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Winner of the Booker Prize: "A work of marvelous vibrance and richness of character."--New York Times Book ReviewOne Sunday morning in Glasgow, shoplifting ex-con Sammy awakens in an alley, wearing another man's shoes and trying to remember his two-day drinking binge. He gets in a scrap with some soldiers and revives in a jail cell, badly beaten and, he slowly discovers, completely blind. And things get worse: his girlfriend disappears, the police question him for a crime they won't name, and his stab at disability compensation embroils him in the Kafkaesque red tape of the welfare bureaucracy. Told in the utterly uncensored language of the Scottish working class, this is a dark and subtly political parable of struggle and survival, rich with irony and black humor.Amazon.com Review
"Ye wake in a corner and stay there hoping yer body willdisappear, the thoughts smothering ye; these thoughts; but ye want toremember and face up to things, just something keeps ye from doing it,why can ye no do it; the words filling yer head: then the other words;there's something wrong; there's something far far wrong; ye're no agood man, ye're just no a good man." From the moment Sammy wakesslumped in a park corner, stiff and sore after a two-day drunk andwearing another man's shoes, James Kelman's Booker Prize-winning novelHow Late it Was, How Late loosens a torrent of furiousstream-of-consciousness prose that never lets up. Beaten savagely byGlasgow police, the shoplifting ex-con Sammy is hauled off to jail,where he wakes to a world gone black. For the rest of the novel hestumbles around the rainy streets of Glasgow, brandishing a sawed-offmop handle and trying in vain to make sense of the nightmare his lifehas become. Sammy's girlfriend disappears; the police question him fora crime they won't name; the doctor refuses to admit that he's blind;and his attempts to get disability compensation tangle in Kafkaesquered tape. Gritty, profane, darkly comic, and steeped in both Americancountry music and working class Scottish vernacular, Sammy's is avoice the reader won't soon forget. --Mary Park ... Read more

Customer Reviews (28)

Too Late for Me
I ordered this to learn more about modern-day Scotland, and because it was a Booker awardee I expected something interesting.I'm disappointed on both counts.The first several pages are probably the most vulgar, obscene screed I've ever seen and that was enough for me.I put it down and won't return to it unless I exhaust the thousands of good, useful books available.Yes, available about Scotland, too.I don't like the cover either.

Pacing The Cage
Ah, dear, how to write a review of a novel in which over half the words are unrepeatable in an Amazon review?The irony is that it's the lovely, chanting, profane interior monologue of the book that wins one over.From starter's orders here, we are inside the mind of a Glaswegian no-account who has lost his sight after having been "done in" by the police.He has also lost his girlfriend, his memory, and, to a certain extent, his mind.

But what a lovely, melodic mind it is!For all the talk of the book's roughness and the vulgarity of its language, it is intrinsically a sweet book - the poor bloke who never had a chance, blinded, left lovelorn, up against everything the world has to throw at him.Added to this is Sammy's perspective on the world.There's precious little self-pity in it.

So, we listen in on Sammy's thoughts as the bureaucracy, the police, the doctor, the lawyer all try to take him down.The recurrent image is of a wounded animal, defanged by blindness, beating the bars of the cage of this world with the mop handle with which he makes do for a cane, all the while drifting in a melodious incantation of meditation.I didn't want to put this book down.When I finally came to the end, I felt like saying to Sammy what he says to his son:

"The worst of all this is saying cheerio to the likes of yerself, but what can ye do, ye've got to batter on, know what I'm saying, ye've got to batter on."

Aye, Sammy, don't we all?

A good, but not great, read
Having read all of Irvine Welsh's books, I was looking for some more Scottish writers whose books are in dialect. Luckily for me, I found this in the Salvation Army shop for a couple of dollars. Now, I'm originally from Glasgow, so it was interesting in that regard, but I'm pretty much in agreement with Tam's review (see below). The book was apparently controversial because it's profane, but it's nothing really. People talk like that, worse even. Irvine Welsh writes dialect better and more consistently, allowing you to distinguish between Edinburgh and Glasgow accents (which you'll only get if you're from there, by the way). As for the plot, it's OK, Sammy the main character has some good lines, but at times I was frustrated with him. But that's what it's all about, I suppose. Worth reading, but if you're not from there, then you won't get the most out of it.

