Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; Choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye've produced. Choose life. Well, ah choose no tae choose life. If the cunts cannae handle that, it's thair fuckin problem." (187-188)Trainspotting is the story of a group of Scottish junkies, drifting in and out of each others lives, depending on who has got drugs, who is clean, who is shagging who, who's HIV positive, who's in jail etc. We follow their lives closely, through the daily interjections, the desperate attempts to get clean and just needing one more shot before doing so, with HIV lurking in the background and not always claiming the ones who deserves it the most or who has taken the most risks.The book is written in the Scottish accent and it takes a wee bit of getting used to. But after a couple of pages, this just add to the flavour of the book. The book is harsh and direct. It's definitely not for the faint of heart or the weak-minded. There are very graphic scenes dealing with having to shoot up in the cock because it's the only place where one can still find useable veins, a really disgusting toilet scene, a really sociopathic dog killing scene, a baby girl dying of cot disease and some very disturbing pages dealing with one man taking revenge on another man for indirectly giving him the HIV virus - the revenge deals with hurting the man's five year old son, first by giving him the HIV virus too but when he proves to small, he has to be 'enlarged' ... But through all these horrors, a stark reality shines. This is what life is for a junky and the way they care most about avoiding the police and hiding away their stash when the little baby girl is found dead - and at a number of other points when dreadful things happen around them - really shows junkies as they are.For me, reading Trainspotting was kind of a weird experience. For most of the book, I didn't like it and it took me quite a few days to get halfway through it. But then it picked up, I liked it better and I read the last half faster. And thinking back on it, I feel better about the first part.When reading the first part, it felt disjointed, I got confused as to what character I was reading about, the whole thing just melted together and was chaotic and kind of staccato flashes in and out of character's lives and jumping around chronologically and with regards to point of view. But then, I reckon, that's pretty much what junkies' lives are like. And even though I'm still to some extent confused as to who did what with whom, this realisation made the book a lot better for me.The second half of the book really improves, starting with when we follow the parents to one of the characters trying to help him get clean. Of course, they really know nothing about drugs and what it means to be a junkie, but they take their boy home and keep him under close surveillance while trying their best to get their son back. The description of their desperate attempt to help him and his reaction to it, is written so well and - as far as I can imagine - spot on, and these scenes really impressed me. They mean well, and they mean well tae me, but there's nae way under the sun that they can appreciate what ah feel, what ah need. Protect me from those who wish tae help us. (190)Maybe, probably, the book deserves a higher rating. But it - and it's protagonists - just being so damn unlikeable and so lacking in empathy combined with my problems with the first half, make me settle for a 3 star rating.Oh, and don't ever, ever, mess with a waitress! You don't know what she'll serve you ...
Well folks, I made it out of Trainspotting alive. A bit worse for wear, but alive. What a linguistic, cringe-worthy adventure that was! If you're sensitive to... well pretty much anything, steer clear. Luckily, I was able to stomach what turned out to be a refreshingly challenging read. I tip my hat to you Mr. Welsh. Take aways? 1. Not that this is the discovery of the age, but don't do heroin. Just don't. It's probably the worst idea anyone ever had.2. If you're going to read this, prepare to read everything "aloud" at least in your head. It's written in a coarse Scottish dialect that is spelled phonetically, so pronouncing how the words are actually spelled is the only way to pick it up quickly and move through this book with any kind of speed. Don't worry, though, you'll get it after a few pages. And there is a handy glossary of terms for all the Scottish slang at the back that I found extremely useful! 3. Even heroin addicts have important things to say and unique ways of saying them (case in point below). Welsh's characters make no apologies for themselves. They take. They rationalize. They use. They ruin their lives and the lives others without regret because they feel the childhood promise of living a happy life by simply obtaining a regular job, having family and taking on all responsibilities that go with it is a lie. They rationalize that this kind of life is a prison and using with no responsibility is true freedom. Like any group of extremists, the characters fail to see the prison of their own addiction at any point in the novel. From needle to grave, their brains inhabiting their shell-like exteriors have but one mission: one more score. This reoccurring theme is so ugly you feel physically sickened by it. Any writing that can evoke an emotion that strong is worthy of your attention. This is probably my favorite excerpt from the novel. One of the most beautiful analogies for addiction and a great taste of the novel for anyone considering it.Junk Dilemmas No. 63Ah'm just lettin it wash all over me, or wash through me... clean me oot fae the inside. This internal sea. The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads ay poisonous flotsam and jetsam... that poison is diluted by the sea, but once the ocean rolls out, it leaves the shite behind, inside ma body. It takes as well as gives, it washes away ma endorphins, ma pain resistance centres; they take a long time ta come back. The wallpaper is horrific in this shite-pit ay a room. It terrorizes me. Some coffin-dodger must have put it up years ago... appropriate, because that's what ah am, a coffin-dodger, and ma flexes are not getting any better... but it's all here, all within ma sweaty grasp. Syringe, needle, spoon, candle, lighter, packet ay powder. It's all okay, it's all beautiful; but ah fear that this internal sea is gaunnae subside soon, leaving this poisonous shite washed up, stranded in ma body.Ah start tae cook up another shot. As ah shakily haud the spoon ower the candle, waitin for the junk tae dissolve, ah think; more short-term sea, more long-term poison. This thought though, is nowhere near sufficient tae stop us fae daein what ah huv tae dae.
