Before offering any remarks about the specific task of translating Robert Falconer, or indeed about the reasons for undertaking such a task, I cannot forego the opportunity of commenting upon the merits of the book itself, and the special place it has in my own affections. About a decade has passed since I bought a copy of the novel in Aberdeen, the city where George MacDonald studied for his first degree, and in which certain key portions of the story are set. It was my first taste of MacDonald, beyond the frequent quotations offered in the works of C.S. Lewis, who famously called the Huntly author his “master”. Much like Lewis’ own initial experience of reading MacDonald, I felt that in embarking upon this fictional journey with Robert, the story’s hero, I was crossing “a great frontier,” though I did not have to journey into fairy-land, nor even leave Scotland to do so.

Ever since that first reading, I have always considered Robert Falconer to be as much a “double story” as MacDonald’s classic fairy-tale The Wise Woman. It revolves around a twin-search by the hero: one after his prodigal earthly father , whom he barely remembers to have seen, the other in pursuit of a Heavenly Father through the densest of theological fogs, engendered by the well-meaning religious instruction of his Calvinist grannie. All this, of course, is to anticipate, and I will add nothing more, except to say that the odyssey left me spellbound, and that here I found the essence of MacDonald’s spiritual vision encapsulated in a soaring work of fiction (soaring like the notes of Robert’s cherished violin): namely that “Fatherhood is at the great world’s core.”

The translation itself has been a labour of love, not least because of the strong personal connection I feel to the story. If, as I hope, Robert Falconer becomes the first of many MacDonald novels I have the privilege of translating, then for me there is no better starting place.

The parallel Scots-English text offered here was not the original idea for this edition: we had at first envisioned a conventional rendering from the former tongue to the latter, which would have nearly dispensed with the Scots altogether. The retention of the odd Scots turn of phrase, and a very occasional word from the “mother-tongue” were to have been the sole concessions, since accessibility was to be the prime focus: however, the total exclusion of the language employed by MacDonald himself, the North East Doric of his homeland, always seemed too great a sacrifice to be contentedly borne, and the two-column side-by-side Scots/English format of this edition has been the happy result. Such an approach has enabled me to make the translated portions of the dialogue (the right-hand column) more unambiguously English, though a keen observer may still note a certain quaintness in the syntactical arrangement, common to Scots and older English, which I believe will not interfere with ease of reading, even for those completely unacquainted with Broad Scots. The reader will notice that whilst the Scots and English dialogue has been split into left-hand/right-hand columns, the portions of dialogue which were written originally in English have sometimes been added to both columns (if they occur in the midst of dialogue in Scots.)

I have taken advantage of the parallel text by selecting English words or phrases which at least bear some resemblance to their Scots counterparts whenever this approach has been consistent with the flow of the dialogue. In this way, I have afforded any reader who wishes to follow the translation process the opportunity to do so in something approximating a step-by-step manner, by comparing the left and right columns. This being understood, I have not carried the point too far, and certain Scots words, which have no direct English equivalent, I have taken the liberty of translating variously throughout the novel, depending on context. This an exclamation like “Hoots!” I have rendered several times as “Heavens!” in English, while on at least one occasion I have chosen “My!” and once or twice have omitted any translation, none seeming to fit the English as “Hoots!” fits the Scots. Likewise with the suggestive “Och Hone!” (and “ohone”) favoured by Mrs. Falconer: the more literal translation, “Alas!”, I have reserved for occasions of true pathos, but have again settled upon “My!” when the occasion suggested a milder English word. Another oft-repeated phrase from the lips of Robert’s grannie is “Noo, be douce”: literally, “Now, be sober.” Unlike the former examples, the word “douce” lends itself to relatively unproblematic translation, and although like most words its meaning can be subject to nuances (‘sensible” might work as well as ‘sober” in a given sentence), I have chosen uniformity in my approach here (at least when Mrs. Falconer is a addressing the boys), since sobriety is such a hallmark of her life and religious outlook. When another character is speaking, or when Mrs. falconer is instructing Betty rather than her young charges, I have selected alternative English words, such as the aforementioned “sensible” to reflect the Scots “douce” or “dooce.”

Now I come to the reasons for offering this new edition in the first place, and I believe I may speak on behalf of my partners in the project in identifying at least three: the first, as mentioned already, is simply ease of understanding, since the majority of readers will not be native Scots, or Scots-speakers (the character of Eric Ericson will show that the distinction is a necessary one.) Second-and of course this objective overlaps with and may be facilitated by the first-there is the hope of brining MacDonald to a wider audience. C.S. Lewis lamented the fact that insufficient attention had been paid, even by those who enjoyed his own books, to the man he credited with so much of their inspiration, and even went so far as to compile an anthology of MacDonald quotes to redress the oversight. Third, there is the book’s message. While there are a host of reasons to recommend both Robert Falconer and its author, the latter saw his place in the world principally as a communicator of truth, and whether from the pulpit, or in the pages of any of his various novels, poems, or sermons, that is what he remained. If spiritual realities be communicable through creative gifts, then MacDonald, unique talented storyteller and mythmaker as he was, was ideally fitted to convey them. The content of his message I leave the reader to discover for himself, but that he will find a great deal of entertainment as well as instruction along the way I have little doubt; and indeed if he is able to refrain from both laughter and tears in their proper places, it will not be for want of occasion.

The artwork of Leighton Isaacs, illustrator of this edition, would enrich any novel, but I have come to associate it closely with the words of MacDonald, and am delighted that such is the case here. It is therefore with an enthusiasm to match the most expectant reader that I look forward to sampling Robert Falconer afresh and, fancifully imagining that the whole story might assume musical form, I take the advice of the fiddling cobbler Dooble Sanny to “pit my sowl in my lugs an’ hearken!” (“put my soul in my ears and hearken!”)