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Flemington
Presents a tragic drama of the period around and following the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745. This work is set in and around Montrose on the east coast of Scotland. It is not, however, a dry historical reconstruction but a story of action and intrigue, in which powerful characters are driven against each other by the political turmoil of their times.
271 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1911
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About the author
Violet Jacob
48 books6 followersViolet Jacob was a Scottish writer, now known especially for her historical novel Flemington (1911) and her poetry, mainly in Scots.
She was born Violet Augusta Mary Frederica Kennedy-Erskine, the daughter of William Henry Kennedy-Erskine and Catherine Jones. The area of Montrose where her family seat of Dun was situated was the setting for much of her fiction. In 1894 she married Arthur Otway Jacob, an Irish Major in the British Army, and accompanied him to India where he was serving. Her book Diaries and Letters from India 1895-1900 is about their stay in the Central Indian town of Mhow. The couple had one son, Harry, born in 1895, who died as a soldier at the battle of the Somme in 1916. Arthur died in 1936, and Violet returned to live at Kirriemuir, in Angus.
In her poetry Violet Jacob was associated with Scots revivalists like Marion Angus, Alexander Gray and Lewis Spence in the Scottish Renaissance, which drew its inspiration from early Scots poets such as Robert Henryson and William Dunbar. The Wild Geese, a poem of longing for home, was set to music as Norlan' Wind and popularised by Angus singer and songmaker, Jim Reid.
She was born Violet Augusta Mary Frederica Kennedy-Erskine, the daughter of William Henry Kennedy-Erskine and Catherine Jones. The area of Montrose where her family seat of Dun was situated was the setting for much of her fiction. In 1894 she married Arthur Otway Jacob, an Irish Major in the British Army, and accompanied him to India where he was serving. Her book Diaries and Letters from India 1895-1900 is about their stay in the Central Indian town of Mhow. The couple had one son, Harry, born in 1895, who died as a soldier at the battle of the Somme in 1916. Arthur died in 1936, and Violet returned to live at Kirriemuir, in Angus.
In her poetry Violet Jacob was associated with Scots revivalists like Marion Angus, Alexander Gray and Lewis Spence in the Scottish Renaissance, which drew its inspiration from early Scots poets such as Robert Henryson and William Dunbar. The Wild Geese, a poem of longing for home, was set to music as Norlan' Wind and popularised by Angus singer and songmaker, Jim Reid.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
February 5, 2017
On the back of this book is a quote from John Buchan, who called it "the best Scots romance since The Master of Ballantrae". If that is even halfway true, I'm going to need to give Stevenson another shot, because this was brilliant.
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Okay, let's talk about Flemington. I read it for my book group - it was the choice of the PhD student in Scottish Literature, and let's just say from the off, we all saw that cover and thought we knew what we were letting ourselves in for. Please read this in the most gleeful voice you can imagine, because we did not, in fact, know what we were letting ourselves in for. There is practically no information on the plot online, which is both a good and bad thing, because I went into this book expecting a Walter Scott knock-off. I was expecting Bonnie Prince Charlie, unintelligible accents, swooning, and all the exposition ever.
What I got - and honestly I cannot stress how delighted I was by this - was gay Jacobite espionage tragedy.
That sounds like it ought to be fluff. It's not fluff! Flemington is a well-written Scots novel in the Walter-Scott-romance tradition, by which I mean it's in love with the landscape of the east coast of Scotland and so am I. But it's also got bits in it like this:
As we say in my book group after two glasses of wine: I think there's maybe some undertones in there. Perhaps I'm making a massive deal out of this, and to be honest, I think I probably am - and it's because this is not what I was expecting. I was promised Robert Louis Stevenson. I was promised Walter Scott, I was expecting hardship and gallantry and determined brotherliness, and someone in a petticoat waiting in the wings. There is no someone in a petticoat in Flemington, unless you count Flemington's own grandmother, whose first introduction goes like this:
That faint "frrrp" you just heard was Walter Scott wilting. Honestly, this thing is an unfairly neglected classic.
The other thing I find quite interesting is that Flemington the character is (by and large) a unionist. And... look, I'm in Edinburgh right now, I've lived here for six years, through the various referenda and the rise of Outlander and what else have you, and it's unusual, or it feels unusual recently, in narratives especially about this period of Scottish history to find a hero who is on the same side as people who are English. This is a thought that I am still trying out from several angles, to see how and where it fits, but I will say that I was at a talk by Professor Tom Devine at the end of last summer (who by the way is both a great speaker and a brilliant question-answerer), and I am seriously wondering about what I think I know about the eighteenth century in this part of the world. It is a difficult thing in some ways, as an English person in Scotland, to talk about - there's a dynamic going on that I still can't quite adequately characterise. So for that reason as well Flemington was not quite what I was expecting. I can't write this paragraph without either sounding wishy-washy or going out on a limb I don't yet want to go out on. So let's leave it dangling, shall we?
