hints about the corruption, bullying and deception of the ruling individuals; so much was clear. I would have liked a little more indication of the motivations that drove the protagonists, beyond the evident ambition of the priesthood. I would have liked a spark of rebellion or, at least, questioning, from the two young boys who were being raised for positions of rule; something to make them interesting. The ‘gift’ of foretelling and farseeing seemed small reward for the level of deprivation visited on the victims.
In short, I was waiting for something to ‘happen’. I think the main problem with the narrative was that I was ‘told’ so much and ‘shown’ so little, that I felt ever the observer, the voyeur, and never a participant, never even an involved bystander. Only the singer, Felim, brought any contrast to the otherwise unmitigated misery of the tale. A touch of lightness, some hope, an indication of something better to come, might have kept me turning the pages. But, in the end, I felt unwilling to spend any more of my precious time on this depressing story that seemed to be going nowhere.
No doubt fans of the author, of which there may well be many, will castigate me for a fool and a dullard for failing to recognise the magic they have found. But I can judge only on my own terms and, as a reading experience, I found this disappointing, dull and lifeless. Sorry, but there you are.
September 18, 2011
I picked up this book at the Kilmartin House Museum on the West Coast of Scotland. The author, Marion Campbell, lived in the area and worked there as an archaeologist. The book, originally published in 1973, is set in this part of the world in around 500 BC and draws on her knowledge of prehistoric Celtic life as well as her intimate experience with that landscape. She has a feminist take on the spirituality and religious practices of these people that predates such fiction books as The Mists of Avalon and some of the more academic works on feminist spirituality such as The Chalice and the Blade. I'd recommend her writing to anyone with an interest in feminist and earth based spirituality.
January 13, 2022
Read this some years ago but as I recall a definate 5 stars and would read again. Beautifull YA or adult writing, a believable tribe and story and handling of ancients in Argyll with interesting tidbits about female-only rule among the east coast Pictish/Celts and the hardships of Celtic tribal boys coming of age in the west. Earning their cloaks in a time of magic lull from the warring factions but fraught with dark magic dangers and tests of personality and bravery amongst themselves. Excellent.
January 2, 2025
Convolutedly tedious
December 11, 2010
A chance read, originally published in 1973 and picked up for a couple of quid from Postscript Books' remaindered book catalogue because it sounded interesting. Which it is, a mesmerising and hallucinatory story which is filled with fragments of myth, ritual, second sight, and religious belief, both Celtic and Greek. It's set in some unspecified part of Scotland around 500BC. It's perhaps deliberately confusing; she spells nothing out and leaves the reader to decide what various occurrences and scraps of poetry or ritual mean, if anything.
A compelling and intriguing book; I'd read more of her work, but it almost all seems to be out of print or unavailable.
A compelling and intriguing book; I'd read more of her work, but it almost all seems to be out of print or unavailable.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews