Ken Ilgunas

“It’s our yankee family member!” said Margaret, a Scottish relative who I was meeting for the first time. After Paris, I took the train back up to London and on to Luton, a small community north of the city, where my father’s cousin, Scott Ilgunas, lives with his family. Scott, an Englishman by birth but a Scotsman at heart, had visited my family in Canada when he was a young man. He’d come to visit us just after having a gun put to his ribs and his wallet stolen in NYC, so h

Ah, the Old World! How thrilling it was to see the cradle of civilization, the green expanse of English farmland beneath the morning’s gauze of fog. As a New Worlder on his first visit to the old country, every cloud, hill, and building beneath our descending plane sparkled with an exotic charm. It had been a pleasant flight, except that I hadn’t been able to fall asleep, which would all but guarantee I’d experience “jet lag”–a syndrome whose existence I’d previously brought

So I’m off on an adventure. This one, to travel the British Isles for 45 days. A while back, I was invited to speak at the Wigtown Book Festival—Scotland’s biggest book festival that takes place in the town of Galloway between September 27 – October 6. Having never been to Europe, and having never met my Scottish kin (three uncles, aunts, and innumerable cousins), I was eager to pounce on the opportunity, especially after the festival offered to pay for my flight. I’ll be giv