Muckle Flugga by Michael Pedersen

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Review by Annabel

I’ll admit it – I picked up the book because of the cover’s gorgeousness and the pink sprayed edges, then I discovered it was signed by the author in purple with a heart around his signature. I was instantly smitten, but seriously, even without all that, could you possibly resist a novel featuring a lighthouse?

Muckle Flugga is real. A rocky outcrop at the tip of the Shetlands, it was the northernmost inhabited part of the UK, (outdone from being the absolute northernmost part of the UK by its tiny uninhabited sister isle Out Stack), but is no longer inhabited I believe. Its lighthouse was built in 1850 by those prolific lighthouse engineers, the Stevensons, one of whom was Robert Louis Stevenson’s father. Intriguingly, RLS himself is integral to this story, a contemporary tale of the man who could be the last lighthousekeeper and his family. It begins:

On the island of Muckle Flugga sits one of the most formidable lighthouses on this, or any, planet. Its wild pearl of light is capable of guiding boats – and their humans – to safety, in spite of all manner of storms, gales and hails; not to mention whirlpools, pirates, straying submarines and a litany of other hunters of the aquatic deep. As for the more malevolent presences the light keeps at bay, the less said the better.

The lighthouse is now manned by just one keeper, known as ‘The Father’, assisted by his laddie, who is described as, ‘though just beyond the schooling years, Ouse might be described as manoeuvring adulthood with the stabilisers still on.’ However, Ouse does have folk looking out for him, including the mainland storekeeper, Figgie, who brings their supplies and post over, but she’s not the only one.

Ouse is also blessed enough to keep company with one of the greatest thinkers in literary history, and his favourite of all the writers stocked in Muckle Flugga’s flourishing library – Robert Louis Stevenson. Or rather, the ghost of his human form, who serves as a life coach, confidant and sparring partner in what can be a challenging place to be young and lost. Coincidentally, the writerly dandy started appearing to Ouse the very day The Mother died.

United in their grief, The Father and Ouse express it separately in very different ways. Ouse in talking to RLS, The Father internalising it and becoming ever more insular. The relationship between father and son is strained but Ouse does seem to understand and gives him space to work it out, often heading off to Out Stack for peaceful contemplation amongst the wildlife. The Father does have a temper, exacerbated by booze.

Sometimes the drink enters The Father like a sonic boom like a blazing bolide like love letters torn in shreds – the spark in him, a savage blaze. […] Other times, the drink enters The Father like snow – quashing snarling flames, smooring the embers.

However, everything will be upset by the arrival of their latest lodger, Firth. Occasionally, to supplement wages, they take in a lodger who will stay at a cottage on the island. The Father is strict about who he’ll accept – bird watchers only. Firth is a young writer from Edinburgh, but persuades The Father he’s there to watch birds and paint them, and is admitted to the rocky isle. Ouse will look after him.

Ouse is such a wonderful character. A sensitive soul with a strong artistic bent; he draws and paints, he knits beautiful jumpers which are sold at a mainland market for him, he sews tapestries – and he reads, having built up a big library over the years. However, if he leaves a book lying around, it has a tendency to go missing…

It becomes apparent that The Father is not only a reluctant reader but sees reading as a form of intellectual bragging, something he has a proclivity for putting a stop to.

Ouse and Firth begin to strike up a friendship, that will deepen into something else as the pages go by, and as The Father realises, his jealousy and the knowledge that he is losing his son will stoke the flames leading to the climax of the novel. Ouse is ready to leave the island, he has little experience of life beyond occasional trips to the mainland. But he does worry about The Father – can he do it? Will Firth escape too? For all his faults, Ouse does love his father, who taught him well about the sea and survival on the island, but he needs to learn the different kind of survival out in the world. RLS, as you might imagine is supportive.

Ouse’s coming of age story is like no other I’ve read. Pedersen is a poet too and currently Edinburgh’s Makar (Poet Laureate). He was on a recent edition of Radio 4’s poetry performance programme hosted by Ian McMillan, The Verb. With his strong Edinburgh accent, his reading of his poems plus the opening of Muckle Flugga was brilliant – he was also very funny indeed. That humour and poetry is to be found in abundance in his novel, which also has drama, compassion and explores male friendship, with just a few Scottish dialect words thrown in too. The setting is simply magical and plays another character in the story – for who wouldn’t be moved by the scenery and the wildlife, but Pedersen’s writing is the star – not a word out of place. It goes without saying that I highly recommend this novel and I will be searching out Pedersen’s poetry and his other book, a memoir of male friendship (as well as going to see him in Oxford next month at Gulp Fiction in the Covered Market).

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Annabel is a co-founder of Shiny and one of its editors.

Michael Pedersen, Muckle Flugga (Faber & Faber, 2025). 978-0571387724, 309pp., hardback. 

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