Is this a golden era for Scottish literature?
Alan Bissett, Helen Fitzgerald and Allan Wilson survey the current literary lansdscape
With Glasgow's Margins Book and Music Festival bringing together a range of talented Scottish writers, we asked three of them, is Scottish writing in an especially healthy state right now? And if so, why?
The contention is that Scottish literature – due to a combination of factors, including centralised buying by book chains and a backlash against post-Trainspotting fiction – has undergone a difficult time of late, but that the tide is turning. The grassroots Scottish literary scene is dynamic and vibrant, and has transfomed in response to social media and changes in the publishing climate. My personal view is that 'Tartan Noir', while written by some highly skilled writers and clearly appreciated by audiences, has become such a saleable brand that it has eclipsed the more radical and experimental tradition which last flourised in Scotland in the 1990s
It's known that these things happen in cycles. There will always be people with views that are in opposition to the status quo so there will always be writing that questions it. And yes, the idea of a 'saleable brand' is a problem. When we're working in an artistic industry which often assesses its value in terms of financial success and literary prizes some people are always going to have an issue with writing that challenges the system that has provided many with a certain status or level of financial security. Trainspotting shouldn't have been a success. But it succeeded for the reasons marginalised writing will always succeed: It fought its way up through the cracks. And it was cool as fuck. It feels like there's something similar happening just now. Dissenting voices are everywhere and in literature as in life they're starting to get through. It's from the bottom up and at some point writers, readers, journalists, whoever, will hear them.
What is a dissenting voice? In the past I was labelled a writer of 'Tartan Noir' (with a smear of vegemite). Does that mean I started a book thinking: 'I’m going to be unoriginal and unquestioning in order to sell to my numbskull readers'? Of course not. I’ve always started with the aim of writing something authentic and mind-blowing (though it doesn’t always go to plan …) 'Tartan Noir' can be both radical and challenging. The branding doesn’t change the product, though it may help sales.
Why do people buy books? For stimulation and entertainment. People liked Trainspotting. If someone writes an experimental book that folk enjoy, then presumably they’ll spread the word – and this is so much easier now thanks to social media.
There’s nothing stopping good writing of any kind making it through the cracks. But to be successful, it must appeal to readers.
I think there has been something stopping good writing (and to me that means writing which is honest, fearless and entertaining too) becoming commercially successful. It’s the reason why Kafka was pretty much unpublished in his lifetime. It’s the reason why, amongst all the winners of the Booker Prize, the sales of Kelman’s How Late it Was How Late are so low in comparison to the vast majority of the others – have a look, it’s sad reading.
I think the debate between ‘literary fiction’ and ‘crime fiction’ has been done a million times before. Does anyone still care? What’s important is that there is good writing being published in Scotland at the moment and that’s refreshing. I pick up books like Duncan McLean’s Bucket of Tongues or Laura Hird’s Nail and I get excited. I read Agnes Owens, Alasdair Gray, Tom Leonard and I feel happy that I share a similar background to these people. There’s writing about just now that makes me feel excited and, to me, that’s what’s important. I don’t care if the writer is from Scotland or not. It just so happens that at the moment there is important work from here being written and sometimes published. We'd be stupid not to embrace that.
I agree with you both, to a certain extent: good novels are good novels regardless of orgin or genre. Of course crime writers – or certainly the talents which we have in this country – start out from a position of integrity. But it is much more difficult for Scottish literary fiction (and for the purposes of this discussion lets make a distinction not of quality but of form) to navigate its way through the marketplace. Sure people liked Trainspotting, and that’s why it was successful, but in the retail climate of the early 90s it was possible for an idiosyncratic work like that to be supported locally. Trainspotting spread because of the enthusiasm of Edinburgh booksellers. Welsh himself has admitted it could never have happened for him now. The problem has been that, in the last twelve years, with the demise of Ottakers and Borders, Waterstones became the only game in town. Their stock was controlled from the South of England, regardless of regional tastes. The only Scottish writers they were interested in promoting were crime writers, because of the brand. This is not the fault of crime writers themselves (or readers, for that matter), but of the marketplace. Novelists who were taking creative risks – Ewan Morrison, Suhayl Saadi, Sophie Cooke, Kevin MacNeill – were just not made visible in bookshops in the same way. This is why the performance literature scene, events like Words Per Minute and Discombobulate, took off. It was the only way we could reach audiences! It is encouraging, however, that Waterstones have now changed strategy to give local stores more autonomy (like, duh). This has happened just as a new wave, exemplified by Mr Wilson here, are poised to rise up. One last thing: history has just given us a gift. We are the generation who might see this nation finally become independent. It’s an extraordinary time to be a Scottish writer.
I can’t believe my luck that I’m a writer in Scotland at the moment. At last, the forty year old virgin might move out of home. And of course he’ll be more confident, take more risks, and write with more passion once he does. I can feel the buzz in the number of events taking place every week in Glasgow – on my Facebook page at the moment there are at least five things I want to go to – from Stage to Page to Words per Minute to something called Margins.
It’s a grand time – not only for our confidence, but for the way we’re heard. So much experimental writing is coming out on blogs and with digital publishers. And the immediacy of online communities inspires, motivates and supports.
So I’m done with negativity and arguments about what’s literary and what’s Scottish. I refuse to feel anything other than excited.
Who are going to be the hot writers this year?
I read great stuff every week. People not necessarily well known, maybe not even wanting to be well known, but their voices are inspiring and show that writing is worthwhile whether its published or not. I'm thinking Alan Mcmunnigall, Joe Murphy, Gillian Mayes, James Connarty, Stuart Blackwood, Brian Hamill, Kirstin Innes. Of course, it's not just the new that's exciting. This year sees books from James Kelman, Irvine Welsh and Rodge Glass. Excited? I'm away for for a dance.
William Letford is a remarkable poet: amazing performer, huge heart, very engaging, and he's writing about working-class life, which we need more of. I really loved Neil Butler's recent debut too, The Roost, about teenage goings-on in Shetland, with all its darkness and energy. He's still in his twenties and I think he'll go on to do great things.
I've been waiting for more from Lisa O'Donnell since she won the Orange Screenwriting Prize in 2000. At last, her debut novel is coming: The Death of Bees (March 2012). I was lucky enough to read the manuscript – it's the most original and incredible piece of writing I've come across in years.
Margins Festival, Fri 24–Sun 26 Feb