How Late It Was, How Late

by James Kelman

This book won the Booker Prize for literature back in 1994 (I was only 3!) amidst controversy and outrage from the press, but fought back with many literary figures support of it as a work of art.

The reason, of course, is the fact that it contains an abundance of swear words. Can something that contains so much offensive language be Literature, with a capital L.
The answer is yes.

Written as a stream of consciousness, with no boundaries in the form of chapters or sections, the reader get a rare insight into the mindset of Sammy, a character dependant upon social security but with a strict sense of morality and key perspective of a bureaucratic, almost Kafka-esque nightmare of a welfare system. After taking a beating from the police after a three day bender, Sammy goes blind and now has to navigate the pitfalls and traps into which so many fall in dealing with the state.   With the loss of one sense, we rely much more on the words recorded and their possible layers of meaning, as without facial expression and body language we are confused as to the subtleties and purpose of much of the conversations.  The ambiguity over narration is also confusing as we cannot be sure of their authority and truthfulness. We only have Sammy's opinion, and don't even know whether he is to be trusted as we know nothing of his past. This battles with the idea that people are innocent until proven guilty, raising questions as to whether we believe Sammy or the state? and why we do or don't believe their version of events.

It's a hard book, no easy read, but it is very interesting to discuss.  Personally I'm not comfortable with excessive swearing, but this is essential, along with the phonetic and dialect choices made by Kelman.  If this book was written in Queen's English it would not be the same book, or represent the same situation or the same character. So who cares if he swears a lot, many people do. If you don't like it then don't read it, but if you're interested in seeing (or not seeing as the case may be) a different representation of life on the breadline then this book will not disappoint.

The Trick is to Keep Breathing

The Trick is to Keep Breathing by Janice Galloway

What to say... I didn't get it.  I didn't figure out who "Joy" was until 3/4 of the way through, and she's the narrator.

The men are seemingly interchangeable, with no real differentiation between them, and the plot confused me so much in its roundabout way of un-chronologically listing events.  Also the occasional two short lines set on their own in the margin at random intervals.  Weird.

I'm going to presume however that this was a genuine plot device in order to convey the confusion and distress of the narrator's mind, in which case, it worked.  I ended up more puzzled at the end than I had at the beginning. She seems like a bit of a slut, trying to explain away, cover, her mental problems with promiscuous behaviour with any Tom, Dick or Harry, regardless of whether they have families and partners.

I felt that the section of the the novel in the mental institute (or whatever the politically correct term is nowadays - God I sound old) was very well written to convey the horror of being constantly misunderstood and the irritation of being dismissed and labelled, although I think that maybe a definite label and easy 10 step solution is what she expected and wanted in some ways.

However, the most annoying part of the book is most certainly the conclusion, which royally pissed me off.  To finish mourning her dead lover, get rid of her depression and begin living again she..................... (wait for it)................ cut her hair, dyed it purple and got some piercings.

THIS IS THE SOLUTION?!?!? A MID-LIFE CRISIS?!?!?!

I shouldn't criticise, different things work for different people after all and there is no easy solution yadda yadda yadda. But after plowing through this dull story, I was hoping for something a bit more profound.  It honestly would have been more fitting for her to commit suicide.

Ms. Galloway, congratulations for writing the worst book I have read so far in 2011.

2*

GB84 by David Peace

A combination of thriller, mystery and historical commentary, GB84 is a diary of the General Strike of 1984, running week by week through the lives of those effected, from government advisers and Union Representatives to the miners and police on the front line.  In my opinion, Peace gives a well balanced account of the events, highlighting questionable choices on both parts and not judging the people involved, but leaving the reader to come to their own determination as to who was in the right.

As we watch trust break down among friends and colleagues and violence increase I can only be reminded of attitudes usually attributed to WW2: Stick Together but Don't Trust Anybody. As unions and government talk of loyalty to the cause, the question arises as to what is more important; the life and rights of an individual, or the greater good for the greatest number of people, and does this excuse the extraordinary measures taken by the police to intimidate and brutalise the public that they are sworn to defend, or the disruption of an entire nation by the NUM.

What is most important though, is that this book is a bloody good interesting read which will get you thinking as to the changes of the last 25 years, and how a different outcome would have changed the way we live today.