Machine Without Horses: A Novel

Afterwards, she takes a break, because Machine Without Horses is such an exhilarating dance for Megan that she needs some space between it and the next dance she enters. She likes to feel the residue of it in her body for as long as it will linger.

Megan Boyd and Patch

Machine Without Horses is not your average read: The first half begins with author Helen Humphreys considering the little information she has about real life celebrated salmon-fly dresser Megan Boyd (who was awarded the British Empire Medal by Queen Elizabeth II, and who counted Prince Charles among her friends and clients), and by explaining the authorial process of turning data points into fiction, and relaying a plot that mostly consists of Humphreys learning how to tie a salmon fly for herself, Humphreys is able to conflate herself with Boyd, conflate the solitary and exacting work of writing with fly tying, and although I have no idea how true-to-life this section is, it's a satisfying look at Humphreys and her processes:

Starting a book is like starting a love affair, it demands full and tireless attention or feelings could change. Commitment takes time, and so there must be a rush of passions at the beginning. This means that the other life of the writer, the “real life”, has to fade into the background for a while. In the past I have found this difficult, but now it is a relief. At the moment, real life is overrated and I am happy to think about River Brora and to imagine Megan's childhood near it.

Explaining that the liberties she intends to take with Boyd's story necessitate a change of name, Part Two of the book is the life story of “Ruth Thomas”, celebrated salmon-fly dresser (recognised by QEII, befriended by HRH, etc.), and the reader gets the opportunity to see how the author delivers on the guesses and suppositions that she had made in the first part. The whole thing makes for an engaging read, and as Humphreys adds a twist of tinsel and a shaving of plume to the fish hook of the known facts, what is created is as complex and as lovely as one of Megan Boyd's flies:

Boyd's flies

If I had a complaint, it would be the too frequent use of salmon-related metaphors (young Ruth dodged through the fields like a salmon swimming upstream, a pregnant woman's belly flutters like a salmon in the river), and even if the fly-tying instructor in the first part encouraged Humphreys to focus on the relationship that Boyd had with the salmon as she did her work, the final passage went too far for me: 

And when death comes then for Ruth, it comes as one of her salmon flies, arcing through the darkness towards her. She shudders her whole body up to meet it, opens her mouth. Swallows it whole.

I do like the lyricism of that, but it's one metaphor too far for me. Overall, I really appreciate the intent and execution of this project; it doesn't take long to read, and I was equally interested in learning about Megan Boyd and about Humphreys herself.