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Dorothy Dunnett
A Great Writer. Not for the fainthearted
When I was a teenager, my uncle and aunt gave my whole family one book each. Collectively, they were the six books in the series known as The Lymond Chronicles, by Scottish author Dorothy Dunnett.
My mother devoured them. I read them at a more leisurely pace. I’m not sure that my brother or father, or sisters, were ever interested.
Dunnett is an intense writer. There is not a word that is on the page that is wasted. She assumes her readers can use their brains. If a character is lying or acting out of character, she assumes you will catch on. She does not highlight the jokes. They are there for you to get and laugh at, or completely miss.
Here’s a bit from the opening of The Game of Kings:
The steward asked Hob, in the vernacular, digressing every second or third word, what he wanted.
Hob said he had been told to bring water for the sow.
The steward denied it. Hob insisted. The steward described what instead he might do with the water and Hob described in detail how he had ruined his spine raising the steward’s undistinguished water from the well. Mungo, above, thumped on the floor to stop the racket and the steward, cursing, gave in. He led the way to the apartment beneath the stairs where lived…
