THE GLASS HOUSE

At the turn of the 20th century, the stultified equilibrium in a Scottish manor is thrown out of kilter when a “stranger” appears at the door in Colin’s posthumously published novel.

Antonia McCulloch, the apparent heiress to Balmarra House—her father’s expansive estate in the west of Scotland—lives a quiet life there with her barrister husband, Malcolm, and a dwindling staff of household help. The once-grand manor of Edward Pick, who made his fortune in tobacco and sugar and was an avid amateur horticulturalist, Balmarra has fallen into disrepair since his death but for the spectacular glass house (a greenhouse to Americans) that is the property’s, and the novel’s, centerpiece. Antonia’s only sibling, George, decamped years before for a life of trekking and botanical exploration in India, heightening Antonia’s resentment at the strictures put upon her: a lack of higher education, a thwarted artistic career, and a dreary routine of domesticity. When George’s beautiful and enigmatic wife, Cicely, and young daughter, Kitty, arrive from Darjeeling for an unannounced stay at Balmarra, Antonia’s frumpish existence is challenged, as is her understanding of her family’s history, during the ensuing competition for the estate’s ownership. Cicely’s mixed racial heritage becomes the basis of gossip and discussion among other local landowners and, ultimately, becomes the sympathetically handled focus of a crucial point in Colin’s jam-packed, Byzantine storyline. Descriptions of the world beyond Balmarra, including lush Eastern landscapes and the rare subjects of botanical quests and obsessions, are complemented by eloquent descriptions of the beauty of the Scottish countryside and coastline (and contrast with the inhumanity that is the source of ugliness and misunderstanding).

Colin’s meandering tale has room for surprises, suspense, and soul-searching in its journey toward a cinematic conclusion.