The Literature of
Orkney and Shetland

Gender
At the outset, Inga is a child of nature. Her withdrawn and austere mother, ‘The Lady’, pays her little heed, other than to ensure she conforms to what is expected of a girl of her class when in the Ha-hoose. Inga’s nurse, Mam Osla, the only developed character who is fully local, represents the devoted, nurturing aspect of femininity, yet she is so full of superstition that, as Inga grows, she is ever less able to credit her beliefs.

Between mother and nurse, the young Inga must navigate a way to adulthood. The proper instruction comes from her appointed tutor, the minister’s son, Aytoun Weir, a rational and sensible fellow who, despite his religiosity, is a man of action. The reader realises early that Inga and he are well-suited temperamentally, much more so than she and her sickly, rather effete cousin, Laurence Traquair. Yet Laurence is ever the gentleman, rich and leisured, indulgent of Inga’s capricious nature, and it is her fate to marry him. She learns late on in the story that everyone but her had known this all along.

Overall, one senses that class and gender roles, though questioned, are nonetheless confirmed by the conclusion. Inga’s adoption of the ‘wild girl’, Ondine, perhaps represents the externalisation of her own rebelliousness. Inga is now ‘The Lady’ and, we might surmise, is in the process of civilizing this wild, foreign spirit, even as she indulges her. In doing so, Inga has perhaps become both her mother and her nurse.

If we consider that the period of the novel’s genesis is contemporary with the work of Ibsen and Amalie Skram across in Norway, it seems much less than radical, in terms of gender and class.

Depiction of Shetland
Although there is some memorable descriptive writing, showing the landscape, the changing light and the ever-present ocean, I don’t think this was a primary concern – the aim of the novel is surely more to entertain than to educate, and the focus is firmly on the deeds of the rich landowners and their clergy, though there are passages and incidents that do depict something of island life, however brief.

Yet I do believe that Saxby was telling it as she saw it, and the preface to the 2nd edition seems to indicate this, as she takes direct issue with some of the criticisms that have been levelled at the book.

Dialect
I found the dialect, which really only emanates from one source, Mam Osla, to be on the whole convincing. The obvious omission, which Saxby herself refers to, is the use of ‘th’ where the distinctive local pronunciation would be ‘d’. But in terms of the overall vocabulary, grammar and suggested cadence, and knowing that this was written by someone whose primary knowledge of dialect came from Unst, I thought it well-judged.

There is an attendant issue, however, which is that in those scenes where Inga and Mam Osla converse, Inga speaks as a lady should, whilst the nurse speaks broad dialect. Now this may be as Saxby experienced it, but I feel that had we witnessed Inga speaking the local tongue this would have helped to create a sense of her as the wild child of Shetland’s nature. However, this begs the question who the author imagined the reader to be, and it may have seemed too alienating, had Inga spoken the tongue of her forebears.

Economic conditions
Though they feature hardly at all, the peasantry seem docile and contented, and happily accepting of their lot, when they do. Yet this novel is set around a time when the population of the isles had risen to an unsustainable level, (31,000 in 1861) resulting in mass emigration. The fictional Vaalafiel seems quite isolated from these concerns, as perhaps certain islands or parishes may have been. We glean very little about their lives from ‘Rock-Bound’ as the focus is almost always on the well-to-do.

One instance of this is the key scene in the denouement, when the yacht carrying Inga’s mother, her husband and the man she loves is caught in a storm. We are told that the fishermen are all away at the most distant fishing grounds, and therefore cannot help in the rescue attempts, leaving the stage clear for her father to act heroically and so redeem his earlier crimes. But no mention is made of whether the fishermen survived the storm. As soon as they are dismissed as players in the central drama, they disappear from the reader’s sight.

Inga’s marriage
I think Saxby, and the Inga of the novel’s conclusion, would probably ask what is meant by ‘happy’. It would seem clear that Inga loves the dashing Aytoun Weir, but accommodates the expectations of her family and her tenantry by marrying the rich Laird, who is her first cousin, the son of her aunt. Even Aytoun seems to accept this arrangement. Her wilfulness is curbed ultimately and she does what is expected of her, by learning to accept, even love, the gentleman that her class dictates she should.

Writing a Shetland novel
Saxby was well aware of Scott’s ‘The Pirate’, and this novel must have felt to her like some kind of precedent, even if it wasn’t written by a Shetlander. She certainly refers at one point to Scott, correcting him re the presence of the skylark in Shetland. I think she might have felt, to some extent, that she was offering the inside story, in contrast to Scott, though the readership she had in mind would not have been entirely local, I have no doubt, by publishing in Edinburgh and so forth.

Generally, I think where a particular territory has been ‘claimed’ by a prolific author – for instance, more recently, George Mackay Brown and Orkney – it can be difficult for later writers to escape the ‘anxiety of influence’, or find a means of making that territory their own. Yet the depth of any culture lies in multiplicity and the more versions there are, the truer the whole.

Structurally, is the device of the direct address to Ondine successful in your mind? Personally I found I’d forgotten the beginning, intriguing though it is, by the time I reached the closing, explanatory chapters. I think one of my unsatisfied curiosities as a reader is Ondine herself. Would the book have benefited from further development of her character? Or further interaction between narrator and addressee in the middle sections?

–The plot seems to rely too much on chance. Is this an unconcious fault, or evidence of some belief that all is intended, governed and guided by forces we cannot understand? That Aytoun should have rescued ‘The Lady’ and Laurence in Italy, found the ‘hellyer’ whilst sailing by on a yachting trip before his family moved to Shetland and made his way into Inga’s bed-chamber, AND be the son of one of Inga’s father’s university friends (presumably before the father took up his living in Jewbadaal) all seems a bit of a stretch.

What are we to make of this fated aspect of the plot? Inga’s coming of age seems to involve her putting aside the superstitious philosophy of her nurse, yet so much of what happens in the latter stages seems based on a fated quality – e.g. the Jacob’s Ladder just prior to the baby’s death validates Mam Osla’s beliefs, Inga’s instant recognition of the place where her father was incarcerated proves her visionary nature. Is Saxby (deliberately?) giving credence to an older form of knowledge/second sight, even as she advocates reason and self-control, suggesting that deep nature must be contained within organised social structures? And does that conflict, if it exists, undermine the novel as a whole?

The relationship between Shetlander and Scot is touched upon here and there. We’re led to believe that the Hendersons are an ancient Shetland family, descending from udal times – who presumably have taken on the Scotch habit of laird/tenant. Is this distinction sufficiently clear for the reader from outside the isles? It would seem important, given the scene at the old castle, where the visitors play out a verbal war between Shetlanders and Scots. What do you make of that, and this issue as a whole?