Lewis Macleod was named after the island of his conception - Lewis, which is the northern part of Lewis and Harris, the largest island of the Westerm Isles, or Outer Hebrides of Scotland.
Lewis is, in general, the lower lying part of Lewis and Harris, with the other part, Harris, being more mountainous. The flatter, more fertile land means Lewis contains the largest settlement, Stornaway, and three-quarters of the population of the Western Isles. Beyond human habitation, the island's diverse habitats are
home to an assortment of flora and fauna, such as the golden eagle, red deer, seals and otters, and are recognised in a number of conservation areas.
Lewis is of Presbyterian tradition with a rich history, having once been part of the Norse Kingdom of Mann and the Isles. Today, life is very different from elsewhere in Scotland with Sabbath observance, the Gaelic language and peat cutting retaining more importance than elsewhere. Lewis has a rich cultural heritage as can be seen from its myths and legends as well as the local literary
and musical traditions.
The main scene in the book that takes place on Lewis is at Dalmore beach, pictured above. Here is an extract from that location...
They spent most of the time at Dalmore Beach, Lewis mesmerised by the ocean’s power and the ruggedness of the land: cliffs funnelling the already mighty water into thunderous waves crashing onto the sand. Too dangerous to swim in, but it was too cold anyway. It always was in the Hebrides. You didn’t come for the sun and an all-over tan. You came for the rawness, and for a day like today: the best day - when there was nothing else around other than the spectacle of the island whose name that he bore, and the man who had insisted on giving him that name – the one argument that he’d refused to back down on.
They had their lunch sitting on the sand: tea from a flask in a cup that they shared and ham sandwiches made from a pan loaf. Now that was a thing that would never have been allowed, not on any other day - wholemeal was better for you, or so his mother maintained, but it didn’t taste as good to an eight year old boy.
Cradled in strong legs, protected from the wind, Lewis watched the sea as his father told him the tales of the Blue Men who lurked there in wait. They were the storm kelpies who would emerge from the deep in search of boats to sink and sailors to drown. A wee boy had best beware and not
run off from his dad, Lewis was warned with a hug. Dangerous waters would have him away and the kelpies would have him for dinner – information he was given with a tea-spilling tickle and tears of laughter in his eyes.
Lewis wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t run off. Why on earth would he want to do a thing like that? Happy as a lark, Lewis snuggled in closer as another ham sandwich was tackled - the boy pondering the latest lesson he’d been given, digesting as he ate. Life was good at present, as good as it gets –
that was the child’s conclusion. But those kelpies could still be a problem, he thought - out there in the sea, waiting - waiting for them to go home in a few days time.
Perhaps it would be best to stay and not take the chance! Lewis reckoned that that would be a very good plan. Then there would be no school for him to go to back to, with its bullies in the playground to be faced and beaten up by – East End Weegies who didn’t like his funny accent, as if they had any right to talk! Nor would there be work to claim his dad during the day, and make him stay out late so Lewis missed a goodnight kiss, which hurt the lad more than any juvenile fist. And then that man, Mr. Murdoch, wouldn’t need to come and see him: come all the way from England, to assess his talent. That last one in particular was a terrifying notion – much scarier than those kelpies and
the bullying thugs in the playground. Lewis was afraid that he would fail, and in doing so let his dad down. Then the dream that they shared would come to an end. And dreams can be so important to an eight year old boy when the reality around him is a terrifying scene.
Oh if only those kelpies would sink all the boats then he wouldn’t be put to the test.
Lewis is, in general, the lower lying part of Lewis and Harris, with the other part, Harris, being more mountainous. The flatter, more fertile land means Lewis contains the largest settlement, Stornaway, and three-quarters of the population of the Western Isles. Beyond human habitation, the island's diverse habitats are
home to an assortment of flora and fauna, such as the golden eagle, red deer, seals and otters, and are recognised in a number of conservation areas.
Lewis is of Presbyterian tradition with a rich history, having once been part of the Norse Kingdom of Mann and the Isles. Today, life is very different from elsewhere in Scotland with Sabbath observance, the Gaelic language and peat cutting retaining more importance than elsewhere. Lewis has a rich cultural heritage as can be seen from its myths and legends as well as the local literary
and musical traditions.
The main scene in the book that takes place on Lewis is at Dalmore beach, pictured above. Here is an extract from that location...
They spent most of the time at Dalmore Beach, Lewis mesmerised by the ocean’s power and the ruggedness of the land: cliffs funnelling the already mighty water into thunderous waves crashing onto the sand. Too dangerous to swim in, but it was too cold anyway. It always was in the Hebrides. You didn’t come for the sun and an all-over tan. You came for the rawness, and for a day like today: the best day - when there was nothing else around other than the spectacle of the island whose name that he bore, and the man who had insisted on giving him that name – the one argument that he’d refused to back down on.
They had their lunch sitting on the sand: tea from a flask in a cup that they shared and ham sandwiches made from a pan loaf. Now that was a thing that would never have been allowed, not on any other day - wholemeal was better for you, or so his mother maintained, but it didn’t taste as good to an eight year old boy.
Cradled in strong legs, protected from the wind, Lewis watched the sea as his father told him the tales of the Blue Men who lurked there in wait. They were the storm kelpies who would emerge from the deep in search of boats to sink and sailors to drown. A wee boy had best beware and not
run off from his dad, Lewis was warned with a hug. Dangerous waters would have him away and the kelpies would have him for dinner – information he was given with a tea-spilling tickle and tears of laughter in his eyes.
Lewis wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t run off. Why on earth would he want to do a thing like that? Happy as a lark, Lewis snuggled in closer as another ham sandwich was tackled - the boy pondering the latest lesson he’d been given, digesting as he ate. Life was good at present, as good as it gets –
that was the child’s conclusion. But those kelpies could still be a problem, he thought - out there in the sea, waiting - waiting for them to go home in a few days time.
Perhaps it would be best to stay and not take the chance! Lewis reckoned that that would be a very good plan. Then there would be no school for him to go to back to, with its bullies in the playground to be faced and beaten up by – East End Weegies who didn’t like his funny accent, as if they had any right to talk! Nor would there be work to claim his dad during the day, and make him stay out late so Lewis missed a goodnight kiss, which hurt the lad more than any juvenile fist. And then that man, Mr. Murdoch, wouldn’t need to come and see him: come all the way from England, to assess his talent. That last one in particular was a terrifying notion – much scarier than those kelpies and
the bullying thugs in the playground. Lewis was afraid that he would fail, and in doing so let his dad down. Then the dream that they shared would come to an end. And dreams can be so important to an eight year old boy when the reality around him is a terrifying scene.
Oh if only those kelpies would sink all the boats then he wouldn’t be put to the test.