This was lovely. So true to the landscape and isolation and community of the isles, with plenty of Scots to boot. It won’t be for everyone because of its extensive use of poetic language and slower pacing but I absolutely loved it. I’ve always wanted to be a lighthouse keeper, for the allure of the lamp and the tumultuousness of the sea, and this has done nothing to put that dream to bed. A brilliant addition to the canon on lighthouses!Of Firth, the troubled writer from the bright lights of Edinburgh, “How ill he must have be never to see a smile, only the teeth behind it.” Michael Pederson, your words are awfie bonnie.Thank you to my colleague Abbe for lending it to me!

Firth is depressed and hasn't found the contentment he thought he would as a writer in Edinburgh. He decides that as one last artistic deed, he will travel to Muckle Flugga - the northern-most inhabited part of Scotland - to paint the gannet, his grandfather's favourite bird. There he is temporary lodger toThe Father and 19-year-old Ouse, the lighthouse's last guardians, one a tyrannical hermit and the other a beautiful creative who makes gorgeous knitwear and revels in the island's beauty. Michael Pedersen has seemlessly moved from poetry to memoir and now to novel. Infusing this debut with his renowned love of and penchant for words, Muckle Flugga reads like the work of someone who has been writing novels for years. But perhaps that is because in everything he does, Michael is a story-teller. Whatever he is writing, Michael always takes his readers on a journey, first transporting them to the world inside his head, then populating it with vibrant, multifarious characters. I loved spending time on the island of Muckle Flugga, exploring its coves, its waters and its many magical rooms. It felt like the author must be as familiar with the island as the Father himself. The complex love story of Ouse and Firth is gripping and tragic but also hopeful - perhaps they can offer each other exactly what they need! In the Father the novel celebrates and laments a way of life that seems doomed from the start. A simple life that celebrates nature and what we can create for ourselves with our own hands, which is under threat from big cities and technology - the looming likelihood that the lighthouse will soon be automated and Muckle Flugga become uninhabited. Firth, who himself is fleeing the unhappiness of his Edinburgh life, cannot help but try to pull Ouse away from his island home, while the Father tries to cling onto Ouse who is his last chance at a successor to the lighthouse trade. We as the reader must ask ourselves, what is actually best for Ouse? Muckle Flugga is a novel with no easy answers, a novel which understands and embraces that complexity of human nature. As Ouse says: "... sometimes it's ok to look the other way when the ugly parts of somone you love are showing." Vitally vibrant, full of heart and wonder, Pedersen has once again taken on a new medium and proved himself a natural and a joy to read. May there be many more novels (and poems) from the King of Words. I give this book all of the stars you can see on a clear night from the top of Muckle Flugga's lighthouse

A command of language that glitters, in a story that will resonate with anyone who wonders where they belong and feels the push/pull of where they come from.

I am being drawn to remote and rocky Scottish islands this year. In March, I read Geraldine McCaughrean’s extraordinary YA historical thriller, ‘Where the World Ends’ (& a ‘stack’ of kids’ picture books set on St Kilda). Then, last night, I finished Michael Pederson’s wonderful, weird novel ‘Muckle Flugga’ set on an island of the same name, off Unst, Shetland. There’s something so unique about these incredibly remote, craggy settings that lend themselves to be drawn as mystical and simultaneously hostile to human life. Muckle Flugga is barely habitable: it takes a special type of mindset to live there. Enter ‘the father’, as rugged as the island, his manners as rough and spiky; his temperament as mercurial as the weather he must contend with. The father has what it takes to survive the Muckle Flugga life -he’s survived worse-and doesn’t suffer the kind of fools that cannae hack it. The father lives with his son, Ouse, and must also, begrudgingly, open his home to visiting lodgers upon occasion to help pay the bills. The conflicting natures of father and son are one source of interest. Unspoken tensions & the father’s festering unresolved trauma threaten to bubble over at any point. There is a power imbalance caused by the father’s unpredictability and tendancy towards violent outbursts. But mainly, the two plod on in a domestic routine that seems to serve them both sufficiently. You can see, however, why an outsider might want to wrest Ouse away from this man and this way of living. When Firth, a highly educated young man from the academic world of Edinburgh, descends on Muckle Flugga, his fatalistic intentions are interrupted. He finds in Ouse everything he craves to have himself: raw, incredible talent, humility, and a thirst for life even in adverse conditions. Firth’s intentions can be interpreted variously at different points: he seems to want to love & worship Ouse, sometimes to the point of possession; he casts himself as a saviour despite his many flaws; and, in midful moments, he also wants to be more like Ouse. So, Ouse is quickly hoisted onto a pedestal and Firth begins an obsessive project to ‘help’ Ouse access the recognition he deserves, and what Firth sees as a more worthy, fulfilling life in the capital. This all despite Firth himself being reinvigorated and inspired on the rocky island. As reader, Firth’s cloudy intentions, and the way he oscillates between authentic and manipulative made me feel as conflicted as I was compelled- sharing in Ouse’s own emotional journey, I guess. At the end of the novel, my feelings towards Firth are as complex as the man himself. He is troubled and does some troubling acts, but I have some real sympathy for him too as he often shows such self-awareness as he battles his own demons. Will Firth-the would-be saviour- find his own reasons to keep on living if he can’t keep up his connection to Ouse? Wonderful Ouse is mild-mannered but not to be underestimated. Did Firth’s fateful arrival change Ouse’s trajectory? Would he have made the leap without Firth planting the seed? Talking up the possibilities, using his loval knowledge if Edinburgh to assure him he could succeed? It’s hard to say. But you are left in no doubt that Ouse has the capacity for self-determination, & the talent & character to prosper without anyone else. It’s time for Ouse to step out from others’ shadows and make his own path. This is a layered, character-driven novel that had me enthralled. It is often taut and psychological, the claustrophobia in the relationships emphasised by the small, difficult-to-escape setting. There’s also awe and humour; mythology and tradition; and ghosts (of all sorts but including one of the best ghosts). The use of language is fantastic: Scottish dialects, lyrical description and some delightful vocabulary bring an original voice that I loved lodging in, despite being an outsider.

Muckle Flugga, a wonderful debut novel by Michael Pedersen, the words of which just sparkle and zap from the pages hitting like sharp little teeth, I had to run to dictionary corner on numerous occasions! Ouse and The Father will be forever in my heart just wonderfully drawn characters and the ending for me was sublime. My favourite book of the year so far.