The work of Violet Jacob has been unfairly consigned to history. This is the tragedy of Flemington, that a woman could be so ahead of her time in so many ways, could write such a bloody good book with such warmth and character, that she could be a century ahead of her time in both style and content of her writing... and nobody's heard of her. Nobody studies her (except my friend, and now we are on a very localised crusade to reintroduce her to as many people as we can). And to top it off, the book has a cover featuring whoever that guy in the wig is, and who I hold personally responsible for making me believe I was about to read stodge.
My copy is a double bill with a load of Jacob's short stories called Tales from Angus. I think I will work my way through them whenever I am sad. Please read this obscure Scottish book, and join me in spending 250 pages being constantly pleasantly surprised.
-----
Okay, let's talk about Flemington. I read it for my book group - it was the choice of the PhD student in Scottish Literature, and let's just say from the off, we all saw that cover and thought we knew what we were letting ourselves in for. Please read this in the most gleeful voice you can imagine, because we did not, in fact, know what we were letting ourselves in for. There is practically no information on the plot online, which is both a good and bad thing, because I went into this book expecting a Walter Scott knock-off. I was expecting Bonnie Prince Charlie, unintelligible accents, swooning, and all the exposition ever.
What I got - and honestly I cannot stress how delighted I was by this - was gay Jacobite espionage tragedy.
That sounds like it ought to be fluff. It's not fluff! Flemington is a well-written Scots novel in the Walter-Scott-romance tradition, by which I mean it's in love with the landscape of the east coast of Scotland and so am I. But it's also got bits in it like this:
"He [Logie] had gone out last night and landed this fantastic piece of young humanity from the Den, as a man may land a salmon, and he had contemplated him ever since with a kind of fascination. Flemington was so much unlike any young man he had known that the different half shocked him, and though he had told his brother that he liked the fellow, he had done so in spite of one side of himself."
As we say in my book group after two glasses of wine: I think there's maybe some undertones in there. Perhaps I'm making a massive deal out of this, and to be honest, I think I probably am - and it's because this is not what I was expecting. I was promised Robert Louis Stevenson. I was promised Walter Scott, I was expecting hardship and gallantry and determined brotherliness, and someone in a petticoat waiting in the wings. There is no someone in a petticoat in Flemington, unless you count Flemington's own grandmother, whose first introduction goes like this:
"As Madam Flemington entered, she took possession of the room to the exclusion of everything else, and the minister felt as if he had no right to exist. Her eyes, meeting his, reflected the idea."
That faint "frrrp" you just heard was Walter Scott wilting. Honestly, this thing is an unfairly neglected classic.
The other thing I find quite interesting is that Flemington the character is (by and large) a unionist. And... look, I'm in Edinburgh right now, I've lived here for six years, through the various referenda and the rise of Outlander and what else have you, and it's unusual, or it feels unusual recently, in narratives especially about this period of Scottish history to find a hero who is on the same side as people who are English. This is a thought that I am still trying out from several angles, to see how and where it fits, but I will say that I was at a talk by Professor Tom Devine at the end of last summer (who by the way is both a great speaker and a brilliant question-answerer), and I am seriously wondering about what I think I know about the eighteenth century in this part of the world. It is a difficult thing in some ways, as an English person in Scotland, to talk about - there's a dynamic going on that I still can't quite adequately characterise. So for that reason as well Flemington was not quite what I was expecting. I can't write this paragraph without either sounding wishy-washy or going out on a limb I don't yet want to go out on. So let's leave it dangling, shall we?
The work of Violet Jacob has been unfairly consigned to history. This is the tragedy of Flemington, that a woman could be so ahead of her time in so many ways, could write such a bloody good book with such warmth and character, that she could be a century ahead of her time in both style and content of her writing... and nobody's heard of her. Nobody studies her (except my friend, and now we are on a very localised crusade to reintroduce her to as many people as we can). And to top it off, the book has a cover featuring whoever that guy in the wig is, and who I hold personally responsible for making me believe I was about to read stodge.
My copy is a double bill with a load of Jacob's short stories called Tales from Angus. I think I will work my way through them whenever I am sad. Please read this obscure Scottish book, and join me in spending 250 pages being constantly pleasantly surprised.
