The Good Times

by James Kelman

These 20 first-person narratives portray ordinary people in a language that makes glory of their lives. The narrators are men and boys who come face to face with uncomfortable truths, whether musing on mortality, encountering betrayals, or struggling to understand women and work.

Genres: Short Stories, Fiction, Scotland

246 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1998

About the author

Kelman says:

My own background is as normal or abnormal as anyone else's. Born and bred in Govan and Drumchapel, inner city tenement to the housing scheme homeland on the outer reaches of the city. Four brothers, my mother a full time parent, my father in the picture framemaking and gilding trade, trying to operate a one man business and I left school at 15 etc. etc. (...) For one reason or another, by the age of 21/22 I decided to write stories. The stories I wanted to write would derive from my own background, my own socio-cultural experience. I wanted to write as one of my own people, I wanted to write and remain a member of my own community.

During the 1970s he published a first collection of short stories. He became involved in Philip Hobsbaum's creative writing group in Glasgow along with Tom Leonard, Alasdair Gray and Liz Lochhead, and his short stories began to appear in magazines. These stories introduced a distinctive style, expressing first person internal monologues in a pared-down prose utilising Glaswegian speech patterns, though avoiding for the most part the quasi-phonetic rendition of Tom Leonard. Kelman's developing style has been influential on the succeeding generation of Scottish novelists, including Irvine Welsh, Alan Warner and Janice Galloway. In 1998, Kelman received the Stakis Prize for "Scottish Writer of the Year" for his collection of short stories 'The Good Times.'
http://www.contemporarywriters.com/au...

Reviews

[Sean Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

"The freedom would not come..."

These aren't characters; these are real people, people you know, people on your street, people you walk by in a city or at your work. James Kelman brings alive human consciousness in these utterly brilliant short stories, so full of life. These people are like us, grappling with life's uncertainties, decisions, memories and relationships. Set in and around Glasgow, we encounter disillusioned, existential outsiders, some paranoid, others emotionally unstable and some philosophically astute, all attempting to find meaning to these uncertainties. Filled with angst, despair, hope, paranoia and humour, this is another one of Kelman's greatest efforts.

[Russell George · Rating 3 out of 5]

When this sort of stream of consciousness style works, it’s brilliant. And sometimes here it did. But too often I wondered where the narrative was underneath the voice, and occasionally I wondered what the point of the piece was at the end. That said, I do find his style strangely addictive. It’s just perhaps a bit hit or miss as to whether you get anything more from these stories than the vibrant immediacy of the way they're told.

[Aaron (Typographical Era) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Solid tales told in stream of consciousness from the male perspective. At times stylistically Kelman reminds me of Scottish Jose Saramago, though his characters never go through truly anything extraordinary.

[Steven · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kelman's one of the best we have around, man. Fucking read him...all of it...

[Rose · Rating 1 out of 5]

Not my cup of tea.

[Jack Deighton · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a collection of Kelman's short stories. Most contain West of Scotland phrases and dialogue. Two are written in absolutely standard English (apart from the contractions for was not, did not, could not etc - which appear without apostrophes throughout the book.) I Was Asking a Question Too concerns a man who notes down snippets he thinks are important from the books he reads, and Some thoughts that morning, the random musings of a commuter on the Glasgow Underground heading east from Hillhead to Kelvingrove.

The other stories feature; a man good at climbing buildings, rones and roofs; another, fond of books, who is happy at the changes garden work has made in his physique; workplace gripes and arguments; a married man scaring his family by contemplating swimming over a nuclear submarine; a conversation in a Job Centre queue; a young father imagining what it would have been like to have worked as a fur trapper; a man going through stages of despair and disorganisation after his woman has left him; another at odds with his wife as they browse a charity shop; one more finding himself reminiscing about his schooldays as he nurses his drinks in a pub while waiting for his wife to turn up; another tries to dodge being seen as he appears to be drowning a cat; another muses on how relationships turn sour, someone thinks about how viscous his blood is when he cuts himself preparing vegetables; a divorcee of five years is annoyed when his mate uses him as cover for cheating on his wife; a man of no fixed abode rambles the south coast and remembers his past life; a couple banter about her woman’s intuition; a young man tries to fathom out his girlfriend; a middle-aged insomniac thinks things could be worse.

In the longest story, Comic Cuts, a group of Scottish men gathered in someone’s house in London after a night in the pub shoot the breeze while waiting for soup that never arrives. Their conversation is full of digressions, interruptions and non-sequiturs, and not without intellectual hi-jinks.

Reminiscing about the times when Scotland regularly beat the English at football gives us the thought, “Funny thing but we were a crabbit bunch of bastards at the same time. Nowadays every cunt gubs us and we’re fucking cheery about it. Maybe if we stopped being so fucking cheery we’d start winning again. The tartan army and aw that crap, we used to be the worst hooligans of the fucking lot. See this stuff about good-natured fans? it’s a load of shite.”

One of the protagonists is of the opinion, “Men are more romantic than women of course that goes without saying,” but goes on to say, “It’s just how I am, a demonstrative person, a most untypical Scottish male.”

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 3 out of 5]

A little more inconsequential and fragmented than Kelman’s earlier collections, The Good Times explores the more comedic side of the legendary Glasgow writer’s talent, especially in the adapted radio play ‘Comic Cuts’, an utterly surreal riff on Waiting for Godot, with soup instead of Godot.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Apart from possibly Agnes Owen, Kelman's short stories are the best around

[Bob · Rating 4 out of 5]

I need to read some more of this guy...