In September 1939, groups of horsemen in battledress cantered down a broad, grassy plain on the western edge of Europe. The young men of the Western Isles were going to war again. They included a tall, shy 24-year-old called Angus MacPhee (1916-97). Angus returned from war alive but in chronic mental pain and was referred to the asylum in Inverness, where he spent the next 50 years of his life there. During his time at Craig Dunain Hospital, he retreated into his own silent world, and did not speak again until shortly before his death. But 'the quiet big man' as he was known spent his time creating a huge number of objects out of woven grass, sheep's wool and beach leaves - mostly clothes, caps and hats - which he then let decay or deliberately burned. Only when an art therapist discovered him and his miraculous creations were some of them preserved for posterity. And only then did Angus MacPhee come home to South Uist, where he died a year later. The Silent Weaver is a rich,...

In 1918, as the First World War was drawing to a close, the eminent liberal industrial Lord Leverhulme bought - lock, stock and barrel - the Hebridean island of Lewis. His intention was to revolutionise the lives and environments of its 30,000 people, and those of neighbouring Harris, which he shortly added to his estate. For the next five years a state of conflict reigned in the Hebrides. Island seamen and servicemen returned from the war to discover a new landlord whose declared aim was to uproot their identity as independent crofter/fishermen and turn them into tenured wage-owners. They fought back, and this is the story of that fight. The confrontation resulted in riot and land seizure and imprisonment for the islanders and the ultimate defeat for one of the most powerful men of his day. The Soap Man paints a beguiling portrait of the driven figure of Lord Leverhulme, but also looks for the first time at the infantry of his opposition: the men and women of Lewis and Harris...

'. . . wonderful, elegant and serious,' – The Telegraph. 'MacLeod defied powers outwith his control in the only way he could . . . paints a compelling picture of the man' – Sunday Times. ' An incredible testament to one man's determination' – The Sunday Herald. 'It's inspiring to read about a man who wouldn't succumb, wouldn't let the Government threaten his way of life' – Publishing News. 'An extraordinary tale' – The Bookseller. 'This is an extraordinarily fine book, and one of the most important books to have come out of the Highlands and Islands in recent years' – West Highland Free Press. Calum MacLeod had lived on the northern point of Raasay since his birth in 1911. He tended the Rona lighthouse at the very tip of his little archipelago, until semi-automation in 1967 reduced his responsibilities. 'So what he decided to do,' says his last neighbour, Donald MacLeod, 'was to build a road out of Arnish in his months off. With a road he...