March 22, 2022
A book about the Jacobite rebellion focussing on a few characters from both sides. A bit of espionage, a bit of tragedy, some humour, some battles, great characters and I really enjoyed it.
September 28, 2023
Unless you are familiar with the historical facts mentioned in this book, you won't get involved into the plot.
February 6, 2017
I've had this particular book on my 'To Read' shelf for quite some time. It had been recommended to me by two different people in my department (and for wildly different reasons, my favourite of which was "Look, if you're looking for fun literature about Jacobites and Cross Stitch didn't quite do it for you in the way you hoped then GET THIS DOWN YOUR NECK!" which, actually, was remarkably accurate). I still held off setting this for book club though. I mean, look at that front cover. Look at that blurb. And yet, against all the odds, this has been (by some amount, too) my most well-received book club choice so far. And I am delighted. Let me try and tell you why it tickled some of my favourite literary-pickles.
First and foremost, Violet Jacob writes wonderful characters. Christian Flemington is written with the most refreshingly acerbic tongue, raised-eyebrow-delivered-comebacks, and a backstory that has just the right amount of sadness without over-egging things. Violet Jacob doesn't want us to feel sorry for Christian Flemington, she wants us to be hiding behind a sofa, eavesdropping on her conversations and tittering nervously. Christian Flemington is a woman with intellect, a woman with emotions and a woman who won't take any shit. She is our exasperated sighs at the ridiculous behaviour exhibited by some of the male characters in this novel.
Speaking of whom; Archie Flemington is not the protagonist I expected. He has far more depth and feeling about him, and I really appreciated that in a novel that could so easily have veered off a dry and dusty spy-story cliff. His relationship with Logie was one of mirroring, empathy, humour and a closeness that took me by surprise. Add in the perfectly timed appearances of Skirling Wattie and his dogs and, well, I was one happy lady.
That being said, Jacob so skilfully balances flashes of humour with some quite painful reflections on human nature, grief and the people who are left behind when a war is over. I laughed more than I thought I would whilst reading this, but I also cried and was left to consider some difficult questions that Jacob poses for her readers (of which, incidentally, there are not nearly so many as there should be). We are given a Scotland here that is fractured and characters that are equally so. This is not a rose-tinted Scotland. It is muddy and barren and often claustrophobic. Loyalty and treachery often go hand-in-hand here and Jacob paints a quietly oppressive political landscape where relationships built on trust are hard to gain but harder to shake off. I found myself rooting for everybody and nobody all at once.
Whilst I wouldn't specifically call this an anti-kailyard novel, I would argue that it is a decidedly more complex, fraught and tragic drama than that of Barrie, Maclaren and co. At a time where kailyard literature was gaining popularity across the UK and elsewhere and painted a picture of a Scotland that was just so, where neighbours were neighbourly, women were 'womanly' (read: quiet and pretty), war and discontent were things that happened Somewhere Else, Flemington is incredibly jarring and refreshing. Jacob grasps you by the shoulders, sits you down and throws 300 pages of intrigue, questions of morality and well-rounded characters at you whilst barely pausing for breath.
I don't often use the phrase 'ahead of his/her time', but Violet Jacob was. Generations ahead. I'm sad that I hadn't so much as heard of her until a few months ago, and I'm sadder still that such wonderful writing has been largely neglected by so many. So, please excuse me whilst I bury myself in every other thing she has ever written and shout about her from the rooftops.
First and foremost, Violet Jacob writes wonderful characters. Christian Flemington is written with the most refreshingly acerbic tongue, raised-eyebrow-delivered-comebacks, and a backstory that has just the right amount of sadness without over-egging things. Violet Jacob doesn't want us to feel sorry for Christian Flemington, she wants us to be hiding behind a sofa, eavesdropping on her conversations and tittering nervously. Christian Flemington is a woman with intellect, a woman with emotions and a woman who won't take any shit. She is our exasperated sighs at the ridiculous behaviour exhibited by some of the male characters in this novel.
Speaking of whom; Archie Flemington is not the protagonist I expected. He has far more depth and feeling about him, and I really appreciated that in a novel that could so easily have veered off a dry and dusty spy-story cliff. His relationship with Logie was one of mirroring, empathy, humour and a closeness that took me by surprise. Add in the perfectly timed appearances of Skirling Wattie and his dogs and, well, I was one happy lady.
