Away with the Fairies: "The Ninth Child" by Sally Magnusson

The Ninth Child

by Sally Magnusson

A review

Scottish broadcaster Sally Magnusson needs no introduction as a long-time presenter of television and radio programmes, including Panorama and Songs of Praise. She is also known as a writer of non-fiction.  More recently she wrote two books for children featuring Horace the Haggis, before publishing her first novel for adults The Sealwoman’s Gift in 2018.  

The Ninth Child, Magnusson’s second novel, is inspired by a true event in Scottish history – the construction of the Loch Katrine aqueducts, meant to supply fresh water from the loch to the city of Glasgow, thirty-five miles away.   This ambitious project was commenced in 1855 and was inaugurated by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1859.  The protagonist of Magnusson’s story is the fictional Isabel Aird, whose husband Dr Alexander Aird is assigned to the project to cater for the workers’ medical requirements.  Isabel joins her husband and is, at first, not particularly enthusiastic about her new life in the Highlands. She also battles with the pain of consecutive miscarriages.  As she settles down, however, not only does she start to appreciate the countryside and the company of the locals but, inspired by the recent exploits of Florence Nightingale in Crimea, she also nurtures the ambition of working side by side with her husband in the medical profession. 

Magnusson weaves into Isabel’s story the legend associated with the Reverend Robert Kirke (or Kirk), a 17^th Century Scottish Episcopalian minister and Gaelic scholar. Kirke wrote the first complete translation of the Scottish metrical psalms into Gaelic, and was also involved in the publication of one of the earliest Gaelic editions of the Bible, whose printing in London was funded by scientist Robert Boyle.  However, Kirke is nowadays best known for The Secret Commonwealth, a book which he left unpublished at his death.  Its lengthy subtitle gives a good indication of the subject of Kirke’s studies: an Essay on the Nature and Actions of the Subterranean (and for the most part) Invisible People heretofore going under the names of Fauns and Fairies, or the like, among the Low Country Scots as described by those who have second sight.  The fairy realm is hardly the typical area of study of a religious minister, and Kirke’s dubious dabbling in this “occult” fare gave rise to the legend that he was spirited away by the fairies at his death, his body replaced with that of a stranger.  Sir Walter Scott refers to this legend in his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft: Scott, it should be said, published the first edition of The Secret Commonwealth in 1815, more than a century after Kirke’s death.

Magnusson imagines Kirke returning from fairyland and striking up a friendship of sorts with Isabel Aird. Fairies and Elves in Gaelic folklore are hardly the cute spirits found in children’s books, and we soon learn that the sìthichean are asking from Kirke a nefarious deed in return for being released from fairy captivity.

The Ninth Child is a well-researched historical novel with supernatural elements – and it should have been right up my street.  Yet, I struggled to finish it, leaving it to the side for several weeks before returning to it in earnest.  I can’t really put my finger on why this was the case, particularly since so many readers have been really enthusiastic about the novel.  It might be that I simply was not in the mood for it.  That said, I could not shake off the impression that the book was somewhat all over the place.  Isabel’s story is already compelling on its own, and with introduction of Kirke, we get some supernatural frisson as well.  However, Magnusson also introduces several other characters, including historical figures such as Victoria and Albert and scientist and polymath William Rankine.  Their stories and voices intertwine – sometimes in unlikely ways, such as Prince Albert’s meeting with Robert Kirke.   I felt that these subplots sapped the punch from what could have been an interesting and captivating story.

Related to this, there’s also the issue of the multiple and rapidly changing viewpoints.  The novel’s “anchoring” narrative is Isabel’s story, as recounted by Kirsty McEchern, Isabel’s Scottish helper and friend.  However, the novel often switches to omniscient third person narration, showing us scenes between the Airds (and between Queen Victoria and Prince Albert) which, of course, Kirsty would not have been privy to.  We then get Kirke’s ruminations, answered by the fairies’ insolent replies. This, apart from various letters and diary entries of the various figures, some of whom make little more than a cameo appearance.  Again, I felt that this blurred the novel’s focus.

This book then, has plenty to recommend it, but I would have liked it leaner. 

Kindle Edition, 336 pages

Published March 19th 2020 by Two Roads