The first time I read Ring of Bright Water must have been the 1980s. I can’t have been more than an early teenager, as evidenced by the faint impression of algebra indented in the book’s front cover, which I must have leant on during homework. It’s in tatters now, the glue of the binding falling away like dandruff from the spine. The title of this piece comes from Kathleen Raine, ‘The Eighth Sphere’, from The Hollow Hill (1965). Gavin Maxwell. Author of Ring of Bright Water. This is an original article separated from an issue of The Book & Magazine Collector publication, 1992.

Tatsächlich hat sich an meiner Meinung über Gavin Maxwell nichts geändert, aber ich konnte seine Suche nach einem Zuhause und sein Verhalten besser verstehen​. Nicht, dass ich gutheißen kann, wie er mit dem Lebewesen, die ihm anvertraut sind, umgeht. Aber ein anderes Verhalten war ihm kaum möglich, denn er hatte es nie anders gelernt.Ah, this is difficult. I had never heard of Ring of Bright Water, nor seen the film and it wasn't until I read Miriam Darlington's excellent Otter Country last year that it came onto my radar. Orchards and places by Common Ground In fact, many of the well known varieties have grown-up purely by chance, from discarded pips or stones. a b c Lister-Kaye, John (4 July 2014). "The Genius of Gavin Maxwell". The Telegraph. Archived from the original on 2 December 2014 . Retrieved 18 November 2014.

But time and time again I was faced with disturbing views and events. Maxwell has been lauded by many as a naturalist, i.e. a man in tune with nature, but for my money, he was nothing of the sort. He was the product of a distorted, euro-centric misunderstanding of the realities of the natural world — and more to the point, the proper role of mankind WITHIN that world, as opposed to having dominion over it. Gavin Maxwell died seven months after I was born. In a parallel universe, I think I would have liked to have sat with a newspaper and a pint at a table in a pub somewhere. Maxwell would be sitting nearby, within earshot, relaxed and happy in the company of some of his less posh friends. I’d be able to listen to what they were gassing on about, and try to get the measure of the man. Then I would step to the bar, buy a whisky (maybe a double) and take it across to Maxwell’s table and place it before him and say, “Thank you, sir. Thank you for writing so well, and for weaving such wonderful stories.” Then I’d nod my head at him and walk out the door into the rain. In 2023, twenty years after her death, I hope that my novel The Rowan Tree (Valley Press) will help to share Kathleen Raine’s story with a new generation. Today, on what would have been her 114 th birthday, let’s shine a light on the woman hidden at the heart of Ring of Bright Water. When Maxwell confided that ‘he could not love me with erotic desire’ [4] –male homosexuality being punishable in 1950s Britain by prison or chemical castration–Raine resolved that their relationship could still survive in a spiritual, Platonic sphere. Her indefatigable support for his writing is clear. Her literary connections were vital in the early years of his career. Most notably, he was first published by New Statesman literary editor Janet Adam Smith, Raine’s dear friend and godmother to her daughter Anna. In reciprocation of sorts, Maxwell shared with Raine his remote Highland cottage Sandaig: a primordial, almost mystical spot nestled between sea, shore and sky, encircled by a silvery burn and with a rowan tree outside the door. Raine stayed at Sandaig frequently and found the landscape a source of profound inspiration, encapsulated by her 1952 Arts Council Poetry Prize-winning collection The Year One. Determined to demonstrate her commitment to Maxwell and their unconventional bond, Raine also took care of his pet otter Mij: their ‘waterbaby’ through whom it seemed ‘Gavin and I were united … in him I loved Gavin; in his love, a part of Gavin loved me, and Gavin through him accepted a part of my love’. [5] ‘We met at last in the heart of an otter,’ Maxwell inscribed Raine’s copy of his first book, Harpoon at a Venture.I wanted to read this after having a go at Miriam Darlington’s Otter Country, which in many ways revolved around this book and the landscape described by Gavin Maxwell. He got much closer to the animals than Darlington, so perhaps it’s not surprising that his account is more interesting and vital. Otters were, not quite pets, but definitely companions for him, in a way that Darlington had no opportunity to understand. The film was released as a region 2 DVD in 2002, [10] and as a region 1 DVD in 2004. [11] Previously, it had been released as a VHS tape in 1981 and 1991. [12] [13] See also [ edit ] Descriptions of the repeated capture of wild-population animals and their subsequent illness and death caused by Maxwell's negligence and unpreparedness ran abundant. And yet he still promoted getting animals because they were cute or pretty. Just get another dog, dude. Now, as it did then, it fills me with a sense of freedom and the deepest empathy for the wildlife, a yearning for nature. But the intervening thirty five years have also given me a new way to interpret Maxwell’s acutely discerning opus.

