The Professor of Truth - Couverture rigide

The Professor of Truth is the newest novel by Saltire prizewinner James Robertson. Twenty-one years after his wife and daughter were murdered in the bombing of a plane over Scotland, Alan Tealing, a university lecturer, still does not know the truth of what really happened on that terrible night. Obsessed by the details of what he has come to call The Case, he is sure that the man convicted of the atrocity was not responsible, and that he himself has thus been deprived not only of justice but also of any chance of escape from his enduring grief.When an American intelligence officer, apparently terminally ill and determined to settle his own accounts before death, arrives on his doorstep with information about a key witness in the trial, a fateful sequence of events is set in motion. Alan decides that he must travel to Australia to confront this witness, whose evidence he has always disbelieved, in the hope that this might at last be the breakthrough for which he has waited so long.Praise for The Testament of Gideon Mack: 'The story of a Presbyterian minister who comes back from a near-death experience claiming that he has met the devil, this is both a hugely gripping tale and a fascinating examination of the difference between faith and belief' FT Magazine'A masterly piece of storytelling (and Scottish soul-reaching)' James Naughtie, HeraldPraise for And the Land Lay Still: 'A wonderful novel . . . panoramic, illuminating and compassionate . . . the book represents nothing less than a landmark for the novel in Scotland, and underlines the author's position as one of Britain's best contemporary novelists' Irvine Welsh, Guardian'Bold, discursive and deep, Robertson's sweeping history of life and politics in twentieth-century Scotland should not be ignored' ObserverJames Robertson is the author of four previous novels, The Fanatic, Joseph Knight, The Testament of Gideon Mack and And the Land Lay Still. Joseph Knight was awarded the two major Scottish literary awards in 2003/4 - the Saltire Book of the Year and the Scottish Arts Council Book of the Year - and The Testament of Gideon Mack was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize, picked by Richard and Judy's Book Club, and shortlisted for the Saltire Book of the Year award. And the Land Lay Still was the winner of the Saltire Society Scottish Book of the Year Award 2010.

   When I think of Nilsen now, how he came and vanished again in that one day, I don’t feel any warmer towards him in the remembering than I did when he was here. I don’t even feel grateful for what he gave me, because he and his kind kept it from me for so long. But I do think of the difficult journey he made, and why he made it. What set him off, he told me, was seeing me being interviewed on television, after Khalil Khazar’s death. He said he’d watched the interview over and over. He’d wanted to feel what I felt. But you cannot feel what another person feels. You cannot even imagine it, however hard you try. This I know.
   When Khalil Khazar died, the news went round the world in minutes— in text messages, in e-mails, through social networks, on radio and television, via websites and by telephone. I got the call at home from Patrick Bridger, a BBC journalist I knew and trusted. We’d talked, a week or so before the end, about what we would do and where we would film, knowing that it could not be long. ‘Alan, I’m on my way with a cameraman and a soundman,’ Patrick said. ‘We’ll pick you up and head straight to the location.’ I didn’t take any more calls. I was giving Patrick an exclusive. It was a way of controlling things. 
   While I waited for their car I thought about how the news would be received in different parts of the globe. There would be tears, I knew, but also there would be laughter. There would be grief and jubilation, clasped hands and clenched fists, loud dismay and quiet satisfaction. There would be one family mourning, other families celebrating. Some people would feel a sense of resolution, of justice having been done. Others would feel, as I did, a sense of things unresolved, of justice having not been done. A guilty man or an innocent man had gone to his grave: it depended on your perspective.