Edinburgh is home to the largest monument dedicated to an author in the world: the Scott Monument. This contributes to the vast literary richness of Edinburgh itself, being far from the only literary landmark in the city, with the Writers’ Museum housing exhibitions dedicated to three Scottish greats: Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson, and once again, Sir Walter Scott.
In light of much discourse surrounding the social ramifications of historical monuments on the whole, with General Albert Pike’s statue in the US, and even the renaming of the Hume tower in George Square due to deplorable affiliations with the slave trade, it is increasingly impossible to be apolitical about any type of memorial.
Once someone is memorialised in such a uniquely public manner, it becomes inherently important who we choose to remember and how we must go about this.
The same goes for writer’s monuments. Thus, the age-old question arises: Is it possible to separate the art from the artist? When it comes to statues of literary greats, this concept becomes muddied, as the very grandeur of a statue prompts a subtext of admiration of the individual, as well as their work.
Whilst not explicitly a writer’s memorial, it would be ignorant not to discuss the looming literary presence of Harry Potter in Edinburgh. I find that this holds a different place in Edinburgh’s literary tourism, not only due to J.K. Rowling’s current politically problematic relevance, but further because the various attractions attribute their names to ‘Harry Potter’ rather than to Rowling herself.
This separation is not found in the memorialisation of Sir Walter Scott as an individual, for example. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Harry Potter books; I grew up reading them, I still reread them, watch the movies, all of that. But I would be lying if I said that, as an Edinburgh resident, I was not slightly ashamed of the intense commercialisation of the wizarding world, primarily because of the unavoidable political connotations of the author, and the financial benefit Rowling inevitably receives from the money poured out of these tourist attractions.
I guess this means literary landmarks are bad then. In fact, the opposite is true. Whilst it is often hard to move past the political weight that comes with any type of monument, it would be similarly disingenuous to strip away the history of any city by removing all monuments that have any scent of immorality. It feels only fair to memorialise authors in the same way they have memorialised the cities they write of or are inspired by.
So, I implore you to question: can we wholly respect the moral integrity of a city without erasing its literary history?
Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash