This is from a lovely review by Allan Massie of A Particular Man, in the Scotsman: ‘It is a very fine period piece, an old black-and-white movie in words. One finds oneself mentally casting the characters: the young Dirk Bogarde for Starling, the very young Jean Simmons for Aida, Valerie Hobson for Clementine, Donald Sinden…
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At last! My new novel, A Particular Man, is about to come out. Publication date: 13th June. It’s been a long haul since the demise of my former publisher, but we’ve got here. Bloodhound are not only publishing A Particular Man, but also reissuing Blasted Things in September. I’m delighted as, while both volumes are…
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Deep mid-winter. Only three days till the longest night. I find this time of year exciting and inspiring, the light on the bare trees, the way you can see the architecture of the branches and twigs and the shapes of the birds within. There’s always one day in the run-up to Christmas when it doesn’t…
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On my dog-walk this morning I was struck by the softness of everything on this grey mid-summer day: soft air, soft clouds, soft breeze stirring the branches, stroking my bare arms and the soft, sweet scent of elderflower. So unusually soft and dry and cushy for Edinburgh. But at the end of the week, we’ll…
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Sometimes a writer can’t write. Sometimes the writing flows irresistibly. But most of the time there is an in-between state. This is the truth for me, at least. And it is in this in-between state that I am in now. It’s a state of being neither entirely driven, nor entirely blocked. I think the urge…
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When does it become counterproductive to stick to a resolution? I’ve been asking myself this recently, as my resolve has become stale and dutiful. That is the trouble with making a rule. My resolution was to spot five different kinds of bird a day, and not just to spot but to observe them, note details…
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Since my last post I’ve seen, among other birds: two buzzards fighting, a woodpecker and something green, either a siskin or a greenfinch. And I have learned to distinguish between pigeons and wood pigeons, the latter much bigger, sturdier, more solitary and posher than the flocks of feral pigeons in the city centre. Since feral…
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