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Marabou Stork Nightmares
Roy Strang's real life makes his worst nightmares look like vacations. In a hospital room in Edinburgh Roy Strang lies in a coma--which doesn't save him from reliving the sordid developments that brought him to this state. He seems at times to be engaged in a strange quest in a surrealist Africa to eradicate the evil predator-scavenger bird the marabou stork before it drives away the peace-loving flamingos from Lake Torto.
But Roy's hallucinatory adventures keep being interrupted by troubling memories of his bizarre family, the housing project in which he grew up, a disastrous emigration to South Africa, and his youthful life of casual brutality as a club-hopping soccer thug. Meanwhile his parents and his nurse bombard his inert form with inane conversation, even more inane pop music, and intimate massage...
As these worlds collide, Marabou Stork Nightmares mutates into the sort of combination of violence, pathos, and outrageous hilarity that only Irvine Welsh can pull off.
But Roy's hallucinatory adventures keep being interrupted by troubling memories of his bizarre family, the housing project in which he grew up, a disastrous emigration to South Africa, and his youthful life of casual brutality as a club-hopping soccer thug. Meanwhile his parents and his nurse bombard his inert form with inane conversation, even more inane pop music, and intimate massage...
As these worlds collide, Marabou Stork Nightmares mutates into the sort of combination of violence, pathos, and outrageous hilarity that only Irvine Welsh can pull off.
264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1997
262 people are currently reading
12288 people want to read
About the author
Irvine Welsh
128 books7,597 followersProbably most famous for his gritty depiction of a gang of Scottish Heroin addicts, Trainspotting (1993), Welsh focuses on the darker side of human nature and drug use. All of his novels are set in his native Scotland and filled with anti-heroes, small time crooks and hooligans. Welsh manages, however to imbue these characters with a sad humanity that makes them likable despite their obvious scumbaggerry. Irvine Welsh is also known for writing in his native Edinburgh Scots dialect, making his prose challenging for the average reader unfamiliar with this style.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 602 reviews
September 19, 2015
It’s about a coma patient who calls everyone a cunt as he’s chasing a big stork through South Africa.
December 18, 2014
Irvine Welsh was the literary hero among my generation of working-class Central Belt Scots for his graphic novels set in Edinburgh sink estates, riddled with sex, drugs, violence, and written in dextrously rendered phonetic dialect. I avoided reading Welsh, since a witless moron at my school rated Trainspotting his favourite book, and thereafter I associated him readers who would read his books to laugh at the banter of the characters, misunderstanding Welsh’s more sober intentions to expose the shocking lives of fear and misery at the heart of places like the scheme in this novel, revelling instead in the casual hedonism aspect. Plus, I have never felt Scottish enough for Scots-centric books to speak to me. This, Welsh’s overlooked second novel, is an interesting experiment in the old coma-patient narrative, weaving a surreal/metaphorical tale of African Marabou stork-hunting around the protagonist Roy Strang’s upbringing in Edinburgh and South Africa, and his adult life as a football thug. A devastating gang rape forms the moral kernel of the novel and Welsh excels in particular in the scenes of tense horror and violence, and is less successful with the surreal humour. Smaller font size and various typographical quirks are employed to reasonable effect (with nods to Hubert Selby), although the overall product is somewhat muddled in its response to the rape (pushing into didactic repentance towards the novel’s faux-shocking over-the-top finale).
December 20, 2024
SPOILERS AHEAD
synopsis: a lad's life is described, as are his homoerotic dreams about stork hunting. after participating in a lengthy gang rape of a local girl and, later, experiencing the euphoric highs of ecstasy, the young man begins to learn a lot about himself and a little about life. he comes to understand that nihilism and gang rape are bad. sadly for him, the victim of the gang rape is less self-actualized, and so she eventually scissors his dick off while he's in a coma, chokes him to death with that dick, leaves the scissors in his neck. the end.
per the book's back cover: "lethally funny... outrageous hilarity". did the person who wrote that read the same book that I just read? to honor that summary, I will try to make my review as lethally and outrageously funny and hilarious.
✄
This is one of the most intellectually and emotionally incoherent novels I've read in a long while. But it was definitely worth the read. The writing, on a technical level, is superb. The prose is fantastically creative, unafraid to be completely experimental, and playfully moves from poetic, surreal musings to presumably authentic Edinburgh Scots dialect. I still despised nearly everything about the book.
I get that it could be interesting to give readers the perspective of a lad who participates in a gang rape. This is not exactly a common topic and I'm an open-minded reader. I can think of a couple interesting paths for such a novel to take. It could portray a seemingly normal young man who is so completely entrenched in his patriarchal, misogynist world view - one where women are divided into mothers and whores - and so gang rape is just another fun sport, something that could happen when you've had too much to drink, are horny and aggressive as usual, and out with the boys. I feel like I've met guys like this when I was in college or worked in finance - but maybe I was just taking their various gang rape jokes too literally? Anyway, a story along the lines of American Psycho, except not about a serial killer.
Another path would be to portray a completely debased life, one full of violence and sexual abuse, perhaps life in a community or a country where the mother/whore binary is the norm, and so gang rape is just something that happens or that you participate in because everything and everyone around you is so degraded that gang rape has become something of its own norm. Like, say, a novel similar to the movie City of God or some of the films of Takashi Ishii. I think both sorts of portraits could be illuminating to read. (Although I'd probably never read a book that advertised itself as such; I have certain triggers I suppose, plus I read for entertainment not edification.) Then there's the path of a book like Young Törless, which treats its gang rapes - if you could even call them that - as an intellectual exercise, as metaphor. Which is gross.
Marabou Stork Nightmares doesn't do any of that. Or maybe it does all of that? Which is what may have created the incoherence that so completely aggravated and appalled me. The book is all over the place; it tries to have to have its cake and eat it too. (I don't love that figure of speech, but I'm not sure what would be a better one.)
