'Craftland' is presented as 'a journey through Britain's lost arts and vanishing trades' and introduces us to individuals in different regions throughout the land. Wheelwrights, watchmakers, blacksmiths, dry stone wallers, bellfounders - the author meets those who have been working in their trade all their lives, others who have taken it on as the next generation, and others who have come to it new, seeking a different way of life, a different pace and with different goals. 

It's wonderfully atmospheric in its descriptions of the skills and practices undertaken by these talented and dedicated individuals, but it doesn't spare us their struggle in sustaining a living from trades which are often overlooked or no longer fully appreciated. 

In the author's interviews with the people he meets, there are some interesting observations on life. And he's told not to call them 'craftspeople'. A wheelwright tells him 'when someone says "craft" to me, I think of a church fayre or a bearded hippy carving spoons. I'm not a craftsman, this isn't a hobby, and I'm not keeping anything "alive". This here is a trade. I'm running a business and, much like everyone else in the country, I'm trying to make a living.'

In Cambridge, the author visits the Kindersley letter-cutting workshop and learns that 'the company reminds us that career success isn't just about climbing the greasy pole or winning the rat race...It can also be about surrendering oneself to one's vocation, subsuming one's ambition to the collective good and committing oneself to excellence for its own sake.'

It's a fabulous read which is enlightening and also fun - craftspeople are often compared to their creations like dog-owners and their pets. 'Coopers, like casks, tend to be stout, barrel-chested and battle-scarred.'