His Bloody Project

Acknowledgements

In terms of research and inspiration, I owe my greatest debt to five volumes: Highland Folk Ways (Routledge, 1961) by I.F. Grant, an entirely indispensible guide to the way of life and traditions of the Scottish Highlands; The Making of the Crofting Community (John Donald, 1976) by James Hunter, which is the best book on the historical development of the Highlands I have come across; Children of the Black House (Birlinn, 2003) by Calum Ferguson, which offers a more anecdotal history; The Origins of Criminology: A Reader (Routledge, 2009) by Nicola Rafter, which introduced me to the writings of J. Bruce Thomson and other pioneers in this field; and finally I, Pierre Rivière, having slaughtered my mother, my sister and my brother (Bison Books, 1982), edited by Michel Foucault.

I am also grateful to Applecross historian Iain MacLennan, both for the wealth of information contained in his book, Applecross and Its Hinterland: A Historical Miscellany (Applecross Historical Society, 2010) and for his generous responses to my emails. Gordon Cameron, curator of the Applecross Heritage Centre, has been similarly generous with his time and provided me with the text of the song ‘Coille Mhùiridh’, composed in the 1820s by Donald MacRae. The English translation is, I believe, by Roy Wentworth. The translation of ‘Càrn nan Uaighean’ was suggested to me by Francis and Kevin MacNeil.

I should also note a debt to the Sermons of Reverend Angus Galbraith (1837–1909), which inspired the funeral oration of his namesake in this book. James Galbraith’s ‘police statement’ also paraphrases the words of the Reverend John Mackenzie of the Parish of Lochcarron, who wrote in his ‘Statistical Account’ of 1840: ‘Not farther back than the middle of the last century, the inhabitants of this district were involved in the most dissolute barbarity. The records of presbytery, which commence in 1724, are stained with an account of black and bloody crimes, exhibiting a picture of wildness, ferocity and gross indulgence, consistent only with a state of savagism.’

James Bruce Thomson (1810–1873) was a real person and the articles mentioned in the text can be found online. The theories propounded by Mr Thomson in the novel are closely based on these articles, but his personality and character are the products of my imagination, as is his memoir. The character of John Murdoch is likewise loosely based on the radical reformer (1818–1903) of that name.

In 2013 I won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award and I am greatly indebted to this organisation for the fantastic support and encouragement they have given me during the writing of this book. I would also like to thank the always helpful staff of the Mitchell Library in Glasgow and the National Archive of Scotland in Edinburgh.

Despite all the help and advice I have received, I do not claim to be an expert either on the period in which this book is set or on the Highland way of life in general. This is a novel and as such I have taken some liberties with historical fact and, at some points, as novelists do, made stuff up. Needless to say, any inaccuracies, whether by design or error, are entirely my own responsibility.

I am deeply grateful to my publisher, Sara Hunt, for her wonderful enthusiasm, generosity and support throughout the writing of this book. Also to Craig Hillsley for his meticulous and sensitive editing.

On a personal note, this book would not have come into being were it not for the frequent visits I made to Wester Ross both in my childhood and as an adult, and for this gift I am hugely grateful to my parents, Gilmour and Primrose Burnet. I must also thank my great friend and sounding-board-in-chief, Victoria Evans, who is always generous with her time and whose notes are always pertinent and astute.

Finally, to Jen: thank you for your patience, encouragement and for putting up with my sulks. Like Una Macrae, you are the sunlight that nurtures the crops.