On the one hand, it wants to be a portrait of total nihilism: the young chav who represents everything that is bad about his lower-class milieu. He's violent. He's a misogynist and a homophobe. He's an ultra-violent football hooligan, despite not really even liking football. Before the gang rape, he sexually assaults both a girl and a boy in high school. He graduates from tormenting insects to repeatedly torturing and then finally killing the family dog (in grueling detail). This is not a normal lad. This is the portrait of a sociopath, full stop. Until perhaps the last 20 pages, he is given practically no positive traits. Similarly, his entire milieu is incredibly debased and disgusting. There is virtually nothing positive about his community; this is a mainly callous and brutal world full of human animals (except that's insulting to animals). Irvine Welsh shows only contempt for such monsters and for the monstrous society they live in; nothing is three-dimensional and no one is humanized. The monstrous antihero gets what he deserves: torture and murder at the hands of a righteous female avenger. Prior to that comeuppance, the reader and the protagonist are inundated with the messaging that "Rape Is Bad" via an anti-rape campaign that is all around town; that message really gets into the lad's head. And so the author can easily maintain that this entire novel is feminist in spirit. It is against gang rape! It is a Rape Is Bad novel and he makes sure that readers leave with that message via the horrific vengeance enacted at the end. Because, otherwise, the reader may not understand that Rape Is Bad? For fuck's sake. Rape Is Bad is Irvine Welch's cake. Let's see how he eats it...
The author does provide context. Namely, the young lad was sexually abused by an uncle when much younger. Those moments take up perhaps a page or two total and are very rarely reflected upon by the protagonist. But I guess they are there to provide the reader a certain understanding: hurt people hurt people. And other cliches. We also see, during the very graphic and extended gang rape, that our hero has mixed feelings about this gang rape and can barely perform during the long night of the gang rape. This doesn't save him in the end, as the victim-turned-avenger appears to confuse his meager participation with the very engaged participation of the gang rape crew's sadistic leader. Which is perhaps tragic, because in the 20 pages prior to the vengeance, our protagonist has finally understood that (1) gang rape is bad, (2) nihilism is bad, (3) ecstasy and raves are good, (4) having a loving partner and loving your outcast brother (who is gay and HIV+, of course) are good, (5) loving life is good, and (6) the person that he truly hates the most is himself. Also because, of all of the rapists, the feminist avenger liked him the most, she actually had a crush on him, pre-rape. Because of course she did. Anyway, the reader gets to experience 20 or so pages of Life Perspective Being Turned Around. Thanks to gang rape! I guess participating in a gang rape can lead to Important Life Lessons. It can really turn a frown upside down. The author seems to think that he has somehow humanized his mad lad protag. This is Irvine Welch eating his cake too.
Question: how in the world could Irvine Welch forget about what happened to the dog? How could he overlook what it means when a person can repeatedly and carefully torture and then kill a family pet? Did the author just forget about those sequences? I can understand casual animal abuse, that happens all the time. But carefully planning out and then enacting a series of animal tortures... does not happen all the time. Does Welch not understand that his protagonist is not just degraded by his environment... he's demonstrably crazy? And does he think that a person can just turn off his severe mental illness after he begins feeling guilty and ashamed due to his participation in a gang rape? Is this characterization supposed to be even remotely realistic?
Perhaps he doesn't care. Marabou Stork Nightmares is, after all, a book where at least half of the action is a fantasy about hunting Marabou storks that is occuring in our protagonist's head as he lies in a coma. The excessiveness in having this bizarre series of dreams being half of the goddamned book was kind of mindblowing. Not in a good way. But it was sort of impressive how completely self-indulgent this author decided to be in making these fantasias fully half of the book. Perhaps he was trying to distract the reader from the lamentably incoherent qualities of the other half of the book, all of the sequences that take place in the supposed real world. A world, and a cast, that weren't even faintly realistic.
All that said, I agree with the book as far as its verdict on Marabou storks go. There were so many of them in Kenya. They were all over the place, these huge, creepy, vulture-like birds that have a peculiarly dead-eyed look. Revolting creatures. They remind me of this revolting book.
synopsis: a lad's life is described, as are his homoerotic dreams about stork hunting. after participating in a lengthy gang rape of a local girl and, later, experiencing the euphoric highs of ecstasy, the young man begins to learn a lot about himself and a little about life. he comes to understand that nihilism and gang rape are bad. sadly for him, the victim of the gang rape is less self-actualized, and so she eventually scissors his dick off while he's in a coma, chokes him to death with that dick, leaves the scissors in his neck. the end.
per the book's back cover: "lethally funny... outrageous hilarity". did the person who wrote that read the same book that I just read? to honor that summary, I will try to make my review as lethally and outrageously funny and hilarious.
✄
This is one of the most intellectually and emotionally incoherent novels I've read in a long while. But it was definitely worth the read. The writing, on a technical level, is superb. The prose is fantastically creative, unafraid to be completely experimental, and playfully moves from poetic, surreal musings to presumably authentic Edinburgh Scots dialect. I still despised nearly everything about the book.
I get that it could be interesting to give readers the perspective of a lad who participates in a gang rape. This is not exactly a common topic and I'm an open-minded reader. I can think of a couple interesting paths for such a novel to take. It could portray a seemingly normal young man who is so completely entrenched in his patriarchal, misogynist world view - one where women are divided into mothers and whores - and so gang rape is just another fun sport, something that could happen when you've had too much to drink, are horny and aggressive as usual, and out with the boys. I feel like I've met guys like this when I was in college or worked in finance - but maybe I was just taking their various gang rape jokes too literally? Anyway, a story along the lines of American Psycho, except not about a serial killer.
Another path would be to portray a completely debased life, one full of violence and sexual abuse, perhaps life in a community or a country where the mother/whore binary is the norm, and so gang rape is just something that happens or that you participate in because everything and everyone around you is so degraded that gang rape has become something of its own norm. Like, say, a novel similar to the movie City of God or some of the films of Takashi Ishii. I think both sorts of portraits could be illuminating to read. (Although I'd probably never read a book that advertised itself as such; I have certain triggers I suppose, plus I read for entertainment not edification.) Then there's the path of a book like Young Törless, which treats its gang rapes - if you could even call them that - as an intellectual exercise, as metaphor. Which is gross.
