The Outer Hebrides of Scotland epitomize the evocative beauty and remoteness of island life. The most dramatic of all the Hebrides is Harris, a tiny island formed from the oldest rocks on earth, a breathtaking landscape of soaring mountains, wild lunarlike moors, and vast Caribbean-hued beaches. This is where local crofters weave the legendary Harris Tweed -- reflecting the strength, durability, and integrity of life there. In Seasons on Harris , David Yeadon, "one of our best travel writers" ( Bloomsbury Review ) and intrepid chronicler of the "world's most remote regions" ( New York Times ), captures, through elegant words and line drawings, life on Harris -- the people, their folkways and humor, and their centuries-old Norse and Celtic traditions of crofting and fishing. Here Gaelic is still spoken in its purest form; music and poetry ceilidh evenings flourish in the local pubs; remnants of ancient "black houses" huddle near five-thousand-year-old stone circles; Sabbath Sundays are observed with Calvinistic strictness; and folklore, in the form of mythical creatures and "second sight" abilities, is still both tantalizing and tangible. Yeadon also journeys to Barra, the southernmost of the Hebrides, to the Shiant Islands with author Adam Nicolson, and to the fabled St. Kilda, the most remote of all the Scottish islands -- fifty miles out in the Atlantic, wreathed in legend and mystery. Harris, while beautiful and beguiling, is also a symbol of the threats to traditional island life everywhere. Through Yeadon's unique book we come to care about these proud islanders, their challenges, and, in particular, the future of their beloved tweed.
Enjoyable book. It took a while to get into it but worth the time spent. The author covers many facets of life on the Outer Hebrides, in particular the Isle of Lewis. My favorite bits were about Harris tweed and folklore, but nature, farming, art and sculpture, local politics, religion and drinking places are among other parts of Harris life covered. If you don’t like your travel books with the author (and wife) front and center Yeadon’s style might annoy you but I found I could overlook that after a while.
The Outer Hebrides of Scotland are fierce isles, battered by Atlantic gales and raging seas. The area’s bedrock, however, is the oldest in Europe, probably about three billion years old. And the beaches can be sublime, white sands against dazzling blues. Once controlled by the Norse and then the Scots, the isles were taken by the United Kingdom after the Battle of Culloden, which meant the displacement of residents as the British government thought it best to remove as many rebels as possible. So, it’s an archipelago of contrariness and this is where the author, David Yeadon, decided to base himself for a while in order to learn more about the mysteries of the area.
The focus is on Harris, which is really part of Lewis and Harris, the most populated portion of the Hebrides. Harris itself is a bit stolid in its stillness, the little sibling to the larger Lewis. The islanders are proud of their heritage and most importantly, of their Harris Tweed, considered the best in the world. As the author starts his rambles around the isles, he visits old crofters, some of whom still make the tweed the old way using original dyes from plants. He discovers the hearty fare of the locals, which makes the reader salivate upon reading the descriptions of the dishes.
When he and his wife decide to investigate further, they arrive at Barra, an island that is in contrast to the others because of its Roman Catholicism. Shops are open on Sundays, people laugh and talk loudly, and the stricter Scottish Presbyterian habits are non-existent. Barra is considered the “tail” of the Outer Hebrides…a bit off kilter. It’s also full of cozy hospitality and the chapter on this odd place made me want to pencil it in for a future visit. It’s also on Barra that they see how the English overlords sent away many of the original inhabitants to Canada and Australia and replaced them with sheep. It’s a lovely section of the book.
There are touchstones of magic throughout the book, thanks to Yeadon’s writing and his willingness to learn about all the different places. He even devotes one page to the various spirits and creatures who inhabit the nightmares of the local residents. The fridach are small, spiteful spirits who brought disease to the islands. And the gigelorum is an animal so small it can make its nest in a mite’s ear! One also learns about the occasional hurricane force winds and tidal surges that bring destruction but then leave almost as quickly as they arrived.
Silence descended like a shroud. But more silky gossamer than funereal. It was that scintillating silence of benevolent solitude…
I enjoyed reading the book and making previously unknown discoveries about the people and the land. It’s a wonderful Armchair Read, where one can sit in a sunny spot and read about isles that have seen so much and continue to endure.
