James Robertson is generous with his time as we chat over the phone about everything from writing in Scots to local libraries.
The affable Scottish author is at home in the quiet corner of Angus where he lives with his wife Marianne.
James, 66, has always had stories to tell.
These days, he produces fiction, poetry and short stories written in English and Scots and read across the generations.
He has been involved in every facet of the book trade, from bookselling to publishing and writing fiction, non-fiction and poetry.
The author was born in Kent and his parents were also born in England but three out of his four grandparents were Scottish.
When the family moved to Scotland in the 1960s James was six and he says: “There was a sense that we were coming home.”
The young James Robertson
James has never been in any doubt about the career path he wanted to follow.
“I mean, really, from about the time I could physically write I was writing stories or doing them as comic strips.”
James’ mother signed him, his brother and sister up to the public library and generally instilled a library habit in her children.
“It was a revelation to me,” he recalls.
“I mean, there were quite a lot of books in the house but going to the library was amazing.
Flying the flag for local libraries
For James, those visits to local libraries were integral in nurturing that love of literature.
“When we first arrived in Bridge of Allan, it was the Central Library in Stirling that we went to,” he recalls.
“But then, when I was maybe 10 or 11 years old, they opened a new library at Bridge of Allan.”
We both marvel at the idea of a new library opening and James is obviously an enthusiastic champion of these local facilities.
“I think, for some people, they are still absolutely a lifeline,” he says.
Tools of the writing trade
As a young reader, James was drawn to westerns and adventure tales of every kind.
Those were the stories he chose to write down, initially with a pen and paper and then on an ancient typewriter.
“My dad brought home a huge, very old typewriter, I think they were chucking out where he worked.
“I just loved that idea. You strike a key and and something appears on a sheet of paper and it looks almost like what you see on a book.”
When he was 10 he asked for his own typewriter for Christmas and was chuffed to become the owner of an Imperial Good Companion.
“And I’ve still got that,” he admits. “The tool of my trade. I don’t use it anymore, but I’ve still got it up in the loft – just in case the internet goes down and we all go back to basics.”
School days in Perthshire and beyond
James’ secondary school days were spent at Glenalmond College, before he ruffled a few feathers by turning down a place to read history at Cambridge.
“I hadn’t done particularly well in the entrance exam,” he recalls.
“Then I was interviewed by two extremely intimidating Dons.”
When they asked why he wanted to attend their college, James truthfully replied that his father and uncles had been there.
“As soon as I said that, they said, ‘we’ll see what we can do’.
“When I got home there was a letter offering me a place but I thought: ‘I’m not going on that basis’!”
He decided that a history degree at Edinburgh University was a better fit. He later returned to that establishment to undertake a PhD in 1980.
Award-winning Scottish writing
James Robertson’s list of short stories, novels, poetry collections and books for children is as long as it is varied.
He has won the Saltire Scottish Book of the Year twice (for Joseph Knight and And the Land Lay Still).
James was so frustrated by the process of getting his poetry published that he set up his own company, Kettillonia, in 1999.
Parents, young people and teachers will also be familiar with his Itchy Coo range of books.
Itchy Coo was co-founded with Dundee writer Matthew Fitt and together the pair have produced children’s books in Scots for a wide range of age groups.
James has also translated some modern children’s classics into Scots, including Julia Donaldson’s Gruffalo and Stick Man.
Why does James Robertson champion Scots language writing?
“I spent my first six years in England and my family were English speaking.
“But when I went out in the streets, went to the shops I was hearing something completely different,” James explains: “I was absolutely fascinated by that.
“As I got older, I realised that not only was there a spoken language, but there is this huge literature as well.
“Nobody said anything or was taught anything about it at school with the exception of Burns Night.
“You know, when the Scots language was acceptable for that one day”
Gideon Mack takes to the stage
The Testament of Gideon Mack, the tale of an atheist Church of Scotland Minister who experiences a dalliance with the devil, was released to wide acclaim in 2006.
It was long-listed for that year’s Booker Prize and has now become a much-anticipated play, adapted for the stage by Matthew Zajac of Dogstar Theatre.
As the stage run of his novel comes to a close at Dundee’s Rep Theatre, the reviews have been extremely positive. James is happy to steer the praise towards Dogstar.
“Years ago Matthew said to me that he thought there was a lot of theatrical possibility in the novel.”
“It’s got a great cast, a great creative team,” says James.
How does James Robertson find the time?
James is vague about the projects currently on his desk: a non-fiction work and two novels: “I’m basically superstitious about talking about them.
“I feel if you talk too much about a project before you’ve nailed it you can talk yourself into a corner and end up not being able to do it.
“I have plenty on the desk and in due course they will emerge.”
He does admit that the support of his wife Marianne is indispensable:
“I’ve got a very understanding wife!” he laughs.
“No, she’s actually brilliant. She is my first reader and she is a great critic, a fair critic and I listen very hard to what she says because she is quite often right.”
“She also grew up in the library age, so she’s a great reader.”
James rounds off our chat with a typically positive take on life: “I feel so fortunate that, having wanted to be a writer when I was a six-year-old, I’ve managed to the last 30-odd years to make that happen.
“In fact, if you can make a living doing what your childhood ambition was, that’s pretty good. I’m very grateful for that.”
Conversation