If ever there was a genre we could call Scots Zen, Neil M Gunn was at its forefront. Dipping in and out of the Scots language and philosophical ponderings, the novelist uses this set of short stories to reflect on the many facets of his highland home and bend language to his every whim. The majority of Gunn’s works appeared during the 1920s and ‘30s, seeing the writer through recession and into the aftermath of a world war. In this political landscape he wrote extensively, picking up the James Tait Black Memorial Prize along the way.

Early in his career, Gunn, who later made his name in novels and philosophical essays, published a number of short stories in literary magazines. These have now been collected together in Half Light, a volume made up of near-autobiographical tales touched by the sea and land which shaped the writer’s early life. Beautifully painted, Gunn’s highland home is ever-present in the stories, and often seems like it has a personality all of its own. But at times, and certainly if a reader wishes to read straight through the stories without a healthy pause now and then, this becomes a little too bleak and the meaning is obscured. Where narratives are contained within dreams or other stories, we get lost in between, and the zen of the highlands can turn to a desperation close to suicidal.

This high philosophical awareness means Gunn’s characters are constantly searching for a deeper meaning in the bleak landscape that surrounds them. Whether a pair of academics brought together by a lost pair of black gloves or a child who has just discovered atomic theory, the population of these stories is always looking for more in their dimly-lit world, their inner workings laid bare for us to see as they wait for dawn.