Local Leith hardman Roy Strang is in a coma. How did he get there?
We aren’t privy to this yet, but in his semi-conscious state, he reminisces on his upbringing in a rough-as-fuck housing estate with his dickhead dad and kowtowed mum, his simpleton sister and gay brother. At some point, he’s emigrated to South Africa to take part in a conservation scheme, to eradicate the invasive Marabou stork, a threat to the native peace-loving flamingo.
The time periods in Irvine Welsh’s 1995 novel are a little confusing, but they clear up masterfully at the end, and other questions are answered in characteristically brutal fashion. The story, as the title suggests, is a figurative (and potentially literal) nightmare, swaying from hilarious dysfunctionality to outright horror.
The problem with Welsh’s work is that a lot of them are first-person narrated, meaning the main character tells us himself what’s happening. In turn, that means that the character has to be smart enough to exposit the narrative – to tell an engaging, understandable story from their perspective. As a result, Strang, like many of Welsh’s characters, flits between seemingly brainless thug to eloquent raconteur and back again on the same page.
It’s a tough act to pull off, but Welsh, out of anyone I’ve read, is the closest to being able to curate it.
A Scotch, short, sharp shock of a book. It’s a shame that the author has, in the past, touted anti-vaxx bollocks. I’m hoping he’s read a little more and informed himself.
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