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3.75 AVERAGE
3.75 AVERAGE
3.5 Was quite enjoying this until I got to the puffin eating ... then I had to put it down.
This book was too things: wonderful, and far, far too long. So long that the structure 0 which proceeded fairly straightforwardly through Nicolson's history with the islands and then the islands history, from prehistoric times to the present, frequently got lost in the many, many diversions and too long anecdotes. What also got lost in the masses of stories and information were the flashes of genuinely beautiful writing, which did pop up now and again. If this 400 page book was 250 pages, I probably would have given in 5 stars. But it just kept going.
I made it a whopping eleven pages into this book before I had enough and threw it away in disgust.
It is hard to rate a book when the content of the novel is beautiful and engaging, except for the parts where the writer's own opinions shine through too much, as these are sexist and entitled. Overall a hugely enjoyable read that taught me a lot about Scottish / Irish / Nordic history, yet a frustrating one at times too.
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
⭐⭐⭐.5
This was a non-fiction book about the Shiant Islands in Scotland, owned by the author. They are tiny islands that have at times been home to small communities of people and currently are home to large communities of birds. it was the author's Love Letter to these islands he got from his father when he was 21. It was very detailed - and I mean VERY detailed - but the authors poetic language and obvious deep affection for the place made it a compelling read. Some parts of the authors stances on things like ownership and women and the islands didn't sit comfortably with me but they did provide food for thought. Overall a well written love letter to three islands that I'd love to see one day, if only to place all the history in an actual landscape.
.
This was a non-fiction book about the Shiant Islands in Scotland, owned by the author. They are tiny islands that have at times been home to small communities of people and currently are home to large communities of birds. it was the author's Love Letter to these islands he got from his father when he was 21. It was very detailed - and I mean VERY detailed - but the authors poetic language and obvious deep affection for the place made it a compelling read. Some parts of the authors stances on things like ownership and women and the islands didn't sit comfortably with me but they did provide food for thought. Overall a well written love letter to three islands that I'd love to see one day, if only to place all the history in an actual landscape.
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3.5 stars. I enjoyed it for the most part - the social and natural history parts were really interesting, though I confess to skim reading the geology chapter. I really enjoyed reading about how the changes in the wider world effected the islands, and about the authors reaction to and evident love for the islands.
I was less happy about his assertion that these weren’t places for women (even though he has a whole chapter about a woman who evidently wanted to keep her family there and who only left when she died) and wondered what he'd have thought if he only had daughters, or grand daughters? Would they not get the experience that he's had just because they're not men?
I also thought that while, to some extent, the author does acknowledge that he's an outsider and that the islands can’t really be said to belong to anyone other than the shepherds, he doesn’t really get to grips with how privileged he, his father and his son are. He talks about tourist laden boats sailing around Staffa to see the caves, while he gets his all to himself. He says letting the RSPB manage the islands would be “killing” them. Meanwhile he travels up there once or twice a year from London while everyone else can only imagine the experiences he describes. He says that privately owned but community minded management is the best way for the Shiants, but what if his grandchildren or their grandchildren feel differently? What happens to the shepherds then? Nicholson clearly loves the islands, but his title and his money has given him and his children an experience that few others will ever have and I don’t think he truly acknowledges that.
I was less happy about his assertion that these weren’t places for women (even though he has a whole chapter about a woman who evidently wanted to keep her family there and who only left when she died) and wondered what he'd have thought if he only had daughters, or grand daughters? Would they not get the experience that he's had just because they're not men?
I also thought that while, to some extent, the author does acknowledge that he's an outsider and that the islands can’t really be said to belong to anyone other than the shepherds, he doesn’t really get to grips with how privileged he, his father and his son are. He talks about tourist laden boats sailing around Staffa to see the caves, while he gets his all to himself. He says letting the RSPB manage the islands would be “killing” them. Meanwhile he travels up there once or twice a year from London while everyone else can only imagine the experiences he describes. He says that privately owned but community minded management is the best way for the Shiants, but what if his grandchildren or their grandchildren feel differently? What happens to the shepherds then? Nicholson clearly loves the islands, but his title and his money has given him and his children an experience that few others will ever have and I don’t think he truly acknowledges that.