A Son of the Rock

Cassell & Co Ltd, 1898, p, with nine illustrations by W Hole.

This is the third of Barrie’s Thrums trilogy, all narrated by the dominie (schoolmaster) in Glen Quharity, which lies four miles from Thrums. Unlike in the first two instalments, though, here the narrator is finally named as a Mr Ogilvy.

The meat of the story is in the early incumbency in Thrums of new Auld Licht Minister, Mr Dishart, young, keen, well regarded by his congregation, and a joy to his mother Margaret since he has fulfilled her wishes for him. Mr Ogilvy takes more than a normal interest in the little minister since he knew Margaret in his own youth. It is apparent from his remembrances that he has carried a torch for her ever since but he takes care not to let her know of his presence nearby since he feels she would not be happy to be reminded of him.

Plot kicks off when a detachment of soldiers is sent to the town to round up weavers who had taken part in a recent riot against changes in their conditions. Forewarning of the soldiers’ mission is brought to the town by a young woman they call the Egyptian (their name for a gipsy) whose intervention allows the suspects to evade capture. Dishart tries to stop any violence and in doing so encounters the woman. He cannot understand why her influence makes him do things he would not have otherwise; things such as not denounce her to the authorities or throwing a ‘divit’ at one of the soldiers. The word divit here is an example of many Scots usages sprinkled through the book, especially in dialogue. This very strong Scottish flavour may be a barrier for some. The Egyptian’s facility both with Scots and standard English is another source of confusion for Dishart as in many respects she behaves and sounds like a member of the monied class.

It is readily apparent that this will be a story of star-cross’d lovers whose circumstances present seemingly insurmountable difficulties to their relationship. Dishart’s parishioners will not countenance a union between their minister and a gipsy; the Egyptian (we later find she is named Babbie) is betrothed to the elderly Lord Rintoul, for whose benevolence towards her she feels an obligation, and the wedding is imminent.

That dour Scottish strain of Calvinism is illustrated by Ogilvy’s reflection that “A minister with a smile on his face would never have been called to the Auld Licht kirk, for life is a wrestle with the devil and only the frivolous think to throw him without taking off their coats.”

However, the dominie’s own outlook is somewhat brighter, “Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and it is the lover’s privilege,” if also nuanced, “Not to attempt a gallant deed for which one has the impulse may be braver than the doing of it.”

Pedant’s corner:- a missing comma before a piece of direct speech (x 2.) “A detachment of the soldiers were marching down the Roods from the north” (a detachment was marching,) a missing full stop.

SPFL Tier 4, Galabank, 29/08/26.

This can’t go on. According to the stats on the BBC website we had one shot on target all game. And Annan were in the throes of an injury crisis.

In all my time supporting the Sons I don’t think I’ve ever been so resigned to such pessimism about the club’s future.

I wasn’t there; obviously. Only a diehard masochist would have made the long trip to Annan the way we’ve been performing.

The team line-up looks like it was selection bingo again.

It’s more than possible the manager has “lost the dressing room” as they say. The signs were there the last two weeks and it seems again today. He’s certainly lost the fans.

There was no cohesion last week at Kelty, the players didn’t look as if they knew what they were supposed to be doing. I think we don’t have leaders on the pitch right now. That again is down to the manager.

I know it’s still early in the season, but his record is woeful. Only six wins in the ten or so months he’s been in charge – and not a single one away from home.

Time for him to go.

You’d think he’d have the self-awareness to realise himself he’s out of his depth. He owes it to the club to resign pronto. It gave him his chance and he’s blown it.

Yorkshire Sculpture Park is situated some miles south of Wakefield. Since in our visits to Haworth and Bradford we were close, we took it in.

The Sculpture Park is similar to Jupiter Artland near Edinburgh but covers a much larger area.

There are several Henry Moore sculptures in its grounds.

Upright Motives is near the car park, well before the entrance building:-

Three Piece Reclining Figure:-

Large Spindle Piece:-

Large Totem Head:-

I’m afraid I didn’t note down what this one was called (two angles below):-

Reclining Figure, Arch Leg:-

Reclining Figure Arch Leg showing ‘mouth’:-

I don’t think there can be anyone who didn’t admire Dolly Parton. For making her way in a male orientated musical genre, for being herself and true to herself, for her determination, for not compromising, for writing (and performing) great songs. And then she parlayed her success into founding the Imagination Library providing books for millions of children. And she contributed a million dollars towards the development of Moderna’s COVID vaccine.

I was surprised on looking it up that she never really had a big solo hit in the UK (Jolene was only a no 7, as was her collaboration with Kenny Rogers, Islands in the Stream; none of her other songs made even the top thirty.)  Yet the songs are so good and so familiar.

This one became the theme song to British sitcom Butterflies (though it was a version by Clare Torry which the producers used on the credits.)