What a wonderful drunken, beautiful mess.
This is one of my favorite books of all time but let me warn you it is a mess to read and if you are easily offended this is not the book for you. Full of swear words and written in dialect (which makes it very hard to read) this one is an acquired taste. If you have just finished reading Trainspotting (the only good book by Irvine Welsh & not the greatest movie) which has a glossary of terms it is a little easier. Winner of the Booker Prize because it is pure genus and a one-of-a-kind read. Completely original, written well before Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting and much, much better.

Poor effort from Big Jim
The style of this book apparently is know in the trade as "stream of consciousness", but anyone who has ever set foot in Glasgow can see it's just standard weegie punter pub patter spun out into book length and format.

I had high expectations coming to this book, having won the Booker prize and generally acclaimed by the critics. But as story lines go, it's average. As a piece of English literature, it's not even on the radar screens. As a piece of Scots literature, it's been heavily watered down (sorry to disappoint the other reviewers who thought the 'dialect' - in actual fact banter - was quite strong). If you're after a solid piece of contemporary Scots stuff in the same vein, Irvine Welsh (Edinburgh) is far better, you'll get a proper story line, some bare minimum of character development, more energy all round and better language. If you're wanting really classic stuff, then maybe Lewis Grassic Gibbon (Aberdonian).

But to give the book credit where due, there are some strong points. If you have never been to Glasgow or Scotland (or if you have and are nostalgic - it does happen so I am told...), this book is full of those 'only-in-Glasgow' gems; but to repeat you don't have to be a great author to put them down on paper. If you've never been to Scotland you can have a taster of how depressing life really is there.

There's bound to be literary critics out there who can dig out profound observations on human nature and modern society in this. But then again this sort of folk can see meaning in an old bag of chips or a soggy newspaper. And is hard to see whether Kelman actually intended anything with this book other than to make a few coins.

Other good points. It's a pretty light read, you can steam through it in no time, and it's ideal for reading on the beach (if you have the luck), on the bus, waiting in a queue etc.

If you can avoid spending the money, try borrowing from a friend or from the library. It's not one of those classic tomes you will be wanting to grace your own collection in years to come.

If you're seriously wanting to find out more about Scotland and the way of life/language, the only real way to do it is through the cinema. Similar sort of approach to Kelman is taken by Ken Loach ('My name is Joe', 'Sweet Sixteen'). ... Read more

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Customer Reviews (2)

A Lad's Life
Imagine, if you will, the first chapter of Joyce's A Portrait of The Artist as A Young Man turned into a 400 page interior monologue novel of boyhood, but transplanted from Dublin, Ireland to Glasgow, Scotland in a post WWII era working-class setting.That's is the best way I know to summarise the novel for readers unfamiliar with Kelman's strong, hard-hitting yet melodiously lyrical voice with which he endues all his characters and narratives.

Kelman never fails to amaze with his ability to put himself into his characters' minds, their entire worlds.In this case, the reader is translated into the world of boyhood and reminded of both how wondrous and how terrible it is to be a child.Kelman's narrative power is such that any adult reader is bound to find himself/herself having Proustian moments of reflection induced by this book, and incidents of childhood long-forgotten will spring suddenly to life, sparked by a minute detail.For Kelman, whilst melodic and lyrical par excellence, is also very detailed, perhaps a tad too much so in parts.Indeed, whole sections of this book could be torn out and reassembled into a book entitled something like, "A Young Lad's Manual for Climbing Trees, Drainpipes and Other Features of The Urban Landscape."This is the only fault I find in the book: These sections lead to rather strained longueurs, or they did for this reader.It is for this reason also that I don't find the book quite meets the standard set by "A Disaffection" and, especially, "How Late It Was, How Late."It's just not as relentless in its execution and power over the reader. But, this is a very high standard indeed for any book to meet.Kelman is the greatest living Scottish writer!

