Scotched

Part 3

by Chris Wright

Just the mention of this rumpus is enough to get Kelman's ears steaming. For one thing, he doesn't buy into the "our culture" bit. As far as Kelman is concerned, that line of argument is just another tool of English imperialism: "It's my fucking culture," he growls, his accent growing more pronounced. "They say I'm subverting their tradition, but I say this is my tradition. And my tradition has nothing to do with your tradition. The idea that an artist can have nothing to do with that mainstream just doesn't occur to them." Then, Kelman stares at me -- both a reporter and an Englishman -- and says, in the shouted whisper angry people use in public, "Well look: it's got nothing to do with you -- just fucking keep out of it!"

As I sit with an unchewed portion of jerked turkey in my mouth, Welsh breaks the tension by quipping, "When I first wrote Trainspotting, I used to read bits and pieces by Jim talking about all this stuff, and I thought, `Oh, this guy's paranoid.' " The table bursts into laughter at this, but Welsh remains solemn. "Then I went through the process myself and got exactly the same kind of patronizing treatment. It's based on the premise that this somehow isn't to do with writing. I'd just like to get to the point where I could just lighten up and say, `Here's my book, what do you think of it?' without having to examine every single cultural and social context."

Like it or not, Welsh, Kelman, and McLean have certainly stirred the cultural and social pot. Welsh, in particular, has raised the cult of author to the level of a pop star, or a movie idol. People who have never bought a book before are emptying the shelves as fast as they can be stacked. Meanwhile, those who consider literature their business denounce, applaud, and generally fall over one another to try and define (or confine) the "Scottish Renaissance" that has shaken the literary world. Whether promoting them as "Great Scots" or condemning them as barbarians at the gate, the media have proved to be both a blessing and a curse to these writers.

Kelman, radical to the end, insists that the media's influence on sales is greatly exaggerated: "It's not the case where those in the higher rungs of society are going to allow us in. It's because we've thrust it down their fucking throat. It's because we've forced our way in, and people want to read what we've been doing." McLean, on the other hand, admits, "The brutal truth is, if it hadn't been for all the publicity, I wouldn't be here now."

And Welsh, who has received more publicity of late than any other author in Britain, says he would like to fade from the public eye altogether. "I would be happy to slip into obscurity," he says. "People say I blazed out of nowhere -- well, I must have been somewhere. Functions, readings, interviews: it's a load of bollocks. I'm much happier sitting at home watching the afternoon telly with a spliff."

Welsh rarely gives interviews these days, and he says he never reads his reviews. You believe him when he maintains he wants no part of the bookselling game. "Trainspotting was the most shoplifted book in history, and that's fantastic," he says. "People haven't just paid cash. They've put themselves on the line. A pal of mine got sent to prison and took a copy of the book with him. The guys inside were saying it's like having someone in your cell you can talk to, and that's mind-blowing. So what if some twat in the Observer slagged off Trainspotting? When I get that kind of feedback from people, what the fuck do I care?"

Chris Wright is on staff at the Boston Phoenix.