That being said, Jacob so skilfully balances flashes of humour with some quite painful reflections on human nature, grief and the people who are left behind when a war is over. I laughed more than I thought I would whilst reading this, but I also cried and was left to consider some difficult questions that Jacob poses for her readers (of which, incidentally, there are not nearly so many as there should be). We are given a Scotland here that is fractured and characters that are equally so. This is not a rose-tinted Scotland. It is muddy and barren and often claustrophobic. Loyalty and treachery often go hand-in-hand here and Jacob paints a quietly oppressive political landscape where relationships built on trust are hard to gain but harder to shake off. I found myself rooting for everybody and nobody all at once.
Whilst I wouldn't specifically call this an anti-kailyard novel, I would argue that it is a decidedly more complex, fraught and tragic drama than that of Barrie, Maclaren and co. At a time where kailyard literature was gaining popularity across the UK and elsewhere and painted a picture of a Scotland that was just so, where neighbours were neighbourly, women were 'womanly' (read: quiet and pretty), war and discontent were things that happened Somewhere Else, Flemington is incredibly jarring and refreshing. Jacob grasps you by the shoulders, sits you down and throws 300 pages of intrigue, questions of morality and well-rounded characters at you whilst barely pausing for breath.
I don't often use the phrase 'ahead of his/her time', but Violet Jacob was. Generations ahead. I'm sad that I hadn't so much as heard of her until a few months ago, and I'm sadder still that such wonderful writing has been largely neglected by so many. So, please excuse me whilst I bury myself in every other thing she has ever written and shout about her from the rooftops.
We outlive trouble in time, Flemington; we outlive it, though we cannot outlive memory. We outlast it - that is a better word. I have outlasted, perhaps outlived. I can turn and look back upon myself as though I were another being. It is only when some chance word or circumstance brings my youth back in detail that I can scarce bear it...Life is made of many things, whether we have lost our all or not, we have to plough on merrily.
February 6, 2017
I approached this book with great caution as someone who loves contemporary Scottish literature I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with kailyard Scottish novels. My lecturer who assigned them all loved them, and I was erring on the side of hate.
Flemington is not a Kailyard Novel. Flemington was honestly not at all what I expected! I came into it expecting old time language, two dimensional depictions of Scotland and of the Jacobite Conflict.
As a girl born and raised in Angus I had a wonderful time recognising a lot of the landscape, and a lot of the characters and scenarios are still quite familiar despite the lapse in time. (I think that everybody should have the privilege of knowing a Christian Flemington as she is glorious and her cutting tone and wit is what I aspire to when I grow old).
I will precursor the next part of the view by stating flatly: I don't much care for political novels. The lovely women in my book group who are more politically minded than I, really enjoyed the political overtones and the Unionist Vs Jacobite conflict. I really enjoyed the relationships.
The main relationship throughout the book is between Flemington and Logie. I cannot state strongly enough how different this relationship was than I initially expected. The homoerotic overtones are almost explicit and I honestly felt, in places, like I was reading an old time RomCom. They met, they had a dramatic moment of realising their affection for one another. Flemington ran away and couldn't complete his spyly duties to betray Logie. Logie found out he was a spy and they had a fight. I kept just expecting them to kiss and make up, and honestly, I adored the whole dramatic dynamic.
There is so much more to this novel than a stuffy cover. Bonus points if you read the Tales from Angus. My personal favourite was that of the The Disgracefulness of Auntie Thompson, which had me laughing out loud throughout.
Basically, to cut a long story short, read it. It's gay, Jacobite spies and scathing old women spurning arsey old men. What's not to love?
Flemington is not a Kailyard Novel. Flemington was honestly not at all what I expected! I came into it expecting old time language, two dimensional depictions of Scotland and of the Jacobite Conflict.
As a girl born and raised in Angus I had a wonderful time recognising a lot of the landscape, and a lot of the characters and scenarios are still quite familiar despite the lapse in time. (I think that everybody should have the privilege of knowing a Christian Flemington as she is glorious and her cutting tone and wit is what I aspire to when I grow old).
I will precursor the next part of the view by stating flatly: I don't much care for political novels. The lovely women in my book group who are more politically minded than I, really enjoyed the political overtones and the Unionist Vs Jacobite conflict. I really enjoyed the relationships.
The main relationship throughout the book is between Flemington and Logie. I cannot state strongly enough how different this relationship was than I initially expected. The homoerotic overtones are almost explicit and I honestly felt, in places, like I was reading an old time RomCom. They met, they had a dramatic moment of realising their affection for one another. Flemington ran away and couldn't complete his spyly duties to betray Logie. Logie found out he was a spy and they had a fight. I kept just expecting them to kiss and make up, and honestly, I adored the whole dramatic dynamic.