Marabou Stork Nightmares doesn't do any of that. Or maybe it does all of that? Which is what may have created the incoherence that so completely aggravated and appalled me. The book is all over the place; it tries to have to have its cake and eat it too. (I don't love that figure of speech, but I'm not sure what would be a better one.)
On the one hand, it wants to be a portrait of total nihilism: the young chav who represents everything that is bad about his lower-class milieu. He's violent. He's a misogynist and a homophobe. He's an ultra-violent football hooligan, despite not really even liking football. Before the gang rape, he sexually assaults both a girl and a boy in high school. He graduates from tormenting insects to repeatedly torturing and then finally killing the family dog (in grueling detail). This is not a normal lad. This is the portrait of a sociopath, full stop. Until perhaps the last 20 pages, he is given practically no positive traits. Similarly, his entire milieu is incredibly debased and disgusting. There is virtually nothing positive about his community; this is a mainly callous and brutal world full of human animals (except that's insulting to animals). Irvine Welsh shows only contempt for such monsters and for the monstrous society they live in; nothing is three-dimensional and no one is humanized. The monstrous antihero gets what he deserves: torture and murder at the hands of a righteous female avenger. Prior to that comeuppance, the reader and the protagonist are inundated with the messaging that "Rape Is Bad" via an anti-rape campaign that is all around town; that message really gets into the lad's head. And so the author can easily maintain that this entire novel is feminist in spirit. It is against gang rape! It is a Rape Is Bad novel and he makes sure that readers leave with that message via the horrific vengeance enacted at the end. Because, otherwise, the reader may not understand that Rape Is Bad? For fuck's sake. Rape Is Bad is Irvine Welch's cake. Let's see how he eats it...
The author does provide context. Namely, the young lad was sexually abused by an uncle when much younger. Those moments take up perhaps a page or two total and are very rarely reflected upon by the protagonist. But I guess they are there to provide the reader a certain understanding: hurt people hurt people. And other cliches. We also see, during the very graphic and extended gang rape, that our hero has mixed feelings about this gang rape and can barely perform during the long night of the gang rape. This doesn't save him in the end, as the victim-turned-avenger appears to confuse his meager participation with the very engaged participation of the gang rape crew's sadistic leader. Which is perhaps tragic, because in the 20 pages prior to the vengeance, our protagonist has finally understood that (1) gang rape is bad, (2) nihilism is bad, (3) ecstasy and raves are good, (4) having a loving partner and loving your outcast brother (who is gay and HIV+, of course) are good, (5) loving life is good, and (6) the person that he truly hates the most is himself. Also because, of all of the rapists, the feminist avenger liked him the most, she actually had a crush on him, pre-rape. Because of course she did. Anyway, the reader gets to experience 20 or so pages of Life Perspective Being Turned Around. Thanks to gang rape! I guess participating in a gang rape can lead to Important Life Lessons. It can really turn a frown upside down. The author seems to think that he has somehow humanized his mad lad protag. This is Irvine Welch eating his cake too.
Question: how in the world could Irvine Welch forget about what happened to the dog? How could he overlook what it means when a person can repeatedly and carefully torture and then kill a family pet? Did the author just forget about those sequences? I can understand casual animal abuse, that happens all the time. But carefully planning out and then enacting a series of animal tortures... does not happen all the time. Does Welch not understand that his protagonist is not just degraded by his environment... he's demonstrably crazy? And does he think that a person can just turn off his severe mental illness after he begins feeling guilty and ashamed due to his participation in a gang rape? Is this characterization supposed to be even remotely realistic?
Perhaps he doesn't care. Marabou Stork Nightmares is, after all, a book where at least half of the action is a fantasy about hunting Marabou storks that is occuring in our protagonist's head as he lies in a coma. The excessiveness in having this bizarre series of dreams being half of the goddamned book was kind of mindblowing. Not in a good way. But it was sort of impressive how completely self-indulgent this author decided to be in making these fantasias fully half of the book. Perhaps he was trying to distract the reader from the lamentably incoherent qualities of the other half of the book, all of the sequences that take place in the supposed real world. A world, and a cast, that weren't even faintly realistic.
All that said, I agree with the book as far as its verdict on Marabou storks go. There were so many of them in Kenya. They were all over the place, these huge, creepy, vulture-like birds that have a peculiarly dead-eyed look. Revolting creatures. They remind me of this revolting book.
June 21, 2008
I realize I haven't read Trainspotting, or even a great deal of Irvine Welsh's work, but let me go out on a limb here and say that this is my favorite.
The characters, especially the main character, are all deliciously real. Characteristic of Welsh, in my experience, is the atmosphere of darkness and desperation interjected with some even blacker humor. His ability to get me to sympathize with the main character, even after I'd read the end, was pretty remarkable. And not in the way you like Alex from A Clockwork Orange BECAUSE he's evil.
And the nightmares, well...I won't say the nightmares are the best part because that would be misleading and also advocates a simplistic relationship with this book. But they are fantastic.
The characters, especially the main character, are all deliciously real. Characteristic of Welsh, in my experience, is the atmosphere of darkness and desperation interjected with some even blacker humor. His ability to get me to sympathize with the main character, even after I'd read the end, was pretty remarkable. And not in the way you like Alex from A Clockwork Orange BECAUSE he's evil.
And the nightmares, well...I won't say the nightmares are the best part because that would be misleading and also advocates a simplistic relationship with this book. But they are fantastic.
August 1, 2011
Turns out that Irvine Welsh is not a one-trick pony, he's a one and a half trick pony. He wowed us all with his filthy funny tales of Scottish smackheads in Trainspotting, one of the ALL time black comedies, they don't come any blacker or funnier, and then it was kind of - follow that. So this one does involve similar young Scottish druggies, but it has a plot, which emerges in a similar manner to the spring in Monty Python's Spring Surprise from the Crunchy Frog sketch :
Health inspector: What's this one, 'spring surprise'?
Mr Milton the confectioner: Ah - now, that's our speciality - covered with darkest creamy chocolate. When you pop it in your mouth steel bolts spring out and plunge straight through-both cheeks.
