In Finding Manhood in Scotland, Victor Atyas chronicles a man’s raw, restless search for masculinity and meaning through a solo road trip across the Scottish Highlands. Tired of the grind of library work and emotionally bruised by confrontations with disrespectful patrons, Mark decides to ditch comfort and routine for a rugged adventure inspired by historical ghosts, wild landscapes, and spiritual transformation. Mixing memoir, travelogue, and inner dialogue, the book follows him through ancient ruins, ghostly encounters, and soul-baring introspection.

What I liked most is how unfiltered Atyas is. The writing doesn’t try to be neat or tidy. It rambles, loops back, digresses and that’s part of its charm. In the opening chapters, we meet a man teetering on the edge of a midlife crisis, eating a stolen orange from a raven’s talons in Chaco Canyon, getting yelled at by ponytailed New Agers, and quitting his job in a rage after a library patron throws a book at his feet. The narrative is like overhearing someone muttering to themselves in a tent on a rainy night, honest, vivid, sometimes hilarious, and often surprisingly moving. His dream of being scolded by a Renaissance noble, “You are as daring as a rabbit,” perfectly captures the absurdity of self-doubt dressed up in grand metaphors.

At times, the book dives into emotionally raw territory, exploring moments of vulnerability and intense personal reaction. When Mark suspects a group of gypsies of stealing his laundry, his response is intense, shaped by years of suppressed anger and buried feelings of inadequacy. What stands out, though, is how he doesn’t shy away from examining these emotions. He confronts his own inner turmoil head-on, turning the episode into a moment of self-awareness. Rather than gloss over his flaws, Mark lays them bare, giving the story an honest, confessional quality that adds to its emotional depth.

One of the best sections is his eerie, almost mystical encounter with what he believes are Pictish ghosts at a fog-shrouded lake. He drives through mist, argues with a hallucinated version of a woman who robbed him, and is finally told by an inner voice to press forward. That moment, “Not even God Himself could have stopped me,” lands hard. He’s ridiculous, brave, and tragic all at once, and in that messy storm of feelings, something like transformation happens. I found myself rooting for him, even while shaking my head.

Finding Manhood in Scotland is for readers who appreciate messy, human stories about doubt, rage, beauty, and stumbling toward personal truth. It’s not a clean hero’s journey; it’s more like a muddy crawl across rainy pastures, fueled by oat bars, spite, and late-blooming courage. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s ever wondered if it’s too late to change, or who’s needed a personal quest just to feel alive again.

Pages: 238