Average Reviews:
(More customer reviews)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.
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