i-on Edinburgh Dec08

EYE ON THE CITY
It’s worth reading...
MATTHEW PERREN RECOMMENDS
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Alastair Reid left Scotland as a young man to join the Navy. He
never really returned to live except for short periods. Roughly
half of this collection of pieces – most of them written for
The New Yorker – looks at Scotland from outside with the
dispassionate eye of a man who loves his homeland but
has a clear and distant perspective lacked by the residents.
The second half looks at Abroad, the recurring and similar
viewpoint being of an outsider looking in. What comes up
time and again is the observation that, if you leave the place
of your birth and settle elsewhere then you will never really
belong anywhere. Your birthplace changes and leaves you
behind and the natives of your chosen home will never truly
allow you to belong. Given the recent shifting demographic
within the EU this is an observation made 20 or 30 years ago
that we would be well advised to relearn today. The poetry is
equally wise with the bonus of being easy to read. Reid’s way
with words is such that he dazzles you at the same time as
he leads you, almost by the hand, through his thoughts. These
two volumes represent the very best of one of Scotland’s (if
he can be claimed as Scottish) finest writers.
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A wonderful, big, fat, juicy book. A paean to the king of meats.
This is strictly off limits for veggies. It’s so meaty that a little bit
of blood runs out from between the pages when you slam it
shut. Containing recipes for such classics as Beef Wellington
and dishes for the bolder cook, using every part of the
cow. There’s even a proper recipe for mincemeat (not just
raisins…) and a red blooded Christmas pud. This is so butch
that I’m slightly scared of it. A must for every real man.
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This is a recipe for revealing how horribly ill informed you are
about your country. Although, if you are skilful, you can nod
sagely as you read some new fact and mutter, “Ah, yes!” as if
recalling the information from your excellent schooling. Where
else will you find a real recipe for making haggis from scratch
side by side with a potted biography of David Hume; a section
of the declaration of Arbroath and the curiously touching fact
that Lulu was only 14 when she had a hit with Shout? The
whole thing is, of course, silly – but oh so addictive.
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