Health inspector: Well where's the pleasure in that?
So Marabou Stork Nightmares is recommended for those who like their fiction to pierce both cheeks.
Health inspector: What's this one, 'spring surprise'?
Mr Milton the confectioner: Ah - now, that's our speciality - covered with darkest creamy chocolate. When you pop it in your mouth steel bolts spring out and plunge straight through-both cheeks.
Health inspector: Well where's the pleasure in that?
So Marabou Stork Nightmares is recommended for those who like their fiction to pierce both cheeks.
December 7, 2008
Stylistically this is Welsh's best work. Along with Glue it's the books of his that show him to be a really great writer who has much more up his sleeve than just drugs and violence (although he writes about these things so well, that it's not a bad thing when I say that). Why this book isn't one of those books people come in to the store looking for all the time is beyond me.
March 20, 2022
Thanks to the nice wee lassie who recommended this novel to this here laddie!
Probably put this on a par with Trainspotting, although this is way more experimental and original. And the language rocks! You know you're in a Welsh novel alright for his signature ferocity and raw energy of language. (I've always had a soft spot for the Scots and their slang). Some of the profanity had me immediately thinking of a certain Mr. Begbie. He gets a single mention here, as somebody's friend working in their shop. (If he short-changed me, I ain't gonna argue with him, ha!) So presumably Marabou Stork Nightmares is set in the same world as Trainspotting. I remember back in day watching Reservoir Dogs for the first time, and thinking 'Jesus, just how many effing F-bombs are there here?' Well, in Marabou Stork Nightmares it's the C word that is trying to set some sort of record!
Welsh doesn't just present us with one nightmare, but two. If it's not Marabous ripping the heads off Flamingos deep down in the subconscious, then it's the most disturbing sexual assault scenes I've probably ever come across. And the ending - not for the squeamish! - was just wow, wow, wow. One ending I'll never forget that's for darn sure. Once the story started to come to together, and you realise just why Roy is wanting to go deeper....deeper......deeper, into his comatose state, Welsh really did hit me for six.
The novel tackles some really serious themes, from hopelessless and violence, to the working-class, extreme predators, and guilt, and it does so without holding back (a few times I found it just too uncomfortable, so opted in the end for four stars instead of five), but the narrative being spilt into two; the separation from the real world, was a masterstoke. The way Welsh pushes and pulls around with Roy's mind was just so well done. I went through so many feeling reading this, and when it comes to the fear; the horridness that awaits upon waking up, then this novel absolutely kills it.
October 17, 2008
In many ways, this book was brilliant: the structure of flitting between his coma state, memories of his childhood, and an African hunting fantasy. Also, the way he physically structures words on the page really conveys the polyphonic stream of consciousness of a person in a coma. And the Scottish phonetic spellings are just plain fun. That said, this book disturbed me as no other book has done--and not in a good way. I genuinely feel traumatized by it. It is not so much the fact that violent things happen (I mean, that is life for some folks) but that it is almost naturalized through the narrative voice which so consistently embodies an incredibly hateful misogyny, homophobia, racism, etc. I mean, sometimes you can't even come up for air, and women are never referred to in anything approaching a humanizing way, always instead as crass sexual objects. Rape, torture, incest, animal torture, sexual abuse, physical abuse, meaningless sex--it's all in here. Lovely.
November 11, 2010
Mind. Blown.
The angle of this story is incredible to begin with; a coma patient tell his story.
Sometimes, he (Roy) slipps close to the surface and hears conversations or music around him, a level below that he recounts actual memories from his life, and even deeper, he hunts the metaphorical stork with his friend and companion, footballer Sandy Jameison. He feels that he will be ready to resurface and wake up when he finally kills the stork, which he believes encompasses everything negative and harmful that he's experienced in his life.
A lot of what Roy recounts from his childhood is sad and pathetic, while much of his adulthood memories are disgusting and violent. Many different mature themes are discussed, such as the drinking of alcohol, taking of illegal drugs, physical violence, rape... this is not a book for the faint of heart.
When I finished it, I just sort of sat there, staring blankly ahead of me, my mind racing with what had just been revealed. It's that sort of book.
If you're not afraid of violent cursing as well as the aforementioned themes, then go ahead and read this fantastic book. Modern Scottish literature at its finest...
Very. Good. Stuff.
The angle of this story is incredible to begin with; a coma patient tell his story.
Sometimes, he (Roy) slipps close to the surface and hears conversations or music around him, a level below that he recounts actual memories from his life, and even deeper, he hunts the metaphorical stork with his friend and companion, footballer Sandy Jameison. He feels that he will be ready to resurface and wake up when he finally kills the stork, which he believes encompasses everything negative and harmful that he's experienced in his life.
A lot of what Roy recounts from his childhood is sad and pathetic, while much of his adulthood memories are disgusting and violent. Many different mature themes are discussed, such as the drinking of alcohol, taking of illegal drugs, physical violence, rape... this is not a book for the faint of heart.
When I finished it, I just sort of sat there, staring blankly ahead of me, my mind racing with what had just been revealed. It's that sort of book.
If you're not afraid of violent cursing as well as the aforementioned themes, then go ahead and read this fantastic book. Modern Scottish literature at its finest...
Very. Good. Stuff.
October 24, 2022
Irvine Welsh warns at the beginning of Marabou Stork Nightmares that he is grateful his family was not like the Strang clan that has an impact on the way Roy Strang, the protagonist in this novel turned out. Hmmm! You've got to be a bit suspicious when a writer puts out a disclaimer like that. Especially when the novel is as disturbing as this one. What was the need? The writer hated his creation and world so much that he needed to tell the reader that he is not like these people? At the center of this novel is a vicious rape. Francis Begbie from the Trainspotting universe makes an appearance and is a friend of one of the rapists. The novel was very clever, the way it was plotted with the dreamy sub-plot about the Storks. It is also a bit of a revenge novel. I need to reread this. I remember being extremely disturbed, the first time I read this. This is one of Welsh's best.