There is so much more to this novel than a stuffy cover. Bonus points if you read the Tales from Angus. My personal favourite was that of the The Disgracefulness of Auntie Thompson, which had me laughing out loud throughout.
Basically, to cut a long story short, read it. It's gay, Jacobite spies and scathing old women spurning arsey old men. What's not to love?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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November 23, 2024Might have preferred it if this book was a bit longer, especially in its middle sections. But I suppose in a way it's appropriate that it isn't- one of the messages I took away was the shortness and brutality of life, as well as the beauty of living. It is not quite a grand sweeping historical epic- instead it is the story of a handful of people, driven to make difficult decisions against the backdrop of civil war. A lot of attention is paid to the details of everyday life and characters' smallest thoughts and habits, and from this the impression is given that civil war is at once simply a part of living, to be coped with like any other set of events because the march of life doesn't stop for most people. But at the same time it has torn something apart in Scottish society because of the conflict between duty to the law/ideals/whichever king had a distant claim on your loyalty, and the fundamental duties we owe our family and fellow human beings and indeed ourselves.
I'm not a practised book reviewer so I can't really express myself very well. At times I felt like asking why these characters, and their feelings and motives, were even important in the grander scheme of things. But I feel that I answered my own question. Every human life has some value in its bare essentials and yet as a society we tend to view historical events as general things, skipping over the hundreds of individual tragedies as if they are irrelevant to the greater course of history. Christian Flemington in particular is an interesting study- she initially turns against the exiled Stuarts out of deep indignation, as she feels that both she and her family have been treated like little more than objects who can be disposed of to protect their royal masters without a second thought. She commits herself to the Hanoverians only to find that, at the last, the laws of the land, the laws that are supposed to protect society and therefore humanity on a wider scale, have no room for the individual's private motives and loyalties either. The ideal that, if an individual has rebelled against the Crown, their family and friends should immediately give up any love and loyalty they owe to them without even complaining, is painfully expressed in the stories of Christian, her grandson Flemington, Captain Callendar, the briefly-mentioned widows of Culloden, and many other characters. And yet at the same time, any attempt of these individuals to remain loyal to at least one thing must throw them into conflict with another- James Logie, Ferrier, and many others have sworn loyalty to the Stuart cause and their unswerving commitment to this destabilises society and destroys peace as swiftly and violently as their attack on some soldiers silences Skirling Wattie's music. Skirling Wattie himself is an individual whose intelligence and sense of his own worth have been hampered by class and disability. He goes looking for more knowledge and respect and inadvertently this leads to his downfall (I hesitate to discuss Skirling Wattie as I don't want to give the impression that his is a narrative about the virtues of 'knowing your place'- it is not, and almost every other major character in the book, be they good or bad, upper class or lower, has a similar experience, even Captain Callandar). Individuals are crushed by the demands of society and civil war, but they also do some of the crushing, as we all strive to BE individuals and to be something more than small creatures simply pushed along by time and the passage of history. Maybe Balnillo wins- though he is as fully individual as anyone, he succeeds in keeping his nose clean and has the last 'laugh' (if something so tragic can be called that) when Christian realises too late that she needs him. But he still goes home to a house with no brother and no wife, figuratively empty and meaningless (though in reality the house is full of servants who of course have characters of their own). The Epilogue can probably only be described as 'bittersweet'- at least though, even if individuals ARE crushed by the world in life, at least someone might still remember them after death (hello, the entire stock of Scottish folklore about the Jacobite Risings).
It's difficult for me to express what I felt about this book- as I say, I'm not in the habit of writing reviews so I've probably gone off on a tangent. I cannot say what the author meant to express with this book- written, I note, three years before the outbreak of the First World War (and I have a lot of questions about Violet Jacob's depiction of the brutality of conflict and yet also how war can be so mundane). Her descriptions of Angus shines through (note: though a tale of the Jacobite rising of '45, this, unlike a lot of Jacobite novels, does not have a Highland setting- we are very much in bonnie Angus, with its own local customs and rolling landscapes and its proud burghs, especially Montrose and Brechin, and a rather particular Jacobite tradition of its own). As in a lot of Scots literature, the landscape and its history have meaning- the expectation that her readers will have a level of historical and geographical knowledge, even that gathered from local folklore, is implied, though it is by no means necessary to enjoy the book. I did read Flemington after reading her collection of Scots poems which might have influenced my enjoyment of the novel in this respect. But I also do pity the reader who wanted to catch any of the subtle historical references in this book in an age before google! Even though I caught most of them, I still had to do a quick search to remind myself who Mrs Cockburn was and if Lord Grange was THAT Lady Grange's husband.
