Remembering – and celebrating - Elizabeth Sutherland
by Cynthia Rogerson and Lizzie McDougall
On September 14th, 2022, Ross-shire lost one of its most loved writers: Elizabeth Sutherland, otherwise known as Betty Marshall, who died peacefully in Raigmore Hospital at the age of 96. Presented with a Saltire Award in 2019 in recognition of her contribution to the cultural life of the Highlands, Elizabeth’s published work covered diverse genres. She continued to write with energy and enthusiasm into her tenth decade (see the profile by Cynthia Rogerson in Northwords Now 37, available through our online archive). She was also an inspiration to many other people, described by Robert Davidson of Sandstone Press as “one of our great makars, mentors and spirit guides.”
In honour of her life and legacy, Cynthia Rogerson and Lizzie McDougall – themselves long-valued and respected for their writing, storytelling and artistic guidance to others in the Highlands – share their memories of Elizabeth as both a friend and an inspirational character.
Cynthia Rogerson:
How to sum up a long life? One of three sisters, Elizabeth was born August 24th 1926 in Fife, the child of an Orcadian Episcopal priest and a Fife mother. She gained a degree in social work from University of Edinburgh, which is where she met her future husband, a curate. They married in St Andrew’s in Fortrose when she was 21 and lived in Kenya, where he was an Army Chaplain. Later she helped him in the parishes of Orkney, Galashiels, Fortrose and Glasgow. Finally she moved to Rosemarkie, where she lived out the rest of her life. Mother of three, she had seven grandchildren and 16 great grandchildren.
Somehow, while working alongside her husband in the parishes and raising her children, she found time to write. Waterstones list 26 of her books, but she wrote more, in addition to booklets, articles, short stories and comic strips for Judy comics. The books cover a wide range of subjects, but a recurrent theme is the hidden or spiritual life under the world we move through, and the power of compassion. Like Graham Greene, her faith imbued her writing in the widest possible sense, which is why readers of all backgrounds and beliefs feel she is writing just for them.
But everyone is more complex than the sum of their achievements. Her son Michael, in his eulogy, described her as someone whose fundamental philosophy was to practise kindness. Wife, daughter and granddaughter of clergy, she once told me she’d have been a priest too if she’d been a boy. She said this wistfully, but it occurs to me now that in every way that matters, she was a priest after all. She ministered all her life to people’s needs. As a child, parent, sibling, friend, neighbour, she was – as her son said - the soul of kindness, always ready to listen, to counsel and comfort, to share laughter or tears. And as a writer, she injected morality into every narrative.
I knew her as a fellow writer who encouraged me when I was at the wobbly beginning of my career. We met for occasional lunches and coffees over a quarter century, and now she is gone, this much seems clear: Elizabeth was a force for good in the world. We need to honour such people. Note their contributions and heed their advice, even if it is not overt. Her absence will be felt in a myriad kitchens, churches, writing arenas, cafes, beaches – and by her readers all over the world. I will miss her intelligent conversation, her humour and empathy. As for her twinkling eyes and famous smile, well! Just remembering them makes me happy.
Lizzie McDougall:
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes she will have music wherever she goes.
Well, not exactly of course, but Elizabeth was a wonderful woman/very fine lady and at one time wore lots of rings on her fingers. And it was of course stories she found wherever she went.
Her ever-youthful enthusiasm for uncovering and discovering the stories, history and mystery of her surroundings and sharing this through her eloquent writing and storytelling, brought wherever she lived alive. We in the Highlands are especially fortunate, as she shared her discoveries of Faith, Folktales, People, Picts, Saints and Seers.
I am beyond grateful to her as both friend and storyteller. She was a guiding light, inspiration and colleague on many an exciting story based project for over 30 years. I can just about accept that at 96 her body was frail and tired... but... her being was as bright and caring as ever, glinting like her eyes and the silver rings she once wore.
Our first project together was about the Brahan Seer; she wrote the commentary for updated editions of Alexander Mackenzie’s Prophecies of The Brahan Seer, as well as two novels The Seer of Kintail and Ravens and Black Rain. Her empathy, interest in second sight and her explorations of faith give exceptional depth to the story.
She provided a beautifully simple version of the Brahan Seer story for a wee animated film made with children from the Black Isle by West Highland Animations in my barn at Conon Brae. The story ends at Chanonry Point, where the Seer looks up to see a raven and a dove circling in the sky above his fated fire. While we worked on the film, a dove appeared each day on the roof of the barn. The film won an award and is still shown at Groam House Museum. Later she was a core contributor to the Seer Festival and its legacy of four standing stones inscribed with words attributed to the Seer and set in four locations, including at Brahan.
Elizabeth was fascinated by our Pictish ancestors and had a knack of being present when fragments of Pictish stones were uncovered . Her book In Search of The Picts seeks an understanding of what they believed by exploring the imagery for clues to the stories they illustrate. The Nigg Stone, for instance, has an illustration of a 4th century story from Egypt, showing the Desert Fathers who were brought a loaf of bread by a raven in a symbol of the Eucharist.
In 1997 we did a show to celebrate Columba’s meeting with King Brude, High King of the Picts: The Eagle and The Dove. Elizabeth wrote the story and Martyn Bennett wrote the music to express this extraordinary meeting and birth of the Celtic church. More recently, I did illustrations for her wee book of Saint Columba and The Monstrouse Wurrrm.
Another fabulous project was The Sounding of the Carnyx with John Kenny on top of Knockfarrel . As we sat on top of the hill, Elizabeth told us tales the Picts would have told.
In 2019 she contributed stories from around the NC 500 to a project to inspire arts and craft pupils I was working with, to create a Storymap exhibition of Elizabeth’s stories with the pupil’s illustrations.
During my last visit, just a fortnight before she died, we discussed whether it was ok to adapt the ending of a Hugh Miller tale for today's children. She gave her blessing, telling me that a living tradition embraces change and that she liked my new ending.
On the morning I heard of her having left this world, I had to go to the school where I was working on a music project inspired by the Hugh Miller story I had been discussing with her. The children listened so well, and then I got to the (new) end: “if the light is shining in just the right way and you are very lucky, it is just possible you may get a glimpse of them (the Black Isle Fairies).”
Although my eyes were shiny with the tears I had to hold back, I could see in the sparkle in the children’s eyes an enthusiasm that will inspire them in future to look for the fairies and the sleeping lady Giant who made Ben Wyvis. I will forever thank Elizabeth for her loving care and beautiful gift of bringing this world alive.
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