February 22, 2022
This is typical Welsh—drugs, sex, scottish profanity straight from underbelly where everyone's a cunt and all they do is shag. Grislier than others, while not funny as Trainspotting/Renton series.
September 22, 2007
Harsh, inventive, horrifying, and desperately sad. Lacks the glorious sprawl of Trainspotting, which directly preceded it, opting instead for what may be Welsh's most tightly-coiled plotting to date. And his greatest sense of conscience, his strongest turn as a social reformer. The ending, through an appropriate scrim of sensationalism, actually manages to be both heart-rending and insightful, in a manner that Welsh rarely manages.
July 11, 2022
Sometimes irreversible brain damage is not that bad. There are things that make one crave for it, if only as a way out.
Long-term coma is an as yet unsolved enigma: after all is said and done, we have no idea what's going on in a mind whose cables have been severed so completely that life is reduced to the beeps and blips of a machine, testifying to its correct functioning rather than that of the body it is attached to. We pay visit to our unresponsive beloved, touch them, talk to them, play music they may or may not hear, play Jesus and order them to wake up - and generally take it for granted that our knocked-out dear ones can't wait to see us again, that they must be dying to come back and give us a hug.
Except that a comatose patient may not wish to wake up; a guy in a vegetative state may be doing his best not to be brought back to a world he's managed to rid himself of. He might be perceiving our good-willed efforts as the manoeuvres of intruders, threatening his long-awaited peace and constantly reminding him of the ugliness he's left behind. In fact he might be trying to escape from us by plunging deeper and deeper into the coma, where the sickly sun of our world no longer shines but brighter skies and wider horizons are to be found instead, and a promised land is to be conquered.
That's where the Marabou Stork nests, awaiting.
The protagonist of Irvine Welsh's third book (his second novel after Trainspotting) is the comatose Roy Strang, yet another product of the degraded Edinburgh suburbs the author has portrayed so powerfully all throughout his career. A family whose dynamics are at the very least dysfunctional when not overtly self-destructive; the bleakness of life in the housing schemes; the amorality of an impoverished working class struggling to make it through, one way or another; the all-pervading hopelessness and anger, handed down from generation to generation: such is the world this most unreliable narrator has left behind and is unwilling to rejoin.
As he floats in his private limbo, Strang lets the reader slip into his mind. No need to say this is not a nice place. Due to his condition, he's constantly shifting between one level of consciousness and another: physical perception (the nurses performing their daily routine on his body; his family still inflicting their presence on him); memories (from early childhood to the events that lead to his present state); and what can only be defined as a journey through the depths of his psyche, where Roy sets off on an epic Marabou Stork hunting. To him, the foul-smelling scavenger-predator embodies the evil within himself as well as in the outside world. By pursuing the hideous creature through an inner, hallucinatory African dreamscape, populated by avatars and haunted by visions of sex and insanity, Strang slowly comes to terms with the sense of guilt and waste permeating his life, which even the coma can't seem to dispel.
Given such premises, one is hardly surprised to find violence in these pages. In fact there's plenty of it, in all its forms and manifestations, physical and psychological, private and social, against the others and against oneself; domestic, child and animal abuse; misogyny, racism, homophobia, paedophilia; petty crime and gang-rape, hooliganism and Apartheid (the Strangs' awkward attempt to settle in South Africa, scrounging off an uncle, and the predictable outcome of that failure, will change the course of Roy's life for the worse), the controversial late phase of Thatcherism, the Zero Tolerance hysteria. Sure enough, none of this is made up for the sake of shock value as some readers apparently like to believe. These people, these places, this depravity, they do exist. It's all out there in the open, it's a world one either thrives in or dies of, a world ruled by Marabou Storks - nasty, greedy, ruthless, and always out for the kill.
Being familiar with much of the Scottish author's oeuvre, I can safely say this is one of his most interesting works to date.
Although the setting and characters are immediately recognisable to all Trainspotting fans (the house schemes, the Edinburgh dialect in which almost all dialogues are written, the sociopolitical references and satire) the presence of a basically non-communicating narrator is rather more reminiscent of Filth - in which the protagonist's flashbacks are told by the tapeworm that's eating his guts - than of the Trainspotting five-volume series, the latter having a relatively conventional structure. If the choice of a comatose patient as a narrator was indeed a daring option, the way his voice keeps seeping through different planes of consciousness and expression was a stroke of genius, marking a further development of the novelist's talent.
As a matter of fact, this is a politically charged novel, though in a very clever way - as all the author's work tends to be. It depicts the early nineties like only an Irvine Welsh book can do, with merciless lucidity and razor-sharp insight.
No cheap compassion indeed: these characters are far from being decent people. They are victims who deliberately chose to become victimisers, perpetrators inflicting pain and humiliation and feeling entitled to do so, just for fun, just to kill the time. They aren't in a position to beg for anybody's mercy, and deserve none. But their actions are rooted in a social context that must be acknowledged in order to be dealt with, and this is what Welsh's books are really about. They depict both the causes and the effects with equal honesty (some would call it brutality). Even if the trial ends with a death sentence, the reader/judge must follow the proceeding in its entirety and listen to the defence witnesses.
One doesn't need to share the author's view to understand what these characters' day-to-day existence must be like, what it feels like to be them. That's just the way it is, the way they are, the way we hopefully try our best not to be(come).
Long-term coma is an as yet unsolved enigma: after all is said and done, we have no idea what's going on in a mind whose cables have been severed so completely that life is reduced to the beeps and blips of a machine, testifying to its correct functioning rather than that of the body it is attached to. We pay visit to our unresponsive beloved, touch them, talk to them, play music they may or may not hear, play Jesus and order them to wake up - and generally take it for granted that our knocked-out dear ones can't wait to see us again, that they must be dying to come back and give us a hug.
Except that a comatose patient may not wish to wake up; a guy in a vegetative state may be doing his best not to be brought back to a world he's managed to rid himself of. He might be perceiving our good-willed efforts as the manoeuvres of intruders, threatening his long-awaited peace and constantly reminding him of the ugliness he's left behind. In fact he might be trying to escape from us by plunging deeper and deeper into the coma, where the sickly sun of our world no longer shines but brighter skies and wider horizons are to be found instead, and a promised land is to be conquered.