It's always problematic writing about a place when you don't hail from that place yourself. You can only ever see the place as an outsider, but then sometimes that means you can observe a beauty that natives might take for granted. This book is a mixed bag - Yeadon undoubtedly appreciates the wild splendour of Harris and the ongoing hardships of life there, but when it's when discussing the people that the book stumbles. The way he writes local accents when quoting them is really quite patronising, especially when he doesn't change the way he writes to accommodate his Yorkshire accent, implying he is the one that speaks English properly.
I used to live on Harris, I worked at a hotel for 9 months through the bleakness of an Outer Hebridean winter, and that was my primary reason for picking up this book, I wanted to see what writers had to say about the place in which I lived. But Yeadon didn't live on Harris, he holidayed. He did no work (unless you count leisurely writing this book), he simply spent time wandering and socialising with the locals. I'm a firm believer in not really living in a place unless you've worked there.
Yeadon himself says in the closing paragraphs that he considers his book a contribution to the human experience rather than any sort of social commentary or concise contemporary history of Harris, but one can't help but get that 'incomer amused by the primitive natives' feeling when reading this book. I wish there was more literature out there by people who had really lived island life, rather than wealthy visitors coming to gaze at crofters the way one might gaze at animals in the zoo.
There are some good tidbits of history in this book, and some wonderful descriptions of the scenery, which makes it worth reading. But it is a bit of a slog, hence why I failed to finish the book when I started it in 2016. I hope in the future there will be some more informed pieces of travel literature on the islands, written by people who understand the true nature of the islands, rather than second home buyers or retirees on long holidays.
This is an enjoyable read. The premise is that travel writer David Yealdon has chosen to live on Harris for a year in order to understand and experience the place, meet the people and ultimately write about his experiences.
Published in 2006/2007 the book already feels a little out of date. But then again, that’s 20 years ago.
To me the book swings too much between warm and engaging and a little distant and perhaps even condescending. There are elements of a needless judgement that adds little to the narrative. Examples such as the local singer at the Clisham Keel emphasised repeatedly as ‘plain, rather sad face, long brown hair unstyled and badly cut’, the unhelpful ‘rather stern lady proprietor’ of the third house he rents. Examples of needless outside judgement.
How do you define‘living’ in a place? Did Yealdon do this? A year is a long time but he clearly spent a large chunk of the Summer away on family business and then moved house for a few months. It also feels that in his attempts to cover all facets of life on Harris (and in some ways Lewis) he focussed too much on the headlines and the tourist traps. There maybe isn’t enough about real life for the inhabitants? Things like local schooling, politics etc. Too often the book seems to focus more on the what are termed ‘incomers’, often from England trying a new way of life. This is absolutely part of Harris but it feels it’s perhaps at the expense of other subjects? Is a community of artists or a jolly to the Shiant Islands with an absentee aristocratic landlord the ‘real’ Harris? I am not a Hearach, so maybe it does.
Despite the above, the book is a good read. It is the warmth of the Hearach that shines through.
Travel writer David Yeadon and his wife came to Harris in 2005 (I think) to live for a year, to write about life on the island, and to really immerse themselves in that way of living. This is the result, and it's a lovely book that sings with love of the place and the people at a time just before the Harris tweed industry grew legs and long before the Harris gin distillery was established. The tourists came too, but in small numbers, and the food of the islands which is now legendary was in the very early stages of reaching culinary status.
This is a travelogue with social comment and history, I think is the best way to describe it. It's lyrically written when it comes to describing the landscape, and gives you a real sense of the beauty and the trials of the climate and the geography. It's not a place I know well, I've only visited it once about 8 years ago, but it's a place I really want to go back to now. It's a world apart in some senses, as described by Yeadon, but one of the things I kept wondering over and over, was how much of that he had romanticised - just as undoubtedly he romanticised some of the characters, so that you at times felt he was an actor in Local Hero!
This aside, there's history aplenty, a few legends, and there's climate - lots and lots of climate. As I said, it made me want to go there, and what bigger complement can you pay a book of this nature? Excellent read, and for me also an excellent research source.
After I read David Yeadon’s book on living in an Italian village for a year (Seasons in Basilicata), I looked for other books and found Seasons On Harris. This is a wonderful time capsule of a book. Like the ebb and flow of the tides, prosperity ebbs and flows on Harris. Young people must leave to find work, while well-off retirees arrive to enjoy the quaint island life. Harris Tweed is in fashion and then out and the weavers struggle. To everything there is a season, but the fickle weather can mean five different types of weather in one day. Harris has lunar landscapes and white sand beaches and wonderful wildflowers. I have never visited the Outer Hebrides, but this book makes a wonderful substitute for a visit. Years ago, I read The Sea Room by Adam Nicholson and sent the author an email, which he answered. Yeadon’s trip to the islands owned y the Nicholson family are part of his exploration of island life. If you liked this book, read The Sea Room.