I leave the reader with one of those wondrous haunting moments so peculiar to childhood, described herein thus:

"It was all smashing for playing.Except how the big boulders and stuff was all quiet, it was quiet.Ye could not hear nothing only maybe the wind, just a wee bit.So if it made ye feared, ye could see how it did, ye were just there and nobody else.There was no any sounds, there was just no any sounds.Oh but birds, high up, ye saw them, whirling about, wee specks.Then just the sheep and they were just away high up, right away at the very top, ye looked and there was one farther up, and the wind was making the grass shiver.I liked the sheep."

Amazing Writing, Amazing Book
How is it possible that no one else has reviewed James Kelman's new novel?Maybe the America reading public just hasn't caught up to one of the world's major, major prose stylists.Kleman masterfully evokes a Scottish boyhood.I won't even bother with the plot, because this isn't a coming of age novel, and it doesn't try in any way to burden itself with some wide arch of plot in order to wrap up a singular experience; in other words, Kelman dares to say: childhood is what it is.Scottish childhood--at least this specific one--isn't going to give way to some grand apothosis.It is what it is.In taking this stance, Kelman creates a work of art that demands that you, the reader, come to terms with childhood; it forces the reader to simply remember that being a kid was great, and terror-filled, and marvelous; that being a kid brought you in touch with the deepest aspects of the culture. . .and so evoking it, brings the reader in touch with his or her past along with the past of a very specific culture. Do young boys think in terms of plot: no.Because he refuses to leave the vantage of the young boy, the book moves differently; changes in Kieron's life appear and he faces them and then moves on to to the next moment. What keeps you reading is the pure, clean, simple, language.
"I went to my grannie's by myself. I was glad. I liked it better."

Reviews in Europe were widely appreciative.Kelman, a Booker Prize winner, is barely known in the US.This one should've been an Oprah pick.

... Read more

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Living in a no-bedroomed tenement flat, coping with the cold and boredom of busconducting and the bloody-mindedness of Head Office, knowing that emigrating to Australia is only an impossible dream, Robert Hines finds life to be ‘a very perplexing kettle of coconuts’. The compensations are a wife and child, and a gloriously anarchic imagination.

The Busconductor Hines is a brilliantly executed, uncompromising slice of the Glasgow scene, a portrait of working-class life which is unheroic but humane. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (1)

gritty Rob Hines
Hines lives in a crappy flat with no bathrub. He conducts a city bus (he's not passed the driving test, indeed he doesn't even have a driver's license). His job is mind-numbingly boring, his supervisors are daft, and his life is just one lousy day after another.

The weather is horrid. His companions tell the stupidest and worst jokes and tales.

R. Hines regularly shows up late for work, or forgets his hat, and is always in trouble with his supervisors. He's regularly skipping work for one reason or another. Always on the brink of being canned.

Still, he has a lovely wife (who is understandably upset with his work performance), and a charming little toddler boy. They're not going anywhere fast. Hines wants a better life for his family, but they're not going to get it.

Your man Hines, though, he's got a brain, and a biting sense of humor. This, along with a bit of drink, gets him through each day.

Some have written that Irvine Welsh (_Trainspotting_) read _The Busconductor Hines_, which demonstrated to him the possibility of writing in his own Scottish voice, about the real people of Scotland. I can believe that.

