Remembering Eunice Buchanan

Some thoughts on Eunice Buchanan (18 May 1931-15 June 2026) by her publisher, the poet and novelist James Robertson.

This is an edited version of a piece that was read out at a service celebrating Eunice’s life, held in Australia on 27 August 2026.

I was first made aware of Eunice’s writing in 2012, three years after she had completed her PhD at the University of Glasgow under the supervision of the poet Tom Leonard. Tom contacted me because he thought I would be interested in Eunice’s poetry, and especially in her use of the Scots language she grew up speaking and listening to in her home town of Arbroath.

Tom held strong views about the way language is shaped by class and power structures. He resisted language being pigeon-holed by educators and others into categories like ‘correct’, ‘dialect’ or ‘slang’, and was highly sceptical of arguments about whether Scots is a dialect of English or a separate language. To him, it was all language, and everybody’s voice was as ‘correct’ and of as equal value as anybody else’s. But he introduced me to Eunice because he knew I had a deep interest in Scots, and he clearly recognised the richness of the Angus Scots that was part of her being. But Eunice, a retired teacher, also spoke and wrote in immaculately ‘correct’ English depending on the circumstances.

Eunice told me that she and Tom used to have robust discussions about language in general and Scots in particular. Taking him on required a certain amount of courage even if you were, as Eunice was, thirteen years his senior. To courage I would add intelligence, confidence and thrawnness: I think there was mutual respect between them and that they recognised some shared characteristics in each other.

Eunice’s PhD thesis is a mix of great creative imagination and incisive social and cultural perception, connecting language and literature to real, everyday existence. Tom was, I am sure, a great encourager as a supervisor, and he appreciated what she was doing. ‘This is the work of a woman who has something to report from, and ask of, her time in the world; and she has done both with wonderful skill,’ he wrote in a blurb for her book, As Far As I Can See.

I was bowled over by Eunice’s poems, whether they were in English or Scots, and we met to discuss the possibility of assembling some of them into a collection. She had already had several poems published in magazines, journals and anthologies. I had set up a pamphlet-publishing imprint in 1999 but at that time had only published one ‘proper’ book. To publish her entire PhD was beyond my resources, so we made a selection of her poetry, added in one of her short stories, and at the end of 2012 published 300 copies of a 90-page book, As Far As I Can See: Selected Poems and a Tale.  The tale, by the way, called ‘Sin’, is a brilliant reworking of the Bible’s creation myth, from the point of view of the Serpent who, surprisingly – or maybe not – is a fluent Scots speaker.

From 2009, for a decade, Eunice spent six months of the year in her flat in Arbroath and six months with her daughter and her family in Victoria, Australia (where she eventually settled permanently). Whenever Eunice and I met we had splendidly wide-ranging, sparky conversations about anything and everything, usually over coffee and some cake. I had a sense that she always thought through what she wanted to say before she said it, a good lesson perhaps for the many children she nurtured in her teaching career. I can only imagine that she was a firm but fair teacher who looked for and brought out the best in her pupils.

As Far As I Can See sold steadily, especially after it shared the First Book of the Year prize at the Saltire Society Literary Awards in 2013. Since then it has sold out completely. It’s a wonderful thing to publish your first book at any age, but to do so in your eighties, let alone win a prize for it, is a special achievement. Eunice was, I think, quietly pleased, but in her typical east-coast way she didn’t go overboard. To quote one of her lines, she was always careful to ‘watch yer manners!’

I am proud to have been Eunice’s publisher. She is now recognised, by those of us who care about such things, as an original and significant contributor to her country’s literature. Her voice, whether she writes in English or Scots, poetry or prose, is curious, challenging, humorous and serious – sometimes all on the same page. Her eye for detail, whether looking at human behaviour or the wider natural world, is truly impressive, but then she was an impressive woman in many ways. Her observational skills are acute, and she knows the art of saying just enough and leaving the rest to the reader. Please note the present tense: she is with us now for as long as people read books; and of course her beautiful Angus Scots was a delight to listen to and, as long as Scots is understood, will be a delight for others to read.

I’ve been revisiting As Far As I Can See since she died and enjoying it all over again, and it has brought back a whole bunch of memories, all good, about its author. I feel privileged to have known Eunice Buchanan and thank her daughter Kate for giving me the opportunity to write these words about her.