Marabou Stork Nightmares

My first time through this book I thought Irvine Welsh had completely reinvented himself. The beginning of the novel left me thinking that the entirety was going to be some deranged acid trip of whiring images and slurred sounds. It doesn't take long for Welsh to slip into his familiar role of Edinburgh scheme documentarian, a role of which he is the master.The reader travels between Roy Strang's African dreamland and his memory of growing up in the toughest part of Edinburgh. Gradually, you realize that the African element of the novel is the least important to informing the characters in this book. Through the schemie flashbacks the reader comes to sympathize with Roy despite his less than stellar moral fiber. In Roy Strang Welsh has built up a character so strong that you almost (ALMOST) feel sorry for what happens to him in the end. This novel gets slagged because it apparently doesn't live up to Trainspotting, but Welsh has taken the best parts of that novel (the character development, the schemie imagery, etc.) and applied to one central character. At times you almost forget that Roy lies comatose in a hospital, but you will remember the images Welsh puts into your mind. Do yourself a favor and read this book.

I recently re-read this book, and the subtleties, the drive, and stories behind it blew me away more than the first time. The story follows Rob Strang, lying in a hospital bed in a coma, yet hearing the voices of those who visit. This triggers memories of his childhood, his youth and his secret so D e e p that even he does not remember them at first. Between them is a party of British Colonials, hunting down the Marabou Stork. He captures the reality of poor Scottish life of alcoholism, of drug use, and dysfunctional families with a tender bitterness yet he is able to transform his writing to the fantasy of colonial Africa, and the blood lust of those who ruled. In between chapters Welsh takes you on different journeys, to different parts of the world, so different that you can not understand how it all reconciles in the end, but it does. If I told you more of the story, I may ruin some of the magic and horror of this book. So I will have to restrain from talking about the bigger picture because part of the pleasure of this book is figuring it out youself. Let's just say, the first time I read it. I sat outside my room in a hostel, on a cold hard concrete floor, semi-wet from the humidity during torrential rains at 2-5am because I could bare to part with it. Irvine Welsh, for all his pop sensibilities, and the topics he chooses to write, is honestly one of the best writers of his generation. For all lustful literary blab aside, this story is a great read and you will come out of it, as if you were in a coma yourself.

Irvine Welsh doesn't just write words, he directs them, places them and arranges them into attention grabbing, authentic sounding and stylish prose. More amazing is the fact that this whole novel reads like the uncensored thoughts streaming from a brain of a very troubled individual. His writing resembles a film director who combines style and substance into a devestating whole. He tells the story of Roy Strang, no actually Roy Strang tell the story of Roy Strang. He is lying a coma now, and his story takes place on three different levels of consciousness. When close to the surface, he hears the people around him, circling his hospital bed. But he always wants to go deeper, to escape that pathetic world. The next level of consciousness is his memories, undoctered and vicious, his memories of growing up in the schemes(or projects) of Edinburgh and his uncle's house in South Africa are both morbidly funny and frightening. Deeper still is a bizzare fantasy in the African safaries where hunts his demons personified in a particularly ugly bird called the Marabou Stork. If you've read Welsh's equally brilliant Filth you'd know that his novels are basically a coat of nihilism covering a deeply tragic core. You may laugh now and then, but there is always a general unease. This is the story of how a funny looking kid with big ears became a social atrocity. And the ending of this tale, which I wouldn't dare reveal here will leave you shaken. This is a superb novel, that connects like a blow to the gut, and when Roy narrates in reference to his actions "You do this because you think if you're hurting them you can't be hurt." You realise that this seemingly brutal story is infact the story of his redemption.

Irvine Welsh really struck gold with this novel. I cannot stress enough that you read this book as it is one of the most creative books that I have ever had the pleasure of reading. I've read Trainspotting, The Acid House, and now this and I must say it is my favorite. The main character Roy is hard not to like and feel for in his mental struggles between his current bedridden state and his flashbacks/fantasies. The scottish dialect in this novel isn't as strong and hard to understand as many of Irvine's other works so there really is no reason to pass this gem up.

I certainly can't think of any witty comments or intense phrases to say about this novel, to be perfectly honest I can't think that fast. I guess I'll just stick with something old-fashioned: What a great book! As bland as that may seem people, it sums it up. It truley is a great book, if, of course, you can take a little warped imagination with a crude front. If you can't I suggest maybe some Danielle Steel.