James Kelman has created one of the greatest characters you'll ever read-- Rabbie Hines.

ken32 ... Read more

Product Description
Busted Scotch is a selection by James Kelman of 35 short stories--most of them published in this country for the first time--from over two decades of his work. They reveal the author as a tough-minded master of the short form, which he infuses with his unique brand of bleak comedy and his absolute belief in the primacy of his character's language and culture.Amazon.com Review
The stories in James Kelman's collection, Busted Scotch are as bleak as a Scottish winter. Kelman's characters are working class people--mostly men, mostly inarticulate--whose dead-end existences are relentlessly dark. Fortunately, the reader, if not the characters, is rescued from this lunarscape vision by bracing doses of Kelman's black humor and impressive prose. Sometimes, as in "Nice to be Nice," the prose is rendered in a thick Scots dialect that might confound readers outside of the U.K. Most stories, however, are more accessible linguistically, though liberally laced with obscenities. Kelman does not concentrate his energies on character development or even on action; nothing much happens in many of these stories, yet everything changes. In "Pictures," a man notices a woman in a movie theater, buys her coffee, begins to wonder if she's a prostitute. These tiny, uneventful occurrences lead to the revelation of an unresolved trauma in the man's own life. In "A Nightboilerman's Notes," the narrator achieves a strange kind of transcendence simply contemplating the darkness in the bowels of a factory.

Kelman, who won Britain's prestigious Booker Prize in 1994 for his novel How Late It Was, How Late,has selected the 35 stories in Busted Scotch from more than 20 years' work. Many of these stories make their American debut in this collection. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (4)

Poverty, cigarettes, booze and welfare
Flashes of genius but not always readable. Short stories that sometimes lapse into incoherent surrealistic stream of consciousness. The understandability is often further reduced by phonetic spelling of dialect. The phonetic spelling assumes that the reader normally speaks Southern British English (for example "game" spelled "gemm.") At times it is absolutely brilliant with dark humor describing the way the shiftless (often homeless and destitute) make ends meet by welfare and panhandling. Reminded me often of James Joyce, which is not altogether a compliment because I've never managed to finish Ulysses.

On Reflection: Good
A wide range of stories of life in the slow lane of post industrial Scotland.I picked up this book in a store, tried to read it and pretty much immediately put it down for six months.I was put off by the writtenScots dialect (in some (not all) of the stories), the seeminginconsequentality of some of the storylines, and the surreal nature of someothers.

I'm glad I picked it up again.I tried reading "Nice to beNice" (written in Scots) oot loud to mysel' an' it made a lot moresense, and became an affecting story of a man working (in a small way)against bureaucracy. Reading other stories it became clear that they AREabout everyday life, but they add a poetic quality to it, and really getyou inside the head of the characters.

I would recommend this book.

Well Written, but Unexciting
This is about as good a way to get to know Kelman's writings as any, since he's selected the 35 short stories in this volume from four or five of his previous collections. They range from a half-page to thirty pages or so,and tend to be rather unexciting interior monologues. There are a few nicestories, my favorite being "Remember Young Cecil," about a formerpool champion. Nothing much to inspire one to seek out his other work,though.

Dark, bleak, brilliant stories about post-industrial angst.
Kelman's collection of short stories is a bleak affair, a series of grim portraits of disaffected Scots who bumble through their Kafkaesque lives. Stories begin in the middle of a narrative, and end before any concrete resolution. Enigmatic dwarves invade a migrant workers' camp and pub, with bizarre effects. Absurdity coexists with anxiety, dispair with some aching longing for better times, when the true reason things are so bad remains firmly out of grasp. Out of this darkness emerge Kelman's characters, pitiful souls who aimlessly seek some meaning and reason. Of course, it eludes them completely. Yet, like a 100 to 1 shot against picking a winning horse, Kelman's characters continue to struggle against poverty, injustice, and hard times. In spite of this, all is not completely grim, for rays of humor pierce through the darkness, and mirth creeps into the angst, ever so subtly. In the careful portrayal of their struggles, Kelman has crafted brilliant fiction. Read one story and wince, catch your breath, gain some enlightenment, then plunge on to the next one. Each and every tale is well worth your time. ... Read more

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This introduction to the whole range of Kelman's work to the Booker Prize winning novel How Late it Was, How Late, examines the embattled Kelman's literary politics. paying close attention to the Scottish culture in which he was nurtured, the embittered underclass, the intricacies of the narrative voice and the existential anguish behind it. ... Read more