Dolly Parton: Love is Like a Butterfly

The song which probably made Dolly the most money (even though she turned down an offer for Elvis Presley to sing it, which would have involved her giving up copyright,) I Will Always Love You, had its biggest success when Whitney Houston sang it for her film The Bodyguard. Yet to me Houston’s version was overblown and sounded soulless, whereas Dolly’s original was more intimate.

Dolly felt the song. Houston didn’t.

Dolly Parton: I Will Always Love You

Dolly Rebecca Parton, 19/1/1946 – 25/8/2026. So it goes.

Titan Books, 2025, 288 p. Reviewed for ParSec 15.

Ever since something known as the weatherbomb hit it, cutting it off from its past and erasing some of its inhabitants, Jamie Pike’s Fairharbour has been a city enveloped in everlasting winter. All contact between its island and the mainland has been severed, any expeditions sent out over the frozen wastes of the sea never heard from again. Black-clad officers called Doormen patrol the streets enforcing order, sealing entrances and windows to keep heat inside buildings. Jamie spends a lot of his time tinkering in the workshop of his vanished uncle by marriage, Pawel, a mechanical whizz, and watching what remains of the work of his grandmother Carmen, a famous film-maker.

By contrast, after the weatherbomb, Esther Pike has lived in a Fairharbour bathed in perpetual summer, with sunlight a relentless presence. In her Fairharbour too, an authoritarian regime, The Fenestration, exerts power, forever cutting holes in the walls of buildings. She, too, strains against the restricted life of her city.

With this premise of a city with a doubled character, City of All Seasons has a superficial similarity to China Miéville’s The City and the City but is in the end much more interesting than his novel (which was really only a murder mystery with an unusual setting.)

Both Jamie and Esther wonder what has become of the other and of their lost family members but both have encounters with the city’s mayor, a curious apparition always dressed in a diving suit yet who seems to be able to bridge the divide between the two manifestations of the sundered city. Their two stories are told in strictly alternating first person narratives as their interconnections begin to mount.

One of those connections lies via an atypical Tarot deck, three of whose cards are involved in the exchanges between the winter and summer city. Illustrations of those, The Two of Fish, The Stage, and the Nine of Smiles, preface three of the book’s four sections.

To plot, though. Jamie catches a glimpse of greenery and begins to wonder if there is another existence just out of reach. He constructs a kaleidoscope from some glass fragments, wing mirrors and a tube, and leaves it where he hopes it might be found by Esther.

The story delves into Jamie and Esther’s past lives and of their family before the split (crucially their uncles Jan and Remi were forever unable to share) while also gradually revealing the lore and customs of the city. In this, the tale of the city’s emblem, the smiling knight, assumes significant importance. In an old interview with Carmen she told of this as her inspiration for an intended film about a man who uses his death for the benefit of the city and prophesies, “‘When I die; it will be spectacular.’”

Also prophetic are a suit worn by her, black on one side, white on the other, slashed diagonally from right collarbone to left ribcage, and a two-handed saw made by Pawel. All of this comes together in the city’s Lavender Theatre, the source of the divide.

Though there is a slight imbalance between the two strands Langmead and Whiteley let their tale unfold at just the right pace, the similarities and differences between the situations of Jamie and Esther counterpointing and emphasising each other, the influence of their extended family to the past and future gradually becoming clearer in this well-written and characterful novel elegantly resolved.

One final note. Very few fantasy novels have as a plot point the construction and subsequent playing of a glass harmonica. A pleasing touch.

The following did not appear in the published review.

Pedant’s corner:-  “the orchestral pit” (usually ‘the orchestra pit’,) “to keep him a state of permanent uncertainty” (to keep him in a state of,) “crow’s feet” (crows’ feet,) “but Fairharbour’s artist population were never meant to” (Fairharbour’s artist population was never meant to.) Descendent (Descendant,) Esther has dyslexia [“the alphabet still runs away, even now”] but she is narrating half of this story with no apparent difficulty. “Hardly a shard of its enormous windows remain” (Hardly a shard … remains,) “one less eyesore” (one fewer eyesore,) “none of the Fenestration guards … have spotted” (none … has spotted,) “with nine people stood upon it” (standing upon it; there were more instances of ‘stood’ for ‘standing’,) a single opening quote mark at the beginning of a piece of direct speech; all other such marks are double. “The fishing fleet are out already” (The fishing fleet is out.)  “The crowd of Doormen part around him” (The crowd … parts around him,) “golden candelabras” (candelabra is already plural,) a new sentence without an initial capital letter, focussed (focused – used later,) “at the far end of the lawn were a large group” (was a large group,) “I dove” (I dived,) “-together, intense,” (- together, intense,) a missing comma before a piece of direct speech. “It lays open on the wooden bench” (It lies open.) “The rippling of all the droplets dripping from the ceiling distort it” (The rippling …. distorts it,) “at the peripheral of the city” (at the periphery.) “They put her hands to her throat” (‘They put their hands to her throat’ makes more sense,) “they sweat” (‘the sweat,) “untameable enormity” (it wasn’t a terrible thing, just a large one; so ‘untameable size’ or ‘untameable extent’,) fit (fitted.)

