As Ingrained: The Making of a Craftsman opens, Callum Robinson and his father are trekking deep into a Scottish forest on a quest for timber. As we follow them, we are newcomers in this unfamiliar territory of dappled sunlight, damp air and still silence, surrounded by “hulking Scots pines [that] lurk in their own long shadow.” Along with his woodworking tools, Robinson brings his skills as a wordsmith; his writing is startlingly sensual and as vibrant and lush as the terrain he walks. He evokes the smell and feel of the “dry, earthy, fungal miasma” among the “woodland behemoths” that surround him.
Ingrained is as much the story of these woodlands as it is Robinson’s own journey from wayward teen to impassioned master woodworker. But he didn’t fully understand how much his virtuosic father had taught him, and how much he had, albeit reluctantly, learned, until he left home to find his own way. With his indomitable wife and business partner, Marisa, Robinson opens a storefront in Linlithgow, and business grows quickly—too quickly. Robinson finds himself frustrated behind a desk, fretting over near calamities and financial cliffhangers, instead of a workbench. When he comes to realize he prefers a workshop in the woods over paperwork and corporate bosses, Robinson finds his purpose.
The details are everything here, and in his own devotion to craft, Robinson leaves few out. On that trek deep into the woods, he goes “treasure hunting” at a mill and sorts the sought-after boards by their grain, look and feel. Robinson invites the reader into his workshop to smell the sawdust and wince when learning how a lathe can wreak havoc.
Best of all, thanks to the self-deprecating sense of humor in Robinson’s impressive storytelling, readers come to understand that you don’t need a crafty bone in your body to appreciate and celebrate the work of a master craftsman, or, as Robinson’s father taught him, to respect the creative mind at work. Ingrained makes an excellent case for doing exactly that, whether working with wood, words or, as so beautifully exemplified here, both.