That's where the Marabou Stork nests, awaiting.
The protagonist of Irvine Welsh's third book (his second novel after Trainspotting) is the comatose Roy Strang, yet another product of the degraded Edinburgh suburbs the author has portrayed so powerfully all throughout his career. A family whose dynamics are at the very least dysfunctional when not overtly self-destructive; the bleakness of life in the housing schemes; the amorality of an impoverished working class struggling to make it through, one way or another; the all-pervading hopelessness and anger, handed down from generation to generation: such is the world this most unreliable narrator has left behind and is unwilling to rejoin.
As he floats in his private limbo, Strang lets the reader slip into his mind. No need to say this is not a nice place. Due to his condition, he's constantly shifting between one level of consciousness and another: physical perception (the nurses performing their daily routine on his body; his family still inflicting their presence on him); memories (from early childhood to the events that lead to his present state); and what can only be defined as a journey through the depths of his psyche, where Roy sets off on an epic Marabou Stork hunting. To him, the foul-smelling scavenger-predator embodies the evil within himself as well as in the outside world. By pursuing the hideous creature through an inner, hallucinatory African dreamscape, populated by avatars and haunted by visions of sex and insanity, Strang slowly comes to terms with the sense of guilt and waste permeating his life, which even the coma can't seem to dispel.
Given such premises, one is hardly surprised to find violence in these pages. In fact there's plenty of it, in all its forms and manifestations, physical and psychological, private and social, against the others and against oneself; domestic, child and animal abuse; misogyny, racism, homophobia, paedophilia; petty crime and gang-rape, hooliganism and Apartheid (the Strangs' awkward attempt to settle in South Africa, scrounging off an uncle, and the predictable outcome of that failure, will change the course of Roy's life for the worse), the controversial late phase of Thatcherism, the Zero Tolerance hysteria. Sure enough, none of this is made up for the sake of shock value as some readers apparently like to believe. These people, these places, this depravity, they do exist. It's all out there in the open, it's a world one either thrives in or dies of, a world ruled by Marabou Storks - nasty, greedy, ruthless, and always out for the kill.
Being familiar with much of the Scottish author's oeuvre, I can safely say this is one of his most interesting works to date.
Although the setting and characters are immediately recognisable to all Trainspotting fans (the house schemes, the Edinburgh dialect in which almost all dialogues are written, the sociopolitical references and satire) the presence of a basically non-communicating narrator is rather more reminiscent of Filth - in which the protagonist's flashbacks are told by the tapeworm that's eating his guts - than of the Trainspotting five-volume series, the latter having a relatively conventional structure. If the choice of a comatose patient as a narrator was indeed a daring option, the way his voice keeps seeping through different planes of consciousness and expression was a stroke of genius, marking a further development of the novelist's talent.
As a matter of fact, this is a politically charged novel, though in a very clever way - as all the author's work tends to be. It depicts the early nineties like only an Irvine Welsh book can do, with merciless lucidity and razor-sharp insight.
No cheap compassion indeed: these characters are far from being decent people. They are victims who deliberately chose to become victimisers, perpetrators inflicting pain and humiliation and feeling entitled to do so, just for fun, just to kill the time. They aren't in a position to beg for anybody's mercy, and deserve none. But their actions are rooted in a social context that must be acknowledged in order to be dealt with, and this is what Welsh's books are really about. They depict both the causes and the effects with equal honesty (some would call it brutality). Even if the trial ends with a death sentence, the reader/judge must follow the proceeding in its entirety and listen to the defence witnesses.
One doesn't need to share the author's view to understand what these characters' day-to-day existence must be like, what it feels like to be them. That's just the way it is, the way they are, the way we hopefully try our best not to be(come).
December 17, 2008
Possibly the most disturbing book I have ever read. After I finished the last page I felt like I had been run over by a truck.
May 8, 2021
I read this in 2017, malnourished and with a high fever, while stranded in abu dhabi with hugo. It gave me a panic attack or dissociative episode or something, and caused a small amount of permanent damage to my brain. 4.5 stars, would not recommend.
July 29, 2021
Some books are just perfect for reading over and over again, and any offering from Welsh is worth another punt. The last time I read this was back in 2010, and with the benefit of growing older, I felt I was more deeply embroiled and much further appalled this time than I remember being at the shy age of 23.
Roy is traversing the plains of Africa in a maddening search for the Marabou stork. He’s hellbent on killing the thing, for dubious reasons, and we join him and his pal Sandy in their exploration. All too soon, we’re ejected from Roy’s killing adventure into what seems to be a hospital room. He isn’t in Africa - he’s in a comatose state in a hospital somewhere in Edinburgh, and a cooing nurse is attempting to take his temperature.
Throughout the course of the novel, we journey through three levels of consciousness with Roy, all frightening, all enlightening, and all utterly harrowing. He describes these levels as an incredibly deep well, which he’s climbing both up and down. At times Roy is at the top edge of the well, almost on the brink of waking up; he can hear nurses talking to him, his ma and dad in the room squabbling or playing tapes of both of them singing in an attempt to trigger something in his brain. Slightly further down the well, we focus on Roy’s memories, his life, his mistakes, his regrets. And even further down than this, almost at the bottom, we’re within Roy’s deepest level of unconsciousness, the fantasies of Africa, providing dark metaphor and commentary on both Roy’s memories and current situation.
These levels are an impressive technique, and really depict a feeling of drifting in and out of different situations in our heads as Roy drifts in and out of his awareness of reality. Each of the levels work together to build a fuller picture of Roy - who he is, why he’s there, what he’s done, why he’s battling against waking up. It all comes out slowly, exasperatingly, as though he’s ashamed to tell.
As always, there’s no one to like here, no good characters. All flawed, all dark, all struggling to reach for something, but always real folk you’d meet on the street. They are perfectly characterised, accurately depicted, and their trials are as relatable and heartbreaking as they are in reality.