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Rejected by his brother and largely ignored by his parents, Kieron Smith finds comfort - and endless stories - in the home of his much-loved grandparents. But when his family move to a new housing scheme on the outskirts of the city, a world away from the close community of the tenements, Kieron struggles to find a way to adapt to his new life. In his brilliantly evoked post-war Glasgow, Kelman depicts the city during a period of profound social change, with flourishing sectarianism, yet high hopes for the future. And in his central character, he creates a universal portrayal of the unique obsessions of childhood, whether fishing, climbing, books, brothers, dogs, ghosts, faces or souls...Warm, funny, with searing insight and astonishing empathy, in "Kieron Smith", James Kelman has created an unforgettable boy. ... Read more

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Customer Reviews (1)

The quiet voice of a master
I was first introduced to Kelman by an English teacher in secondary school.He exposed my class to modern Scottish writing, ALasdair Gray, Tom Leonard, and James Kelman.Indeed, Kelman was invited to my school to givea reading (unusual given the language in his fiction).

I did not readKelman for a time afterwards, but came to him again through Alasdair Gray'sLanark.Here, in the epilogue (Four chapters before the end) there are anumber of footnotes, one of which was the text of Acid, a short storyfeatured on this collection.It is very short (just longer than RichardBrautigan's The Scarlatti Tilt) but remains one of the most powerful thingsI have read, exploring the nature of work, love, and a parent childrelationship in under fifty words.

I then started devouring Kelman, thenovels and the short stories.Although, I love Kelman's novels (especiallyA Chancer and A Disaffection) it is to the short stories I keep returning. His collections from Three Glasgow Writers, through An Old Pub near theangel, Not not while the giro, Greyhound for Breakfast, The Burn and TheGood Times, are essential reading.They reveal so much about the humancondition - and, in his later work, the nature of maleness (without anyRobert Bly nonsense).

Kelman writes in dialect, and is very funny(although this is lost in much controversy about his use of sweariewords).

This collection of 7 stories (8 on the audio cassette) isexcellent.You hear the voice of a master, a quiet determined voice, that- with no hystrionics - allows the work to shine.The collection showcasessome of the best of Kelman, although, for reasons of length, his impressivelonger short stories (e.g. A situation from The Burn) are not present. However, the Cd is worth it for two of the stories alone.Acid, andRoofsliding.Acid is described above.Rooofsliding is Kelman at hisfunniest.An academic analysis of strange behaviour in the tenements ofGlasgow.It is dry, it is witty, and the easy style with which Kelmanreads accentuates the humour.

You should read Kelman, and you shouldlisten to him.Because when you hear him, his voice will permeate yourreadings of his fiction.You will feel the tone, will note thenuances.

This is a collection to love and play again and again, and wemust be grateful to the companies are taking the effort to commit our greatwriters to audio collections.

If you enjoy this, try the Tom Leonard CD(by AK) where he reads a collection of his Glasgow Poems, "nora'splace and other poems 1965-1995 ref: AK006CD and SOHO003CD, or theCanongate audio recordings of Alasdair Gray reading Lanark and someUnlikely Stories. ... Read more

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Passionate, exhilarating and darkly humorous, "The Burn" is an extraordinary collection of short stories by a master of paranoia and an unsurpassed prose stylist. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (1)

Hard nosed stories from Scotland
James Kelman is best known for the controversial Booker Prize winning novel "How late it was, how late". However, he has also written some excellent short fiction, as this collection proves. And short is the operative word - there are 26 stories in less than 250 pages, many as short as two pages. Mostly they concern people living quietly desperate lives - people who just seem to find living in the world more difficult than they should, or at least than others apparently do. Some of the stories, such as "Pictures" and "Lassies are trained that way" focus on the impossibility of communication between the sexes, but from an unusual angle - that of the self conscious working class man, who is painfully aware of how all his words are being misinterpreted, but cannot find an alternative approach. "A Walk in the Park" is one of the few stories where love transcends despair to provide some measure of redemption, but my personal favourite has to be "Naval History", a hilarious tale of a setup in a bookstore ... Read more

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Customer Reviews (4)

Headache
I forced myself through "how late it was", which was not worthy of 5 stars, although it was better than this book.Both books have no chapters.They are both rambling drunken accounts of a mans life that you the reader most likely could experience for real, for about the same cost of this book...at a bar.