AND I'm going to have to end this review very abruptly as the dog needs to go out and I'm behind this morning. But anyway- read Flemington! Perhaps it was just because I didn't understand the Master of Ballantrae very well but I have to disagree with John Buchan's assessment of the novel as being 'the best Scottish romance since the Master of Ballantrae' because I think Flemington's better. This book MEANS something. Sadly I'm not very good at reviewing books so I couldn't for the life of me tell you what, but it does all the same.
(Edit: A couple of other reviewers have characterised Archibald Flemington's feelings for James Logie as 'gay romance'. Which is possible. Certainly I did think a couple of times that his feelings towards Logie are extremely strong, even in the context of the strong language used to describe platonic male relationships in the past. I don't think it's impossible that Flemington's sudden volte-face WAS motivated by romantic love though I couldn't say whether that was the author's intention! But I think that whether Archie's feelings were meant to be platonic or romantic the fundamental aspects of the plot are no different- he refuses to betray this one man, struggles to avoid the inevitable outcome of his choice, and is, in the end crushed. Whether romantic or platonic, Flemington is motivated by love, respect, and loyalty, in his decision not to betray Logie. He is however also motivated by love (for his grandmother), and respect (for his grandmother and for the demands and dignity of his own position as a government agent), and loyalty (to his king and his own principles). He cannot reconcile these and he knows it and so a man who loves life above everything decides to surrender his right to it. I think it would be interesting to analyse the book as a doomed romance, but I don't think it affects the final outcome).
(Another thing- we don't often get novels about the '45 that don't in some way take a side. This one doesn't and there isn't the usual implication that Jacobites are the only true Scots. There are people in this book not causes. That being said, the position of Scotland is interesting. Questions of nationalism and unionism don't really arise much either but both through Jacobitism, and in Whig characters like Christian Flemington who pride themselves on their staunch of the Established government, Scots are trying to make themselves heard on the political stage and they demand respect and compensation for their service. But the Duke of Cumberland's curt dismissal of Christian (in the halls of Holyroodhouse no less) leaves her in no doubt that, so far as the powers that be down in London are concerned, Scotland matters about as much to them as it matters to the French monarchy- which is to say, not much at all. And after all why should it? It's only a little country after all, not important in the grander scheme of things or the greater course of history. Even Charles Edward Stuart would not be satisfied until he crossed the Border. The heroine of Sunset Song, Chris Guthrie, is sometimes described as 'Chris Caledonia'. To me that phrase could equally be applied to Christian Flemington, albeit in a very different way)
(One last thing- I hated one particular sentence where the word 'gorgeous' was used in a way that I didn't feel was appropriate to the situation. Possibly this was because use of the word has changed since the author's day though. Still I had to have at least ONE complaint.
On another point it probably wasn't the author's intention, but dear lord did I think of Killiecrankie when Skirling Wattie's first words to Flemington after the fight at Inchbrayock are "Whaur hae ye been?")
I'm not a practised book reviewer so I can't really express myself very well. At times I felt like asking why these characters, and their feelings and motives, were even important in the grander scheme of things. But I feel that I answered my own question. Every human life has some value in its bare essentials and yet as a society we tend to view historical events as general things, skipping over the hundreds of individual tragedies as if they are irrelevant to the greater course of history. Christian Flemington in particular is an interesting study- she initially turns against the exiled Stuarts out of deep indignation, as she feels that both she and her family have been treated like little more than objects who can be disposed of to protect their royal masters without a second thought. She commits herself to the Hanoverians only to find that, at the last, the laws of the land, the laws that are supposed to protect society and therefore humanity on a wider scale, have no room for the individual's private motives and loyalties either. The ideal that, if an individual has rebelled against the Crown, their family and friends should immediately give up any love and loyalty they owe to them without even complaining, is painfully expressed in the stories of Christian, her grandson Flemington, Captain Callendar, the briefly-mentioned widows of Culloden, and many other characters. And yet at the same time, any attempt of these individuals to remain loyal to at least one thing must throw them into conflict with another- James Logie, Ferrier, and many others have sworn loyalty to the Stuart cause and their unswerving commitment to this destabilises society and destroys peace as swiftly and violently as their attack on some soldiers silences Skirling Wattie's music. Skirling Wattie himself is an individual whose intelligence and sense of his own worth have been hampered by class and disability. He goes looking for more knowledge and respect and inadvertently this leads to his downfall (I hesitate to discuss Skirling Wattie as I don't want to give the impression that his is a narrative about the virtues of 'knowing your place'- it is not, and almost every other major character in the book, be they good or bad, upper class or lower, has a similar experience, even Captain Callandar). Individuals are crushed by the demands of society and civil war, but they also do some of the crushing, as we all strive to BE individuals and to be something more than small creatures simply pushed along by time and the passage of history. Maybe Balnillo wins- though he is as fully individual as anyone, he succeeds in keeping his nose clean and has the last 'laugh' (if something so tragic can be called that) when Christian realises too late that she needs him. But he still goes home to a house with no brother and no wife, figuratively empty and meaningless (though in reality the house is full of servants who of course have characters of their own). The Epilogue can probably only be described as 'bittersweet'- at least though, even if individuals ARE crushed by the world in life, at least someone might still remember them after death (hello, the entire stock of Scottish folklore about the Jacobite Risings).
