Hugh Foulis

Time capsules. Remember time capsules? In the seventies, there was a trend, actually more of a craze, for putting a load of stuff that today you would probably unload at the local charity shop, or bin, into a box and burying it. The idea was that it would be dug up at some point in the future and whatever lucky archaeologist unearthed it would have a valuable insight into our culture based upon the contents of the capsule, which usually included; a dinky toy, a newspaper and a mix tape, possibly a recording to that week’s top forty with the DJs voice edited out.

All of this nonsense was, of course, rendered pointless with the invention of the internet. Now, not only does the internet provide a sprawling and comprehensive chronicle of important points in history and on-line newspapers, it is also the home of records of breathtaking trivia that make one weep with the energy that has been expended on some topics. You can go on line and not only find nostalgia sites about crisps and snacks, but read the thoughts and reminisces, about snacks, by those who contribute to the sprawling forums.

Centuries hence, any archaeologists studying this record for clues as to the nature of our society will most likely come to the conclusion that as a species, it’s astonishing that we were able to develop something as amazing as the internet, and that we also probably were pretty lucky to have invented the box.

This collection of stories by Neil Munro about the captain and crew of the Clyde puffer ‘Vital Spark’ and their adventures and misadventures plying the coastal trade around Scotland’s Highlands and Islands is a time capsule, and its contents charm and delight in equal measure.

The short short stories originally appeared in the ‘Glasgow Evening News’ on a weekly basis and so are usually three to four pages long. They are perfect miniature delights and, reading them, one can imagine the expectation that the newspaper’s readers would have when looking forward to their weekly fix of the adventures of Para Handy.

The stories are about a world lost to us now, when small cargo boats provided the lifeline to the extended communities strung out along the coastal reaches of Scotland, carrying everything from coal to crockery. The stories are well annotated with a generous and informative notes section at the back of the book explaining either events that were topical at the time but have faded from memory now, or translating the occasional Gallic or slang language.

And the language here is beautiful or, as Para Handy himself might put it, ‘chust sublime’. The characters are as wonderfully drawn as the landscape, from the lazy crewman to the engineer addicted to romance novels, eccentric is probably the best term.

The adventures are of the mild sort, and invariably include the crew seeking to arrange tasks around balls or gatherings at calling points, social occasions that regularly appear to finish at dawn with the Captain rolling home to his vessel with his hat tilted at a fashionable angle on his head.

Because they were written for a newspaper, the stories are perhaps more topical than one might expect, and often feature the events of the period such as an election, or the activities of the crew during the war. As such, they form snapshots of a particular time and slowly a picture builds of up of a way of life not just aboard the Vital Spark but in the communities it serves.

Because of the length of the stories, Munro has crafted them with great care, whether they’re knockabout tales such as ‘The Goat’ or simply the recording of the musings of the crew as in ‘Our Gallant Allies’. He was plainly writing for an audience that were familiar with the issues of the day and with the world of the Vital Spark, but the stories have a freshness and, appropriately enough, a vitality.

Each tale is a gem, each character a treasure, even if the crew might be considered rough diamonds, they would consider themselves gentlemen and master mariners. In this collection, Munro proves himself to be a master short story writer.… (mais)