Berkley Center

The term “Scots” was coined relatively recently by non-Scottish speakers; Scottish speakers, of course, regarded themselves as speaking English and were surprised to be set apart as their own dialect. Yet as writing entire works in local dialects has become increasingly popular, writers that chose to do so form a movement emphasizing Scots not as an aberration in language, but as one of language’s many norms. Not all writers take up this style, however: either physically or discursively, there are divided impulses towards Scottish nationalism or fitting in with the larger world—staying in Scotland, or moving out.

Janice Galloway’s novel The Trick is to Keep Breathing, while written in a much more Anglo style than Scots, is also about an individual trying to define herself within a backdrop of gender and mental health issues in Scottish society. Inside the pages, I wander through a recognizably disorienting “Christmas-ness” pouring out of everything when the protagonist picks up Tesco groceries, and I understand what her friend abroad in the United States means when she says she can’t understand how the wilderness is so different from Scotland’s, since things seem to be washed in different colors. The novel contains themes tying into a literary trope in which a marginalized character, having little room to develop in her present society, leaves Scotland to go abroad—not to find freedom or for the sake of escapism, but to reclaim herself—so that when she returns to Scotland, she’ll be returning with something new to bring to the community.

When I chose to study abroad, I knew that I would change. But aside from my newfound muscle mass from navigating the hills here (which make Georgetown’s campus look as flat as a digestive biscuit), I can’t see how different I’ve become. Of course, I didn’t think I would break free from who I was in August. I just knew that I would learn things I would have never anticipated upon my arrival, and that’s true enough. But now that the term is nearing a close, other exchange students have been talking about how they’ll have to re-adapt to how things are at home and they’re excitedly listing off their old favorite things to do that they can do again once they leave Scotland. If I “re-adapt,” what am I going to bring back with me upon my return?

A suitcase full of books and beginner’s bagpipe music, for starters. But it’s not just about what I’ll hold onto; as my friends and family from home tell me over Skype that they miss me and can’t wait for me to return, I wonder who I should bring back to them.

Though I’m still piecing it together, I know that I’ll be picking up the same relationships, the same long-term goals, and so on—but perhaps along different routes than before.

For example, I wanted to go into neuroscience research before I studied abroad, and I still want to continue on that path. But when a genetics researcher came to speak at the student union, it occurred to me to ask him about his experiences working internationally with other laboratories and if he had advice on which parts of the world were the best for conducting research in.

His response was open and optimistic: “There are great labs all over the world, so in the end it’s not the place itself that’s important, it’s what you find there. You really can go anywhere in the world that you’d like to.”

I remained quiet, already distracted by the buzz of so many possibilities for the future.

He smiled and said, “I’m not entirely sure why, though, but I decided to stay in Scotland.”