Garbage - Kelman has written )better
Poor James Kelman - seems the Booker Prize has finally gone to his head.He's actually starting to think that what he does is important.After writing some excellent novels live How Late It Was, How Late and Translated Accounts he spits out this garbage.Good for nothing, alcoholic, paranoid, Scottish loser comes to America looking for opportunity - when it is not handed to him on a silver platter he decideds its due to American racism (and George Bush).Of course we all remember those sad post-911 days when Scottish immigrants were the target of so much American hatred.And who can forget the terrible invasion of Scotland (that damn war for oil!).Kelman has totally lost his mind if he thinks the reader will be able to feel for poor Jeremiah Brown.Brown sits in a bar drinking his face off, complaining about American immigration policies (ever consider putting some of that energy into cleaning yourself up and looking for a job?).

The use of Scottish phoentic writing in How Late was an interesting idea and Kelman can be forgiven for trying this gimmick in one or two more novels, but I think its time he gave it up for good and tried something different (Translated Accounts was a good first step).

a dark view of contemporary america
A brilliant extended piece of stream of consciousness writing and a scathing indictment of GWB's Hobbesian american dystopia.Unlike Kelman's earlier works this novel is not set in Glasgow, but is instead set inside the head of a working class Scottish immigrant who becomes stranded in the snowy wasteland of Dakota while trying to work his way home to Glasgow.As do all of Kelman's novels, this one operates on numerous levels, being both a celebration of the rich working class dialect of his native city as well as a commentary on the inadequacies of human communication.Like a more sympathetic (and more hopeful) S. Beckett, Kelman notes our miserable failure as a species to live up to our potential, yet holds out hope that one day we might do better in communicating/loving/caring for one another.Kelman's work falls in the great Marxist/Existentialist tradition of those writers who believe that we may indeed be all alone, but that that aloneness is a shared condition which allows for the possibility of us mitigating our suffering (and in turn creating meaning) by caring for one another.

"Everybody vanishes, that is what life is, unresolved."
Jeremiah Brown, another of Booker Prize-winner James Kelman's down-and-out protagonists, thinks of himself as a writer and keeps a notebook into which he jots down his observations about his life, recording them in the vernacular--phonetic spellings ("Skallin" for Scotland, "Uhmerkin" for American, for example); pervasive profanity; and run-on sentences and paragraphs.No chapters interrupt or divide the stream-of-consciousness narrative, told by Jeremiah, as he drinks his way through a series of bars in Rapid City, South Dakota, the night before he is supposed to begin his roundabout trip home to Glasgow, by way of Seattle, Montreal, Newfoundland, Iceland, Amsterdam, and Edinburgh.

As he reminisces about his life, especially his life with his "ex-wife" Yasmin, whom he never married, and their daughter, now four years old, he shows himself to be aimless, "a non-assimilatit alien...Aryan Caucasian atheist, born loser...big debts, nay brains."A compulsive gambler, pool player, and heavy drinker, Jerry has held a series of dead end jobs, the only kinds of jobs, he tells us, that are open to immigrants with Class III Red Cards--primarily bar-tending and nighttime airport security work.

The novel follows no logical time frame, spooling out from Jerry's memories in more or less random fashion.We observe his relationship with Yasmin, his "ex-wife," and meet his acquaintances, including Suzanne and Miss Perpetua, two other security guards from the Alien and Alien Extraction Section who also patrol the periphery of the airport car park where he works; two down-and-out war vets, Homer and Jethro, who sleep wherever they can find warmth and space; and "the being," a grocery cart pusher who frequently disappears into thin air and about whose gender bets have been made.