Mij's inquisitive and adventurous nature leads him some distance from the cottage to a female otter with whom he spends the day. Ignorant of danger, he is caught in a net and nearly killed. The humans find him and help him recover. Graham spends a significant amount of time drawing Mij, but realises that to show the true agility of the otter he must draw it underwater. He builds a large tank out of old windows so that he can do this. But in 1956 after one of several bitter quarrels, bereft at what she believed was Gavin’s rejection of her love and all they had shared, Raine uttered a ‘heart’s cry’ at the Sandaig rowan tree. ‘Let Gavin suffer, in this place, as I am suffering.’ [6] Mij died almost a year later, clubbed by a local villager after escaping while in Raine’s care, and she blamed herself mercilessly for the tragedy. Island of Dreamsis about Boothby's time living there, and about the natural and human history that surrounded him; it's about the people he meets and the stories they tell, and about his engagement with this remote landscape, including the otters that inhabit it. Interspersed with Boothby's own story is a quest to better understand the mysterious Gavin Maxwell.He took us by the hand to a world most of us had never seen, a world that sets the imagination aloft” John Lister-Kaye The first half of this book explains Maxwell's remote property (called Camusfearna in the book, but not its real name) in Scotlands Western Highlands, and explaining in great detail its surroundings, and his peaceful existence there with Jonnie the spaniel. And then somewhat suddenly he introduces his short story about his first otter in Iraq, and then the obtaining of his second otter Mijbil, also from Iraq and the one year and one day spent with him. It explains the steep learning curve both parties went through, with an otter in semi-captivity.

It’s not some adventure story, not such a battle of wills as, for instance, H is for Hawk chronicles. Mostly, it’s worth reading for that delight in nature, described with love and attention to detail. If you’re not interested in autobiography and nature writing, it’s probably not for you. Maxwell had two otters, Mij and Edal, in succession. Edal was adopted by a family while they were in Kenya, and Edal became too much and so landed in Maxwell's world. In the narrative there are many more animals of all sorts that he takes in to study and safeguard. He's a man in love with nature and creatures. This is what still gives me some hope, the realisation that despite the staggering complexity of ecosystem life, any ordinary person can by just looking at nature, form similar and quite accurate views about how nature works. Built within us all is the sense to empathise and understand nature because our intuition is a survival mechanism. Deep down, we all know what we need to do. We need animals to rebuild a habitable planet and as Maxwell puts it, we have since ‘suffered in [our] separation from the soil and from the other living creatures of the world’. What's so disturbing about the ROBW trilogy is that it's not fiction. Like, how would you feel about Lolita if it were an autobiography?I was uncomfortable with the very opening paragraph of Chapter 1 — the image of an otter, a wild creature asleep in Maxwell’s cottage. But I decided to let the matter pass and read on, hoping to arrive at a fair judgment of the book. And to some degree I was not disappointed. The work is literate, well structured and richly illustrated; it offers a highly appealing picture of a truly spectacular place. Forgotten the title or the author of a book? Our BookSleuth is specially designed for you. Visit BookSleuth