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10 April 2009

The right direction of Travelling

THE contribution of Scotland's travelling folk to the cultural landscape, particularly in the north-east, should never be forgotten. As jealous custodians of a rich tradition of songs, stories and folklore, they wove themselves into the fabric of the nation. But theirs is a story that, like the passing of their way of life, has slipped into the mists of time. It is a story that deserves more than the mere footnote it currently holds: a history of heart-tugging romance and intrigue, of a community held together by fierce familial ties, existing on wit and wisdom, on craft and craftsmanship. Theirs is a rich and powerful voice, but it is also an outsider's, one that whispers from the margins of society.
An unconventional, itinerant life brings stigma, which gives rise to prejudice. It is impossible to tell the story of Scotland's travelling community without placing it against a backdrop of adversity. Eleanor Thom's The Tin-Kin is a powerful and moving novel which weaves the tale of travelling folk in the north of Scotland with a modern narrative.
Dawn is the main protagonist in the latter. When her Aunt Shirley dies, she finds herself back in her oppressive small-town Highland community for the first time in years. As she goes about tidying up her relative's affairs, she stumbles upon an album of old photographs. In one, a young couple are pictured on a beach; another shows an old woman with hands on her hips and head thrown back in laughter; in another, little girls pose in hand-me-down kilts with toothless smiles. Why did her aunt treasure these pictures for so long? Do they reveal something significant about the family history?
Dawn's search for an answer becomes a search for identity; one that is conducted in the company of her young daughter Maeve and the malevolent presence of her estranged husband. Dawn's story is interwoven with that of a travelling family in the 1950s. The narrative voice flits expertly between different members: there is wee Betsy (the granddaughter), Auld Betsy (the grandmother) and Jock (the son). Each tale has a significance to the life of Dawn.
The constantly shifting narrative voice reflects the impermanency of the travellers' existence. It is most successful when telling the story of wee Betsy, an impish young traveller whose exploits indirectly give rise to tragic consequences. The narrative voice may traverse generations, but Thom's exploration of the significance of family history, and how the secrets of the past impact on the present, brings a wonderful cohesion.
The story of the travellers reveals a genuine sense of community. This is manifest in a profound closeness, both physically and emotionally. These are people who literally live on top of each other, but who are bound together both by the poverty of their existence and a shared history. The minutiae of family life - the so-called untidy moments - are celebrated as a reflection of intimacy and love. Theirs is also a moral code that is portrayed as more liberal and accepting than society at the time. Prejudices are never far from the surface, to be found in every disapproving glance from the locals. This petty, almost casual, bigotry eventually culminates in a brutal incident which forms the core of the novel.
This is a poignant and moving story that gathers pace as the book progresses. The descriptive language is wonderfully evocative. "Big Ellen beamed, her cheeks like two sponge cakes rising. She crouched down as far as her great belly would allow, a circus elephant on its knees ... Jock's wrinkles don't stay there all the time ... He can wipe them off with a hand, not like Granny with her mashed-tattie face."
If there is an over-emphasis on descriptive language at times then that is a minor quibble about an accomplished and thought-provoking debut.

Source : www.sundayherald.com/mostpopular.var.2499901.mostviewed.travelling_in_the_right_direction.php

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