Obviously, plot is not the focus here.In choosing to recreate Jerry's aimless inner life in such a realistic way, however, the author has created a character who does not change or gain the self-awareness that makes his life relevant to most readers.As a character, Jerry does not really engage the reader, and that seems to be part of the author's point: Jerry is and always will be an outsider.Humor, most of it dark, permeates the novel, and an episode with "the being" in the airport VIP lounge is hilarious, but the ending is startling in its abruptness and may surprise readers.Kelman the iconoclast has, once again, produced an unusual and iconoclastic novel in which he experiments with form and structure, bringing to life a character who remains forever on the periphery, even for the reader.Mary Whipple ... Read more

Customer Reviews (1)

Unusual Kelman, but still great
Some folk dinnae like Kelman.They dinnae like the swearin and the langwij.Readin writin that's in phonetic Glasweejan is tae difficult fur them.

Well, tough.

This is early Kelman.Written when he wis young, like.An it's great.Fantastic.

Yi see, it's naw like his later stuff.Naw.Yi see, here, it's all objective. There's nae gettin inside the heids of the characters.Yi're jist telt whit they do.An it's compellun.Yit, nuthin happens.Nuthin. Sure there's some fitba and gamblin, an bein a layabout, but it's more than that.

Kelman can write.He's magic.he loves words, loves his people, loves langwij.Yi can feel the power in it.Feel the anger. The frustration at the waste.An yi might not love his characters, but yi respect them.

Like here, Tammas.A bit o a waster.A chancer, duckin and divin, lookin fur an opportunity tae mak some money, fur a quick smoke.But, yi'll come tae like him.Kelman does that, yi see.He draws yi in.

But like a said, here it's a bit diffrunt.We dinnae ken whit Tammas is thinkin, we only know how he reacts, and whit he does.

It's clever.It's well written.And Kelman's still the godfather o modern Scottish writin.Still the king.

Buy this.Force them tae reprint it.

Cheers. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (1)

great stories about hardup people
This collection of stories by James Kelman is one of my favorites.His subjects are everyday people:menial laborers, folks on the dole, people with relationships good and bad, friends faithful and not-so-faithful.

His language is sometimes harsh, but it never seems false.These characters seem to be real as if they could step right off the page into your hands.

Sometimes the scottish dialect is difficult for me to comprehend, but that is more than offset by the realism (equally as realistic, I think, as good hardboiled crime fiction, though that seems like an odd comparison, to me) and by the humour of the stories.

These stories are hilarious.Often the figures are lonely, pathetic, or sorrowful, failures in the eyes of many, but Kelman never denigrates or looks down upon his characters.He renders them with the greatest humanity and conveys them to the reader with much respect.

Kelman's stories always make me laugh, and make me feel, and this collection surely has done both, a couple of times over. ... Read more

Product Description
A first collection of plays by James Kelman, whose novel "A Disaffection" won the 1989 James Tait Black Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. The plays provide evidence of Kelman's linguistic craftsmanship, ironic humour and ear for dialogue. ... Read more

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As the buoyancy of Liverpool’s industrial river-trade slips away into history, there are few guarantees for lives that are improvised and uncertain. Away from the defining nature of the workplace, Grant dwells on togetherness and the intimate encounters of family life. With eloquence and beauty, The Close Season bears witness to the tender urgencies of kinship and survival. A powerful and humorous story by James Kelman complements the photographs. He is one of the U.K.’s leading novelists and was the winner of the 1994 Booker Prize with his novel How Late It Was, How Late.

"No hidden agendas, no exploitation, just a short cut to knowing what it was like to be there."—Martin Parr

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Customer Reviews (1)

an excellent book discussing British left-wing politics
Little is known about Mr. Kelman, which is a shame, considering that he won the Booker Prize in 1994. So, it is with much enthusiam that I recommend this book. Here, one can get the inside scoop of his political thinking. If you have read his books, it should be no surprise to you that he is a man of the left. Now, will someone write a biography about this man? ... Read more

