The Stellar Debut of Galactica MacFee by Alexander McCall Smith
Glasgow for Bertie is the promised land. The city of pies and Irn Bru, far from his controlling mother, Irene – his place of escape. But how will he respond to the news of the proposed merging of Edinburgh and Glasgow? A new member of Bertie’s class at school is causing ripples in his social circle. She is called Galactica MacFee and is going to be a match for Olive and her lieutenant, Pansy. And, an incredible new discovery: a Pictish stone, that is said to have the first-know written poem carved into it is the talk of the town. But, when the poem is eventually translated, it is thought it is best to keep it under wraps. In this new instalment in the perennially popular 44 Scotland Street series, we are back in the world of Angus and Domenico, Bruce, Matthew and Elspeth, and, of course, Bertie and his friend Ranald Braveheart Macpherson.
It’s as entertaining as ever and I never fail to enjoy the genuinely charming and just all-round nice and pleasant tales that McCall Smith weaves around this great group of Edinburgh New Town residents. Bertie and his young friends (and enemies) are smartly and convincingly portrayed as you would hope and the overall feeling is, as previously, at the feel-good end of the spectrum.
However, the never-ending controversy around the pronunciation of the name of my home village continues:
The spelling of Gullane suggests that it should be pronounced gull (as in seagull) and then an (as in the name Anne). The correct pronunciation, though, is gill (as in a fish’s gill), followed by the agreed an. This is on the basis of the origins of the word, which are generally agreed to be Welsh, since, to complicate matters, it was that form of Celtic language that was spoken in the area when the settlement first came into existence. In spite of the linguistic evidence, there are those who insist on what they see as the demotic pronunciation. This leads to significant distress on the part of the linguistic purists and, on more than one occasion, has resulted in the trading of sharp words in the bar at Muirfield, one of the local golf clubs.
Suffice it to say that, once again, the author has got this wrong (just as he did in several previous Scotland Street books, such as this one) and it is surprising that he keeps flogging this particular dead horse.
It doesn’t undermine the overall impact too much though.
Prole Art Threat 