A friend of mine once remarked that the character of a city is more resilient than we think. Despite the surface changes of time—new clothes and cars, different shops and bars—there is something impalpable, determined by architecture and place, perhaps, or the taste of the air, that keeps a place what it is, even as it warps and alters unrecognizably. My friend was referring to Paris or New York, but as I am writing this, I realize the same may be said of the tiny town of Inverness...