Do You like book Trainspotting (2004)?
I recently read this, one of my top all-time books, again. And I say everyone else should read it too (unless you have a weak-stomach when it comes to images of hard drug use and unpleasant bodily functions). As soon as you get used to the he Scottish slang and phonetic-spelling, you'll realize it's one of the most amazing books ever in terms of idiomatic language and dialogue. Gen-Xers may also relate to the theme of disaffection --there's the "choose life" speech made famous by the movie. ( The movie was fine, but this is a reading experience.) Note that there is a glossary of Scottish slang in the back of American editions, which I didn't realize on first read and had a devil of a time tring to figure out what a bairn is.
—Janice
Probably the most famous passage from the book: "Whin yir oan junk, aw ye worry about is scorin. Oaf the gear, ye worry aboot loads ay things. Nae money, cannae git pished. Goat money, drinkin too much. Cannae git a burd, nae chance ay a ride. git a burd, too much hassle, canne breathe withoot her gitten oan yir case. Either that, or ye blow it, and feel aw guilty. Ye worry aboot bills, food bailiffs, these Jambo Nazi scum beatin us, aw the things that ye couldnae gie a fuck aboot whin yuv goat a real junk habit. Yuv just goat one thing tae worry aboot. The simplicity ay it aw. Ken whit ah mean? Rento stops to give his jaws another grind." I've read this book three times now. Once during high school, once during college, and once as an adult. Reading this book feels like going home. It makes me believe that really great books can be found anywhere. In some ways I feel the book is a product of the 80s, but I remember it as an essential part of the 90s. For some reason, the Renton's mates seem like the most universal set of characters in the world. Everyone has one friend who is a lady-killer like Sick Boy, a good-hearted man like Spud, a stalwart like Tommy, and an absolute bastard like Begby. As for Mark, well, he is the dude most likely to be the one narrating the tale. I sensitive, never-do-weller who is too sensitive for his own good. Who of us hasn't had these problems; who of us hasn't had friends like these; who us hasn't wanted an escape from the tedium of modern life? Others on goodreads have analyzed the novel from a writerly perspective. I wonder how the book got published--because it is a bad book, but because it is so uniquely good that you only realize how good it is by investing your time in reading it again and again (and learning the slang if you don't know Scottish dialect). The book seems to be authentic because it doesn't try too hard to be something it's not. Perhaps that's the message for writers reading this book: be who you are as a writer, for good or ill, and hopefully it will all work. Or, you can just give up writing and live a normal, happy, healthy life. Whin yir off the writing, all you think about is writing. Oan the writing, ye worry aboot loads ay things. Nae money, cannae git an agent. Goat an agent, won't return your calls. Cannae git a publisher, nae chance ay a making it. Git a publisher, too much hassle, canne breathe withoot them gitten oan yir case. Either that, or ye blow it, and feel aw guilty. Ye worry aboot bills these effete critics beatin us, aw the things that ye couldnaegie a fuck aboot whin yuv given up the writing.
—Daniel Clausen
I was recommended this book by a friend as it is one of his favourite books. After hearing that it was written in Scottish, I just had to give it a go.Trainspotting is one of those books that has gained "cult" status, partly due to the film and I was worried that I would be disappointed. I needn't have worried!Rather than one story, this book is a collection of short stories about a group of friends living in the less well off areas of Edinburgh in the nineties. It's full of sex, drugs and violence and at some points is quite an uncomfortable read. But despite some of the characters undesirable characteristics, they are all likeable in some way and you want to know more about them.This is not a book full of gratuitous sex and violence, it addresses a variety of hard topics, including drug and alcohol addictions, rape, HIV, feminism, the IRA situation of the nineties and politics.This is not a light read and is very dark, but I enjoyed it, despite the bits that made me feel uncomfortable. But, without those uncomfortable bits I'm sure it would not have reached the status it has. I would recommend it if you don't mind reading about harder subjects and how some of the lower working class live. I look forward to reading more of Irvine Welsh's work.
—Sheli