Welsh always gives us lots of darkness balanced in with loads of black humour and brilliant moments, and although we’re used to it, there’s something just a tiny bit darker about the old Marabou stork than I’ve seen anywhere else.
Roy is traversing the plains of Africa in a maddening search for the Marabou stork. He’s hellbent on killing the thing, for dubious reasons, and we join him and his pal Sandy in their exploration. All too soon, we’re ejected from Roy’s killing adventure into what seems to be a hospital room. He isn’t in Africa - he’s in a comatose state in a hospital somewhere in Edinburgh, and a cooing nurse is attempting to take his temperature.
Throughout the course of the novel, we journey through three levels of consciousness with Roy, all frightening, all enlightening, and all utterly harrowing. He describes these levels as an incredibly deep well, which he’s climbing both up and down. At times Roy is at the top edge of the well, almost on the brink of waking up; he can hear nurses talking to him, his ma and dad in the room squabbling or playing tapes of both of them singing in an attempt to trigger something in his brain. Slightly further down the well, we focus on Roy’s memories, his life, his mistakes, his regrets. And even further down than this, almost at the bottom, we’re within Roy’s deepest level of unconsciousness, the fantasies of Africa, providing dark metaphor and commentary on both Roy’s memories and current situation.
These levels are an impressive technique, and really depict a feeling of drifting in and out of different situations in our heads as Roy drifts in and out of his awareness of reality. Each of the levels work together to build a fuller picture of Roy - who he is, why he’s there, what he’s done, why he’s battling against waking up. It all comes out slowly, exasperatingly, as though he’s ashamed to tell.
As always, there’s no one to like here, no good characters. All flawed, all dark, all struggling to reach for something, but always real folk you’d meet on the street. They are perfectly characterised, accurately depicted, and their trials are as relatable and heartbreaking as they are in reality.
Welsh always gives us lots of darkness balanced in with loads of black humour and brilliant moments, and although we’re used to it, there’s something just a tiny bit darker about the old Marabou stork than I’ve seen anywhere else.
October 25, 2019
This is probably one of the most horrific books I have ever read in my entire life. The list of what wasn't in this book would probably be shorter than what was in this book.
TW: death, gore, animal abuse, graphic animal death, rape (child and gang), violence, torture, drugs, racism, sexism etc
Marabou Stork Nightmares is written by the author who wrote Trainspotting, which in itself is a wild trip - this one was like you went on an extended vacation to the bowels of hell. The blurb of the book says It is the sort of lethally funny cocktail of pathos, violence, and outrageous hilarity that only Irvine Welsh can pull off., I don't know where they got the funny part from because there wasn't a single part of this book that I would even nose exhale at.
I am genuinely disturbed by some of the stuff written in this book - I had to take a breather and then there was some that I just had to skip because I couldn't handle it (namely: Winston Two). I don't think I would ever recommend this book to anyone. I have never read a MC that I have disliked more - though I can understand that violence begets violence, but it's not an excuse.
I can appreciate the literary style that Welsh was going for with this book, that was quite interesting and I liked the way the typography appeared throughout the book - it was quite new, to me, and something I haven't really seen before. The switches from going the nightmares, memories and current time was incredibly well done and I was able to follow whereabouts we were timeline-wise. Unfortunately that's the only part of the book that I can appreciate.
TW: death, gore, animal abuse, graphic animal death, rape (child and gang), violence, torture, drugs, racism, sexism etc
Marabou Stork Nightmares is written by the author who wrote Trainspotting, which in itself is a wild trip - this one was like you went on an extended vacation to the bowels of hell. The blurb of the book says It is the sort of lethally funny cocktail of pathos, violence, and outrageous hilarity that only Irvine Welsh can pull off., I don't know where they got the funny part from because there wasn't a single part of this book that I would even nose exhale at.
I am genuinely disturbed by some of the stuff written in this book - I had to take a breather and then there was some that I just had to skip because I couldn't handle it (namely: Winston Two). I don't think I would ever recommend this book to anyone. I have never read a MC that I have disliked more - though I can understand that violence begets violence, but it's not an excuse.
I can appreciate the literary style that Welsh was going for with this book, that was quite interesting and I liked the way the typography appeared throughout the book - it was quite new, to me, and something I haven't really seen before. The switches from going the nightmares, memories and current time was incredibly well done and I was able to follow whereabouts we were timeline-wise. Unfortunately that's the only part of the book that I can appreciate.
September 14, 2020
Wow. I really enjoyed trainspotting, but this book was on another level. I think it’s going to take me a while to fully process what I have read.
Marabou stork nightmares follows Roy Strang who is in a coma. We see the fantasy world he has created, the memories of his past that slowly creep back and the discussions he can hear happing around his hospital bed.
This book was a truly harrowing read. It was intensely dark and difficult to read at times (because of the topic nature). But I simply did not want to put it down! I loved how unique the writing was. It took me a little while to get used to the writing and what it conveyed, but once I did, it flowed seamlessly.
Roy Strang is a character that I simultaneously despise and feel a great sympathy for. Welsh created a life for him that seemed so real.
I would definitely recommend this book, but only with the warning that some topics may be triggering for some!
Marabou stork nightmares follows Roy Strang who is in a coma. We see the fantasy world he has created, the memories of his past that slowly creep back and the discussions he can hear happing around his hospital bed.
This book was a truly harrowing read. It was intensely dark and difficult to read at times (because of the topic nature). But I simply did not want to put it down! I loved how unique the writing was. It took me a little while to get used to the writing and what it conveyed, but once I did, it flowed seamlessly.
Roy Strang is a character that I simultaneously despise and feel a great sympathy for. Welsh created a life for him that seemed so real.
I would definitely recommend this book, but only with the warning that some topics may be triggering for some!
September 5, 2013
I think my own books are probably mostly influenced by King and Koontz (in a non-horror way), but if ever I need to justify the dialect (in Boys of Summer) or the graphic nature (in Girl Afraid), I turn to Irvine or to Chuck. When people say 'Oh, readers will find it hard to understand what your characters are saying', I point at Trainspotting, Filth, or this one, and go 'NUH-HUH!'.