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In Translated Accounts, the Booker Prize-winning author of How late it was, how late, offers us a harrowing glimpse into a realm where power is unchecked and liberties are few or nonexistent. Taking us into an unnamed territory that appears to be under military rule, Kelman creates a world that many know or have known, a world that may one day be thrust upon us, conjuring a grim awareness of the instability that lurks behind the veneer of order in any country.Filtering the dark visions of Franz Kafka through the verbal brilliance of Samuel Beckett, Kelman has written a novel that is often shocking, yet surprisingly poignant, and totally unforgettable. ... Read more

Customer Reviews (4)

4 stars
James Kelman won the Booker Prize for his novel "How Late It Was, How Late" a good few years ago now, but in the time since then he has produced superior work such as "The Good Times" and "Translated Accounts".
This book is a series of narratives written/spoken/emailed by people (of uncertain geographical location) whose right to free speech has been denied to the extent that sometimes it is only by attempting a decoding of the censor's voice that anything can be understood.
The narratives are sometimes romantic, sometimes banal, and occasionally horrific. But because the language is garbled by translation or censorship, the images thrown up are general rather than specific. There is no doubt that the author knows a lot about the former Yugoslavia, but such reference points aren't really useful since the book is more concerned with this kaleidoscope of individual experiences, rather than shaking a leftist fist at governments.
In ways this book is a first. It's not the everything's-under-the-surface dream world of Joyce's "Finnegans Wake". It's not the inner-city Glasgow of "How Late". Neither poetry nor prose. What it is is the glacial hardness of the human spirit under a strain so great that sense itself is broken.

4 stars
James Kelman won the Booker Prize for his novel "How Late It Was, How Late" a good few years ago now, but in the time since then he has produced superior work such as "The Good Times" and "Translated Accounts".
This book is a series of narratives written/spoken/emailed by people (of uncertain geographical location) whose right to free speech has been denied to the extent that sometimes it is only by attempting a decoding of the censor's voice that anything can be understood.
The narratives are sometimes romantic, sometimes banal, and occasionally horrific. But because the language is garbled by translation or censorship, the images thrown up are general rather than specific. There is no doubt that the author knows a lot about the former Yugoslavia, but such reference points aren't really useful since the book is more concerned with this kaleidoscope of individual experiences, rather than shaking a leftist fist at governments.
In ways this book is a first. It's not the everything's-under-the-surface dream world of Joyce's "Finnegans Wake". It's not the inner-city Glasgow of "How Late". Neither poetry nor prose. What it is is the glacial hardness of the human spirit under a strain so great that sense itself is broken.

Virtually unreadable
I thought How Late it Was, How Late was excellent and one of the best books I have read in the past couple of years.So, I had high expectations after hearing about Translated Accounts.The premise of the book is intriguing but the language and repetitiveness of the book made a worthwhile story unbearable.

Not Since Beckett Has There Been Such A Book
There's so many books out there, and so many good ones (thankfully), so it's hard to explain exactly why, after reading this one, I felt I'd read something truly important.
Language forms the deep centre of this novel, the story of an un-named country under what seems to be a kind of stark martial law.
The whole book is written in a kind of elegantly broken English. These are the stories of a non-English country forced into English with little regard for the identities of the people or the importance of either language. You see how hard it is to explain?

After all that has happened recently, the fibre of this story feels desperately necessary. The human stuff that is so difficult to parse within this novel (due to the faulty translations--the really incredible style developed by Kelman, it's just amazing, really), is the struggle we're now all facing to find the right language to describe our horrors.

This book will immediately remind you of certain books by Nobel prize winning guy Samuel Beckett. It's not as heavy a read as say, The Unnamable, which is good. It's sort of like Beckett's later fictions, but instead of completely vanishing down the endless hole of despair and (let's face it) nonsense, Kelman is telling a fascinating story.

If when you read you don't like your time wasted on tripe, vacuousness, bull, sloppiness, hackwork, guile, smoke &/or mirrors, etc. then certainly this is a book worth reading. The essential truth here, is that like Faulkner, like Joyce, like Beckett, like Pynchon, like Bellow, this is a book for history. The deep history of great reading. ... Read more