Well worth the weight

There is no comfortable way to read or appreciate this vast book without the benefit of a lectern. How many households now possess such a thing? I certainly don’t, and the frustration that this immediately caused — it’s hard enough to pick the book up in one hand, let alone hold it balanced to peruse — almost turned me against what is in fact a well-written and sumptuously illustrated account of one of the best 20th-century British artists. For those of less forbearing a kidney, it might be better to saw the thing in half down the spine and enjoy two (relatively) manageable volumes for the price of one.

The price, by the way, is very competitive indeed for a tome extending to more than 500 large pages and including 400 colour plates, not to mention 100 in black- and-white. And the text is typical of the author’s easy authority and candour. Norbert Lynton is an assured presenter of a subject in which he is expert — this book has been nine years in the making — and he reveals Scott to us with a fund of information, interpretation and anecdote. However, in his concern to provide historical and cultural context, Lynton perhaps widens his frame too far: the book is at times in danger of becoming a history of British Modernism.

William Scott (1913-89) was born in Greenock of mingled Irish and Scots descent, the son of a house- and sign-painter. When he was 11 the family moved back to Enniskillen, where his father was accidentally killed during an act of bravery three years later. Young William was suddenly the head of the family, and a promising career as an artist (he was fortunate to have an encouraging early teacher) was nearly cut short by lack of funds.