Clayton Heights is an area of Bradford. We passed this Memorial on our way to Haworth. It lies at the junction of Stocks Lane and  Highgate Road.

The Memorial is a stone cross above a tapering octagonal column on a square pediment curving upwards. It seemed to display only names for the Great War. The wreath in the photo may be covering a Second World War dedication and names though:-

Great War names:-

Doubleday, 2026, 193 p. Translated from the Japanese 木曜日にはココアを (Mokuyōbi ni wa kokoa, literally Thursday Cocoa,) Takarijamasha Inc, Tokyo, 2017, by E Madison Shimoda.

This is not so much a novel as a series of linked short pieces (calling them stories is not quite accurate) each with some sort of connection to the Marble Café in Tokyo.

The server in the café, who one day simply asked the owner for a job, has a yen for the woman who comes in on Thursday and always has a hot chocolate. The owner is known as Maestro, has a mole in the centre of his forehead and another business selling/promoting art.

After the first, each chapter then proceeds with one of the characters from the previous one carrying on with their own story. Every chapter has its own title and a (different) colour designation.

The scenes range as far as Sydney in Australia, though. In one of these a character tastes Vegemite and reflects it “looks sweet but is actually salty – isn’t that what life is like?”

Another character thinks “We’re all intertwined in each other’s lives without even knowing it” which corresponds a bit too much to what the structure of Hot Chocolate on Thursday is like.

An unusual feature of the publication is that at the top right-hand corner of each odd-numbered page is an illustration of a cup and what looks like a teapot (but may be supposed to contain hot chocolate) at first poised to pour but, as the chapters progress, pouring liquid into the cup until it is full and giving off condensed vapour. (I refuse to call this steam. Steam, pure steam, is a colourless gas, not white.)

The book has an addendum titled Matcha on Monday (月曜日の抹茶カフェ, Getsuyōbi no matcha kafe, literally Monday Matcha Café) on which the café, normally closed on a Monday, is open – but only to sell matcha.

Aoyama’s writing is fine enough but overall Hot Chocolate on Thursday feels a little inconsequential.

Pedant’s corner:- octopi (the English plural is ‘octopuses’, the Greek ‘octopodes’.)

Valley Parade – at the time I photographed it the University of Bradford Stadium but now apparently Mbanq Valley Parade – is the home of Bradford City AFC, known as the Bantams.

Main stand:-

Stands:-

View to far stand (to right):-

Further in towards the city centre were two architecturally interesting (to me anyway) buildings:-

This one has hints of Art Deco – horizontals, verticals, rule of three – but it’s really more classical:-

SPFL Tier 4, New Central Park, 22/8/26

Well we took the lead – through a penalty given for handball (but like most of those given these days it did not look intentional.) Leighton McIntosh put it away well.

We then proceeded to shoot ourselves in the foot almost immediately by giving away a foul a few yards outside the box. There wasn’t any need for the challenge. Unlike us they had someone who can hit the target from there.

A minute later we were down – and out. An uncontested shot from just outside the box wrong-footed Aidan Rice but I was still puzzled as to why he didn’t make an attempt to get down to save it.

Every time they went up the park our defence looked uncomfortable. A recurring theme.

Things didn’t change much in the second half. We did have an opportunity when the ball broke to Kai Kirkpatrick (I think) but his effort was blocked wide and the return ball across the box was begging for a firm foot to direct it in but it only got a tickle. Had we equalised then who knows what would have happened? Otherwise we had only two Scott Honeyman volleys from too far out which went wide or over.

Their third was as a result of an underhit back pass. Though Aidan Rice forced the forward wide the cutback was perfectly played to the supporting attacker.

Four games played, three lost, eight goals conceded and only one point above bottom spot. Feels far too familiar.

The latest book to arrive for review in ParSec is The Rouse by China Miéville.

This is something of a doorstop; coming in at over 1000 pages.

In fact it’s such a size that the ARC (proof copy) I have received in fact comes in two paperback volumes. The first has a pagination ending at 646, the second’s starts at 649 (minus title page and publishing information, so fair enough) and ends at 1244. Heavy lifting.

The blurb calls it The Masterpiece Twenty Years in the Making. A big claim.

Miéville is of course known to me. I have reviewed nine of his books on A Son of the Rock.

The review of The Rouse ought to appear in ParSec 17.