It's difficult for me to express what I felt about this book- as I say, I'm not in the habit of writing reviews so I've probably gone off on a tangent. I cannot say what the author meant to express with this book- written, I note, three years before the outbreak of the First World War (and I have a lot of questions about Violet Jacob's depiction of the brutality of conflict and yet also how war can be so mundane). Her descriptions of Angus shines through (note: though a tale of the Jacobite rising of '45, this, unlike a lot of Jacobite novels, does not have a Highland setting- we are very much in bonnie Angus, with its own local customs and rolling landscapes and its proud burghs, especially Montrose and Brechin, and a rather particular Jacobite tradition of its own). As in a lot of Scots literature, the landscape and its history have meaning- the expectation that her readers will have a level of historical and geographical knowledge, even that gathered from local folklore, is implied, though it is by no means necessary to enjoy the book. I did read Flemington after reading her collection of Scots poems which might have influenced my enjoyment of the novel in this respect. But I also do pity the reader who wanted to catch any of the subtle historical references in this book in an age before google! Even though I caught most of them, I still had to do a quick search to remind myself who Mrs Cockburn was and if Lord Grange was THAT Lady Grange's husband.
AND I'm going to have to end this review very abruptly as the dog needs to go out and I'm behind this morning. But anyway- read Flemington! Perhaps it was just because I didn't understand the Master of Ballantrae very well but I have to disagree with John Buchan's assessment of the novel as being 'the best Scottish romance since the Master of Ballantrae' because I think Flemington's better. This book MEANS something. Sadly I'm not very good at reviewing books so I couldn't for the life of me tell you what, but it does all the same.
(Edit: A couple of other reviewers have characterised Archibald Flemington's feelings for James Logie as 'gay romance'. Which is possible. Certainly I did think a couple of times that his feelings towards Logie are extremely strong, even in the context of the strong language used to describe platonic male relationships in the past. I don't think it's impossible that Flemington's sudden volte-face WAS motivated by romantic love though I couldn't say whether that was the author's intention! But I think that whether Archie's feelings were meant to be platonic or romantic the fundamental aspects of the plot are no different- he refuses to betray this one man, struggles to avoid the inevitable outcome of his choice, and is, in the end crushed. Whether romantic or platonic, Flemington is motivated by love, respect, and loyalty, in his decision not to betray Logie. He is however also motivated by love (for his grandmother), and respect (for his grandmother and for the demands and dignity of his own position as a government agent), and loyalty (to his king and his own principles). He cannot reconcile these and he knows it and so a man who loves life above everything decides to surrender his right to it. I think it would be interesting to analyse the book as a doomed romance, but I don't think it affects the final outcome).
(Another thing- we don't often get novels about the '45 that don't in some way take a side. This one doesn't and there isn't the usual implication that Jacobites are the only true Scots. There are people in this book not causes. That being said, the position of Scotland is interesting. Questions of nationalism and unionism don't really arise much either but both through Jacobitism, and in Whig characters like Christian Flemington who pride themselves on their staunch of the Established government, Scots are trying to make themselves heard on the political stage and they demand respect and compensation for their service. But the Duke of Cumberland's curt dismissal of Christian (in the halls of Holyroodhouse no less) leaves her in no doubt that, so far as the powers that be down in London are concerned, Scotland matters about as much to them as it matters to the French monarchy- which is to say, not much at all. And after all why should it? It's only a little country after all, not important in the grander scheme of things or the greater course of history. Even Charles Edward Stuart would not be satisfied until he crossed the Border. The heroine of Sunset Song, Chris Guthrie, is sometimes described as 'Chris Caledonia'. To me that phrase could equally be applied to Christian Flemington, albeit in a very different way)
(One last thing- I hated one particular sentence where the word 'gorgeous' was used in a way that I didn't feel was appropriate to the situation. Possibly this was because use of the word has changed since the author's day though. Still I had to have at least ONE complaint.
