Nature’s pitiless grandeur.
Shepherd, a novelist, wanted to understand the “essential nature” of the Cairngorm Mountains, near her home in Scotland, but recognized that it might be “a tale too slow for the impatience of our age.” Though such feelings couldn’t sound more current, she penned them during World War II. After fleeting attempts to publish back then, she set this book aside until 1977, when a university press published it; she died in 1981. In this slightly expanded American edition, Shepherd’s perspective, which prioritizes sensory observations over geological particulars, loses none of its resonance. More hiker than climber, she begins on a lichen-lined plateau, going vertical amid “tangles of ice” on “rose-red” cliffs. Looking at a loch far below, she’s “on a mighty shelf, above the world.” Shepherd doesn’t soft-peddle nature’s ruthlessness. An eagle hunting for food is “the very terror of strength”; to stand inside a cloud is to confront a frightening void. Neither does she ignore interesting historical facts; Cairngorm forestland was first cut in the 19th century, when Scotland needed wood during the Napoleonic Wars. Mainly, though, Shepherd focuses on qualities that are beyond measure. Why do plant species largely eradicated by glaciers flourish in the Cairngorms? Did those combative stags she spotted—their antlers interlocked and unable to free themselves—battle to the death? The answers elude her, and she’s OK with that. Though very short, this book still feels padded, with a long introduction by Robert Macfarlane, first published in a 2011 Scottish edition, and a new afterword by Jenny Odell. Macfarlane, who spent part of his childhood in the Cairngorms, deems this a classic with few peers. While this might be hometown boosterism, there’s no denying that Shepherd’s prose reaches considerable heights.
Long shelved by its author, an ode to a mountain range’s mysteries proves timeless.