Woman of Glenshiels

This impassioned industrial novel, published in 1935, is set in a small town near Glasgow in the first three decades of the 20th century. It's a sequel to the 1932 novel Glenshiels. The strong-willed central character, Mary Bassett, leaves school in 1908 at the age of 14 to begin work in the local meat factory. In the coming-of-age section of the novel, she grapples with the socialism of her boyfriend Donald. He overcomes conscientious objections to militarism and volunteers for the Western Front. At the end of the novel she speaks defiantly to her son, like a soldier having experienced a crushing defeat: “We willna stop fighting... us wha are the fighters.” All that she has been striving for as an adult life (all her economic ambitions) are lost and she begins to accept Donald’s socialist arguments about the class struggle.

The author, Lennox Kerr (born 1 July 1899), grew up in Paisley, near Glasgow. Like the heroine of this novel, he left school at the age of 14 to work in the local meat factory. In 1915, however, claiming to be 18 years old, he enlisted in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. He remained overseas until 1930. His first book, an account of some of his travels, was published in the same year. He went on to write 23 books for adults, including an autobiography, and 32 books for children (mostly using the pseudonym Peter Dawlish). Among these books were two historical accounts of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve.

As the central character Mary's boyfriend Donald prepares to leave for the Western Front, there are many similar scenes of farewell at the central station in Glasgow:
“Central Station was crowded with soldiers and sailors and their wives and parents. All over the station stood little groups of people and in the centre of every group was a soldier or sailor. Mostly they were laughing and joking. One group of men were drinking. The whisky bottles kept rising and pointing their bases upwards and then lowering. This group started singing and shouting.
Donald and Mary walked soberly to the train. Donald searched the length of the train but could find no seat. Every carriage was packed with kit-bags. He left his pack in the corridor and returned to Mary.
‘Looks like this'll be a wet passage,” he said, and smiled.
‘Hauf the fellas are drunk already.’
Mary was shocked. It was like laughing at a funeral, though she didn't have that simile.
‘It's a shame,’ she said. ‘And them goan tae France.’
Donald smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Maybe that’s why.’ ”