On another point it probably wasn't the author's intention, but dear lord did I think of Killiecrankie when Skirling Wattie's first words to Flemington after the fight at Inchbrayock are "Whaur hae ye been?")
March 12, 2019
I love this book. So, so much. I had to read it for my university class, and I started while halfway through Walter Scott's Waverley, expecting it to be the same dull, romantic version of the Jacobite rebellion as Scott's writing. I did not touch Waverley again until I finished this book, because this book is a thousand times better. Honestly. I could not put this book down.
For one, it's a beautiful romance, realistic in its portrayals of war and intricate in its portrayal of the human heart and condition, of struggles of loyalty and love. But more than that, it's also very queer. Which is one of the reasons I loved it so much. I was not expecting to find a beautiful gay romance in a book about Jacobites! Of course, it never outright says that it's gay, but you'd have to be blind or bigoted to miss it. They are in love, and it is beautiful and sad and heart-wrenching, and I cried a lot. Just... read this book, alright? You won't regret it.
For one, it's a beautiful romance, realistic in its portrayals of war and intricate in its portrayal of the human heart and condition, of struggles of loyalty and love. But more than that, it's also very queer. Which is one of the reasons I loved it so much. I was not expecting to find a beautiful gay romance in a book about Jacobites! Of course, it never outright says that it's gay, but you'd have to be blind or bigoted to miss it. They are in love, and it is beautiful and sad and heart-wrenching, and I cried a lot. Just... read this book, alright? You won't regret it.
December 30, 2015
Review to follow for this wonderful book.
June 10, 2020
My wife and I started reading this book to each other, and the break I took to finish it once we decided this was not a collective enterprise might have affected my view of the book. The other thing affecting my opinion was a funny review that sold it as a gay romance.
In general, I am torn between defending traditional homosocial interpretations of books and characters—words you learn by reading Arthurian criticism—and more modern ones—is that queer theory? In Flemington, only the latter seems to work. The eponymous character falls in love with James Logie—who though Scottish, not a bare-chested kilt-wearing highlander—there is no other possible explanation.
That is all well and good, but what comes afterwards feels a bit too dramatic, part Greek tragedy, part “The Sorrows of Young Werther”. Grandma disinherits him for betraying the Hanoverian cause, they meet once more in battle—naval mind you—and, he “confesses” his problems—not as much as his feelings—to a third party in his sleep! After Culloden Flemington is ordered to hunt down Logie, but failing to do so voluntarily, is hung.
So yes, there is lots of drama, which is fine, but very little room to build tension. All these events come one after the other with almost no time to breathe. I am sure there is lots of people who would say that gives strength to the story, but not me. I think Flemington would have worked very well as a play, with many soliloquies and the inalienable right of men to faint. I however, would have preferred a longer and slower book. Sure, it would have been great to have a more detailed account of the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745, but more importantly, I think it was necessary to see more of the inner thoughts of Flemington—and Logie—through the campaign.
Maybe a second, quicker read might highlight the dramatic power of the book, and make me forget the lack of world and character building. But I’d rather see the play, or the movie.
In general, I am torn between defending traditional homosocial interpretations of books and characters—words you learn by reading Arthurian criticism—and more modern ones—is that queer theory? In Flemington, only the latter seems to work. The eponymous character falls in love with James Logie—who though Scottish, not a bare-chested kilt-wearing highlander—there is no other possible explanation.
That is all well and good, but what comes afterwards feels a bit too dramatic, part Greek tragedy, part “The Sorrows of Young Werther”. Grandma disinherits him for betraying the Hanoverian cause, they meet once more in battle—naval mind you—and, he “confesses” his problems—not as much as his feelings—to a third party in his sleep! After Culloden Flemington is ordered to hunt down Logie, but failing to do so voluntarily, is hung.
So yes, there is lots of drama, which is fine, but very little room to build tension. All these events come one after the other with almost no time to breathe. I am sure there is lots of people who would say that gives strength to the story, but not me. I think Flemington would have worked very well as a play, with many soliloquies and the inalienable right of men to faint. I however, would have preferred a longer and slower book. Sure, it would have been great to have a more detailed account of the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745, but more importantly, I think it was necessary to see more of the inner thoughts of Flemington—and Logie—through the campaign.
Maybe a second, quicker read might highlight the dramatic power of the book, and make me forget the lack of world and character building. But I’d rather see the play, or the movie.
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