Dead Men's Trousers (Mark Renton, 5)

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Non c'è una fava di posto al sole. Non c'è uno stronzo di futuro. C'è solo l' adesso. Ed è una merda, e sta peggiorando. Begbie, as we learned from The Blade Artist, is outwardly apparently a reformed character and is now Jim Francis, artist and sculptor living in California with his wife and two young daughters. I love these boys, and reading this book was murder. Desperate to just zoom through, to inhale the violence, the shagging, the plots, the revenge, I forced myself to go as slowly as possible and savour every moment. It was torture. Welsh makes these amoral misadventures so propulsive, so joyfully awful, that you have to go with the flow…this roues’ romp is about as much fun as you can have between two book covers.”— The Times

In this the latest and apparently last novel in the series, the gang, now all in middle age are thrown together for one last enterprise. Dove se non in un romanzo, un barman asporta un rene ad un donatore ignaro seguendo un tutorial su youtube? Irvine Welsh writes with style, imagination, wit, and force, and in a voice which those alienated by much current fiction clearly want to hear.”– Times Literary Supplement They were nice lads and the fact that they're in soldier uniform is constant proof that a nation state isnae a kind of construct if you urnae rich. Mikey gies ays a grim smile. Looks around, lowers ehs voice, leans intae ays. — A kidney, Spud. A human kidney: for a life-saving operation.What we are trading that for is years of entertainment, and I for one will take it. But I definitely understand if others aren't into this diluting of the "franchise." As said, I'm into it and I'm entertained. Replace ice … Whoa, man, no sae sure aboot that. Ice is pure natural like, well, it’s usually made artificially in fridges like, but in its natural state in the polar regions – Welsh presents several sub-plots within which he can introduce and withdraw his characters. The two book vendetta with the American policeman is a good example of this. The blurb flags up that a major character is going to die and it's clear who the likely candidate is, but Welsh skilfully sows doubt right up to the tragedy occurring. Previously peacable characters explode with sudden violence as decades long resentments boil over, particularly where characters have literally been too clever for their own good. A spectacular return of the wild, dissolute gang from Trainspotting, from the author the New York Times called “Blisteringly funny…. ” For all the sound and fury about “neoliberal Christmas” (the subhead for part one), Renton and Begbie have become a cultural brand, safe and replicable.

A] fitting send-off… When he’s at his best, Welsh spins a story of four men broken by addiction and betrayal; old friends who’ve shared their youths, somehow lived through them, and just can’t quite seem to let go.”– NPR Gone are most of the things which made Welsh great in the first place - the original cultural references, the Scots dialect, the counter-culture/drugs scene, basically anything distinctively to do with contemporary Scottish life. Dead Men's Trousers, like The Blade Artist, feels extremely Americanised (or at least obviously written by an author who no longer spends his time with the people and places he writes about - someone who is out of touch, to say the least). I think this might be one of the bigger reasons why his more recent work fails to hit the mark. Spud's character goes through a lot of shit in this novel. But the ending of this book suggests that the next book about these characters could be told from Spud's point of view, through his autobiography. I hope I am right. Frankly, I am such a big fan of these characters that I would read anything put out by Welsh. Mark Renton (Rents/Rent Boy) is now manager to a small stable of club DJ’s and spends his life on planes and in hotels, seeing to their every need. Mi sgomenta un po' adesso iniziare un nuovo romanzo, ho riso parecchio per alcuni passaggi, ho rallentato perché la lettura durasse il più possibile.Carl’s been dragging his flight case ay records wi him, perspiring like a Thatcher Cabinet minister wi the education portfolio up for grabs, and looking dangerously red.

I loved Dead Men’s Trousers the first time around and after rereading Trainspotting just before rereading DMT, I loved it even more this time. You're nothing but a work-in-progress until that day you fall out of this world into the land ay dead men's trousers. The stewardess, not the lovely Jenny I was chatting tae, but a low-rent, pleb-serving, varicose-veined battleaxe, bike-rode into decrepitude over decades by the few hetero pilots, without even a hint of a sparkler thrown into the mix, is right over, her crabbit pus rammed into my coupon.

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But everyone other than Spud is comparatively rich – most especially the Miami-based Welsh himself – and they all spend their time in pursuit of the “more” that will finally fill their empty spaces. Other than for the tying up of some old loose ends, Dead Men's Trousers is a fairly pointless read. Even so, every now and then, Welsh throws in an old school passage that made me smile: