Scottish Storytelling Centre, High Street, Edinburgh, 24 October – 1 November 2008

Bob Pegg

FOR SOME years this autumn festival has used a chosen theme to present some of the storytelling from different regions of Scotland alongside exponents from anywhere in the world. Northlands and Sagalands puts firm Scandinavian emphasis on the 2008 event.

Visitors represent Sweden, Norway and Iceland but also an Innuit culture from Alaska and representatives from key points along the Norse sea-routes. So John Hamilton, a man who splices yarns together, travelled from Northern Ireland, and other tellers will come from France and beyond.

The first night set the tone well. Lawrence Tulloch isn’t from the very top of Scotland but Yell comes pretty close to that. Tom Muir has a foot in both towns of Orkney and more than a toe in its waters, judging from his extensive repertoire of Selkie stories. These two have done much to re-make the links with Sweden, Norway and Iceland. They are a fine yin and yang offset to each other’s voices.

Storytelling, let’s be clear, is an improvised form. If it’s a stable text it isn’t really storytelling. Like a sea-route, it’s subject to the sway of tide. So, perhaps like some jazz music, the audience is an active participant in the performance.

Tulloch learned many of his stories from his father, a man recorded, fortunately, by the School of Scottish Studies. His own modified but very clear Shetlandic voice outlines an incident with authority. The narrative drives on but there is a pause for a flourish of language here and there, a full-on description of something usually grotesque.

Sometimes the bizarre edge comes close to Monty Python animation and the deadpan narrator can’t avoid a small guffaw escaping like steam. But the audience is with him all the way. He has the knack of making the stage his own kitchen. He holds court but then relinquishes the chair.

Tom Muir has a bold Orcadian twang and again is a very clear speaker. His manner seems at first a bit more measured; considered. Before long the asides become a bit more elaborate and the dry humour bites. Long tales are usually high risk at such sessions. Learned traditions are often better in books. But Muir was at ease and held his gaze and his nerve.

You followed him through the twists and turns of an archetypal tale that took you to undersea worlds and dubious crusades. Love and ambition were held in tension and the humane sentiments of his audience were appealed to, in the quest for some justice.

The après-story session on Saturday night went for shorter punchy gags. A Swedish man billed as a genuine Viking, Jerker Fahlstrom, could have suggested another big saga. But he judged his moment perfectly and delivered a spirited funny creation tale. A guest-spot from a fine singer called Glynnis gave us the crisp narrative of ‘Tam Lin’ in a haunting style. So this was a real open session to set the tone for a week and a bit.

The programme leaves space for such happenstance but balances it with analysis. The poet and anthropologist Tom Lowenstein delivered an arresting portrait of an Innuit community undergoing a crisis of change, while the Bruford memorial lecture on Monday focused on folk legends of walking corpses in Iceland.

Other programmed highlights to look out for include Bob Pegg and Tom Muir (28 October), Jerker Fahlstrom’s Viking Tales (29 October) and two Norwegian women tellers (29 and 30 October), but come to Edinburgh and catch the informal sessions too.

An outreach programme takes the Festival out to different parts of Scotland including sessions in Oban Library and Cragnish Hall, Ardfern, in Inverary and in Mull.

© Ian Stephen, 2008

Links

• Scottish Storytelling centre