Living in a world less busy

(Photo by Klaus/Wikimedia Commons)

There can’t be many writers who publish their first book aged 80. That is what Mary J MacLeod has done with ‘The Island Nurse’, a book I have been reading for the past few weeks. Her memories of living life as a nurse on a remote Scottish island more than 40 years ago made for a fascinating read.

In 1969 Mrs MacLeod and her husband George lived in the south of England. But they had become disillusioned with their way life and all its pressures. They wanted to live a life less cluttered and frantic.

They followed their dream and relocated with their young family to one of the remotest parts of the British Isles — the Hebridean islands off of Scotland’s northwest coast. It was a world apart from the life they knew. On the island Papavray (the island’s true identity is concealed to protect the privacy of those mentioned in the book) indoor toilets were still a luxury, while television was viewed with suspicion and even terror by some of the older residents.

Nurse Mrs MacLeod soon became entwined in the lives of the island people, getting to know their stories, their troubles, their joys — and a few secrets — as she and her family found themselves increasingly touched by the warmth of the remote community.

By the end of the book, the author refers to the many characters she met half-a-lifetime ago as ‘the dear, unique people who still live on that remote, rocky island’.

In ‘The Island Nurse’ (published in the US as ‘Call the Nurse’) Mrs MacLeod takes us on a journey that captures the nuances of island life. It is a touching memoir that traces many stories across the seasons of a year, from births and marriages, to tragedies and deaths. Keeping chapters short and fast-moving, Mrs MacLeod crams a remarkable number of vignettes and incidents into 300-odd pages.

In one chapter a window has to be removed to allow a bed-bound patient to be transported to a hospital, while there is a sinister reason behind a mysterious night-time rendezvous at a remote section of shore.

There are intricate portraits of her neighbours, and description of the hardships of island life. The author herself experiences some of those trials, including having the steering column of her car break on a remote mountain pass. She returns to her abandoned vehicle hours later to find a concerned islander has fashioned a temporary repair using sticky plasters that holds together until she gets her car home.

She joins the crofters one day sheep shearing high on the hillsides, where chatter, stories and jokes are shared, and sandwiches and Thermos drinks are consumed. As the bright afternoon turns to early evening Mrs MacLeod dallies, ensuring she is the last to leave the high vantage point. It gives her the opportunity to observe the village and the crofts far below. She writes: “Gradually, as the peace of the evening settled over the glen, I began to see little plumes of blue smoke rise from the chimneys as folk lit their fires. I listened — even distant voices had stilled, the hill was quiet once more, and I was left in the silent clamour of remembered noise.”

The author writes in a style that makes you feel you are right there, listening to the conversations as they happen and seeing the events unfold. When Mrs MacLeod turns her thoughts to her surroundings, she shows a talent for descriptive and evocative turns of phrase. The sea is “silver in owl-haunted moonlight”, while later in the year, as the evenings draw in, she drives along the island’s narrow, uneven roads “between small lochans with the brown peaty water winking at us in the failing light”.

A dozen or so islanders meet at a tiny croft for a ceilidh of drinking, unsophisticated entertainment, poems, songs, stories, jokes and reminiscing about “times gone by and people long dead’. Mrs MacLeod notes that once the small croft is full of people, and with a big peat fire generating heat in the fireplace, it soon becomes unbearably hot. “It seemed to me that ceilidhs were not ceilidhs unless everyone was perspiring freely by the end of the evening,” she writes.

Filled with stories that reflect the day-to-day lives of people far removed from the bustle of mainland towns and cities, Mrs MacLeod has impressively reflected the humour, warmth and culture that holds together these distant communities.

  The Island Nurse is published by Mainstream Publishing in the UK and Random House in the USA. 

Stormy morning in the middle of summer

A large storm system rolled across the Island yesterday, and for many hours it became stationary above this speck in the North Atlantic.

Having risen for breakfast I was aware of the gathering gloom outside - an unusual thing in summertime in Bermuda. Then the distant thunder began to boom, getting closer as it did.

Flashes of lightning soon danced behind the closed venetian blinds (I keep them closed in most rooms in the summer to deflect the sun's hot rays). As rain pitter-pattered against the windows I finished breakfast and looked outside. From horizon to horizon grey clouds filled the sky.

My daily run would have to wait. I returned to the bedroom to read a chapter or two of my current favourite read, Mary J MacLeod's 'The Island Nurse'. However, the dark clouds so successfully shut out the brightness of day that, even at 9am, I needed to switch on the room light to read my book.

For an hour or so I lay on the bed reading the book and listening to the storm battering away outside. But for the heat it could easily have been a winter's night in mid-summer.

The storm lasted all morning and stretched beyond midday before the rain finally switched itself off. I was then able to venture outside in the fresh, though mightily humid air - thankful for a pleasant piece of metrological variety to break up these long days of summer. And who doesn't like the experience of being comfortable at home, reading a book with a thunderstorm soundtrack beyond the walls and windows?

'Elysium' adds a new sci-fi peak to 2013

This year is turning out to be a particularly good one for sci-fi films that are more than just shoot-'em-up soap operas in space.

After the surprise of 'Oblivion' earlier in the year, the latest release 'Elysium' is another intelligent addition to the genre. It is well filmed, has some stunning special effects and carries an underlying social message.

Throw into the mix a well delivered menacing performance by Jodie Foster, and the equally menacing Sharlto Copley, and you have a movie treasure.

On a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon in Bermuda I ventured to the Southside Cinema to catch the just-released picture. I wasn't alone. The matinee showing was well attended, which is a good sign because I've often seen very sparse audiences at the 'way out east' cinema.

'Elysium' was directed by Neill Blomkamp, whose previous endeavour 'District 9' (2009) was also a much hailed sci-fi.

In 'Elysium' he creates a dystopian future where the inhabitants of Earth live in terrible poverty, in a polluted and overcrowded world, while the rich have fled to an orbiting space station filled with mansions, manicured lawns, swimming pools, and a healthcare system that eradicates illnesses and injuries.

The pace of the swirling story never drops, and cleverly builds to a climactic finale with plot twists to keep the viewer on edge.

There are some things that could have been done better. The hand-to-hand fighting scenes are confusingly filmed, and there are a few unlikely scenarios - such as the prevalence of USB technology in the year 2154. Also, lead actor Matt Damon could have done more to add a deeper dimension to his character Max. He gives a solid performance, but there was a real opportunity to humanise Max in the manner Carlton Heston achieved in 'Omega Man' (1971). Those who are familiar with 'Omega Man' will see shades of the Heston character arc shadowed in 'Elysium'

As I left the cinema I noticed many in the audience, like myself, appeared somewhat shell-shocked by the energetic two-hour movie ride that 'Elysium' had taken them on.

Both 'Elysium' and 'Oblivion' are strong contenders for best sci-fi film of the year.