Wilson Pressley is in a zoo. At least they pay him a salary to promote it. But he's uneasy. Some of the exhibits don't always remain behind bars, his love-life is going nowhere in particular, and there's something else calling him. It's to do with the sea, or at least to do with being able to navigate - a skill his ancestors had to possess. But he hasn't worked that out. Dogskin Boy is firmly rooted in the landscapes of Scotland, especially the sands and sea-spray of the east coast. It suggests that what we remember from earlier days, what we are told about our forebears, and even what we dream, can sometimes all blend together.