This year’s Book Week Scotland begins with a special contribution from Martin MacIntyre. The author of A Summer Like No Other opens our series with reflections on the sparks that lead to a story, the landscapes that guide his imagination and the pleasure of sharing books with others.


For Colin Quinn, the first-person narrator of my new novel from Luath Press, A Summer Like No Other, the time he spends in South Uist in late May and June 1978 stand out for many reasons: he lives for six weeks with his Barra-born uncle Dr Ruairidh Gillies at a crucial time in both of their lives; he watches lots of football – the World Cup Finals in Argentina and Scotland’s fortunes are a national priority; he also, quite unexpectedly, finds himself collecting Gaelic folklore of the richest variety from an 88-year-old bodach.

A very different summer of ’78 from mine! Firstly, the World Cup was well over by the time I reached South Uist in late July, and at the age of 13 my mind and motivations were very different to that of 20-year-old, drifting, Glasgow University Arts’ student, Colin Quinn. Memories, though, of an enjoyable, good summer weather-wise (but nothing like the uncomfortable scorcher of 1976) and in particular of two houses – my great-aunt’s and my great-uncle’s – fed my imagination as I began to physically imagine and describe both where Colin spent his weeks with Ruairidh in the fictional village of Eòrasdail and where he visits Alasdair in the real village (though populated with entirely fictional characters) of Milton; ‘Geàrraidh Bhailteas is the Gaelic!’, as old Alasdair corrects Colin on their first recording session.

I first wrote the novel in Gaelic. Luath published Samhradh ’78 (The Summer of ’78) in 2018 (40 years from that fateful World Cup!) as part of the Luath Ficsean series; I was delighted when the book was launched in Edinburgh and South Uist and longlisted for the Saltire Fiction Book of the Year. 

Preparing an English language version had its challenges as it is crucial on several levels that we appreciate that Colin is telling us this story in Gaelic. Some of his reasons are only revealed later in the story. I settled for the inclusion of Gaelic phrases (a little more than is usual – to the delight of some general, non-Gaelic readers, it appears, though it did take others a wee while to get used to them) with footnotes. Bi-lingualism and the dynamics of using Gaelic and English also illustrate Colin’s changing identity as a Greenock-born son of a Barra Mum, to becoming a more confident Gaelic-speaking young adult. His increasing use of Gaelic with his uncle, Ruairidh, is also a key feature in their maturing relationship and Colin’s understanding and empathy for his uncle’s challenging situation – a widower in his early 60s, on-call as a GP 24 hours a day on a remote island.