I found this book while searching for travel essays about Scotland. Though I learned a lot about the traditions and current issues on the Scottish isles, as well as who to know in Scotland's Hebrides, I found that the book lacked depth and originality. Instead of the author (who is a seasoned adventure and travel writer) writing profound and beautiful paragraphs about the landscape, people, and lessons learned, he ends up doing lazy writing and just quotes other authors who did take the time to write beautiful language. Too bad, there were plenty of opportunities for the author to dig deep and pour his heart on the pages. Instead, I ended up just writing down the authors he quoted and I will read them.
Overall a worthwhile read. It is a history lesson, narrated by an author who is not native but who appreciates the layers of emotions and natural forces that shaped the outer Hebrides. Like the peat, it is dense and richly compacted, but worth cutting through. I learned that despite generations separating me from the clearances that drove many of my clan to distant shores, I retain the classic character traits of the MacLeods of Lewis. Seasons on Harris feels like coming home.
A good introduction to the Hebrides. Lots of tweedy words and seabird mentions. You'll learn flora and fauna of all stripes, and will get many titles to read afterwards.
With no travel planned this summer, I’m traveling via books. Pleasant enough account of the Outer Hebrides. Competent. I learned plenty of Scottish island geography from it.
I love travel guides which is how I stumbled on this (it was in the travel section). I also love quirky books about places I've been, have never been, and may not get to see. I am so glad I've found David Yeadon. There are a lot of books in this genre (A Year in Provence, etc., etc., etc., blah, blah, blah) but this one, for some reason, has a different feel to it. While there are the interesting and sometimes humorous portraits of the people, and the sad tale of the dwindling tweed trade, there is a painterly quality to this that I find, sometimes gets lost in other books of this type. In some ways I found myself comparing it to Bernd Heinrich's books. This is a wonderful tale and since I can't afford the airfare, I'm glad I was able to see Harris through David Yeadon's eyes.
I've learned all sorts of interesting things from this book, such as the meaning of the term crofter and how important Harris Tweed is to their indigenous lifestyle. My mother is of Scottish ancestry and this book has given me insight into the origins of some of her religious attitudes and traditions. Travel essays written by authors who actually live in the place they write about are always more interesting and the pencil sketches made this book even more delightful.
have to say that I Loved this book! I love the story telling, the wry observations, the day trips around and off of Harris and Lewis and most of all, the Characters! Bonus: The beautiful sepia watercolors of the area that the already talented author painted.
If you like travel writing, stories about the people that live on Islands, Scottish stuff, history and various folk lore, this is the book for you!
Author David Yeadon and his wife Anne spent a year in Scotland's Outer Hebrides using Harris as a base. The book is based on the flow of seasons. The islands are brought to life through the friends they made, the history they researched and the wonderful descriptions of the land on which they were living. They were welcomed by the residents who cheerfully regaled them with tales of past and present while filling them with tea, cookies, cakes and other homemade goodies.
Yeadon has lived deeply and well in a place I dream of visiting someday. His is a book of voices, the voices of friends he made and people he interviewed during his year on Harris and Lewis. It's well worth reading, if you're interested in Scotland and travel. It helped me feel that I knew the place and some of its people a little better.
The island of Harris, in Scotland's Outer Hebrides, seems like a magical place, and Yeadon's memoir makes me want to go and stay awhile, especially since it seems like a place that benefits from more than a passing through. Lovely anecdotes, evocative descriptions, a bit draggy in places...but a calm, measured book of stories overall.
A lovely portrait of a year spent on the Isle of Harris, filled with colorful anecdotes about the people, life, climate, wildlife, events, history, religion, artisan crafts, music, and Gaelic language in Scotland's Outer Hebrides. But the main feature of the book is always the majestic landscape! A lovely travelogue of Scotland and engaging read for all seasons!
Initially engaging as a portrait of an intriguing place, but about 200 pages too long. Certainly made me want to visit the Hebrides, but Yeadon lost my interest about halfway through Autumn.