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Friday 5 December 2008

Kieron Smith, Boy

A masterpiece of boyhood recalled

Andro Linklater on James Kelman's new novel

The salient landmarks in Kieron’s world are the familiarity of the slum where his story begins, the strangeness of the new housing scheme where it ends, and the kindliness that makes his grandparents’ apartment a constant refuge. The dangers of being dunked in the Clyde are much less than those presented by the savage tribes of children roaming these worlds. Kieron’s voice has the confiding, advisory tone of a clever child trying to explain how to negotiate a video-gamelike stream of rewards and violence.

Oh but then Podge caught a wee Primary 2. He was just a bully. We were down at the shops and he caught him. That was the worst. Open yer mouth till I see yer teeth. The wee Primary 2 done it and Podgie spat right in. A greaser down to his tonsils. Podgie said that, Oh it is a big greaser.

The edgy fear is inescapable — ‘Even if there are big sentry lions sitting at the gates and if ye want to get through, ye have to pass them, huge big lions, a pack of them’ — but so is the child’s resilience as he learns the rules that divide Papes from Prods, big boys from little, and takes pride in abilities that help him survive — football, skill at climbing, and a courage unconsciously absorbed from his grandfather’s love for him. It is this emotional warmth that is so surprising, and more sensed than explained. Only at the very last, when the boy imagines losing his grip and falling from a high tree does he recognise what has always saved him.

So yer granda would be there, his spirit would come to yer rescue, maybe a hard blowing wind to stop ye hitting the ground heid first, ye would land one foot at a time, nice and soft, and just get up and walk away. Oh that was lucky and it would be, except if it was him, yer granda.

So that’s it — Kelman has not only written the finest book of his life, a prose poem to be lauded to the skies, but achieved the full-blown antisyzygy, harsh actuality slap incompatibly bang up against heartswelling, eyewelling optimism. Praise be.

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