The people have a point, of course. Not everyone can read an Irvine Welsh book. But there is a sense of smug satisfaction if you can, and happen to Not Be Scottish into the bargain.
This book is in Scottish. And it's fucking horrific. I was taken to school by this novel, in terms of how depraved and vomit-inducing a book can be in its descriptions, and in the general thoughts and behaviour of its characters. And I liked it. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with an author like Alice Sebold, who can tell you a horrific tale, without giving you the gory details. In fact, like swearing in stand-up comedy, there is a skill and an art to making the reader uncomfortable without showing them the pus and the bile upfront. Equally though, there is a skill in being able to show it all, and not come off reading like a hack.
Some of the worst self-published books out there are a product of No Editor, No Regulation, and, as well as the awful prose, their biggest flaws often involve an inability to tone down the unpalatable. In Girl Afraid, I toned down pretty much everything, but the horror still exists in the reader's mind. That alone might make them not want to carry on reading. I get that, but it's a chance I have to take.
In this book, Welsh gives a unique viewpoint and narrative, the like of which I hadn't seen before, or haven't seen since. The story is told backwards, and there is a creeping sensation that the narrator's recollection of events might be opinion-based rather than fact. It's gripping, all the way through; and, like any of his books, the lack of a sympathetic protagonist stops being an issue once you are ensconced in the tale. You find yourself identifying with people regardless. It's a skill Welsh has, and I envy it.
Will you like this book? It depends. Did you like any of his others? Do you have a strong stomach? Do you like to be put through an emotional wringer? Yes, yes, and yes? Then you'll love it. And you'll probably love my books too. Go read the sample of them on here, because Irvine Welsh already has enough money, and I need new Hush Puppies.
The people have a point, of course. Not everyone can read an Irvine Welsh book. But there is a sense of smug satisfaction if you can, and happen to Not Be Scottish into the bargain.
This book is in Scottish. And it's fucking horrific. I was taken to school by this novel, in terms of how depraved and vomit-inducing a book can be in its descriptions, and in the general thoughts and behaviour of its characters. And I liked it. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with an author like Alice Sebold, who can tell you a horrific tale, without giving you the gory details. In fact, like swearing in stand-up comedy, there is a skill and an art to making the reader uncomfortable without showing them the pus and the bile upfront. Equally though, there is a skill in being able to show it all, and not come off reading like a hack.
Some of the worst self-published books out there are a product of No Editor, No Regulation, and, as well as the awful prose, their biggest flaws often involve an inability to tone down the unpalatable. In Girl Afraid, I toned down pretty much everything, but the horror still exists in the reader's mind. That alone might make them not want to carry on reading. I get that, but it's a chance I have to take.
In this book, Welsh gives a unique viewpoint and narrative, the like of which I hadn't seen before, or haven't seen since. The story is told backwards, and there is a creeping sensation that the narrator's recollection of events might be opinion-based rather than fact. It's gripping, all the way through; and, like any of his books, the lack of a sympathetic protagonist stops being an issue once you are ensconced in the tale. You find yourself identifying with people regardless. It's a skill Welsh has, and I envy it.
Will you like this book? It depends. Did you like any of his others? Do you have a strong stomach? Do you like to be put through an emotional wringer? Yes, yes, and yes? Then you'll love it. And you'll probably love my books too. Go read the sample of them on here, because Irvine Welsh already has enough money, and I need new Hush Puppies.
October 29, 2012
Il cielo sopra Edinburgo
Nella lettura di (quasi) tutte le opere di Welsh mi era rimasto indietro, non so perchè (forse inconsciamente respinto dall'immagine poco accattivante del marabù in copertina) questo Tolleranza Zero. Grave lacuna! mi hanno ammonito gli amici anobiiani welshiani. E avevano ragione...
Si tratta infatti di uno dei migliori esempi di quell'inimitabile stile, cinico, crudele e violento, che negli anni 90 l'autore sapeva utilizzare con maestria direi molto superiore a quanto ci sta offrendo nelle sue ultime prove un po' asfittiche. In Tolleranza zero i personaggi, le situazioni, i dialoghi, l'ambientazione edinburghese sono quelli suoi tipici, ma qui il racconto è ben strutturato ed ancorato in modo solido a un soggetto forte, dove Welsh si permette addirittura geniali virtuosismi di scrittura, come il periodico affollarsi dei diversi livelli di coscienza del protagonista, espressi tramite variazioni (direi quasi fibrillazioni) dei caratteri di stampa.
Spicca come sempre la profonda amoralità dei personaggi, senza alcuna eccezione, siano essi bulletti da pub o da curva Nord oppure i componenti di una delle famiglie più distoniche della narrativa contemporanea, amoralità che Welsh condivide con altri scrittori altrettanto "cattivi" sebbene profondamente diversi (Ellis? Houellebecq?).
Essa si estrinseca qui in comportamenti di crescente brutalità, verbale e materiale, verso i deboli (donne, bambini, animali) fino a ritorcersi contro gli autori stessi della violenza, con l'entrata in gioco di un elemento ancor più crudele e sarcastico di loro: il destino...
Ed è nella fantasia che i meno bestiali di questi scoppiati edinburghesi, come il protagonista di Tolleranza Zero, cercano di fuggire dalla realtà immergendosi negli strati più profondi della propria coscienza ma imbattendosi in sogni che presto diventano incubi, concretizzati dalla demoniaca figura del marabù vera rappresentazione dell'ineluttabilità del male.
Nella lettura di (quasi) tutte le opere di Welsh mi era rimasto indietro, non so perchè (forse inconsciamente respinto dall'immagine poco accattivante del marabù in copertina) questo Tolleranza Zero. Grave lacuna! mi hanno ammonito gli amici anobiiani welshiani. E avevano ragione...
Si tratta infatti di uno dei migliori esempi di quell'inimitabile stile, cinico, crudele e violento, che negli anni 90 l'autore sapeva utilizzare con maestria direi molto superiore a quanto ci sta offrendo nelle sue ultime prove un po' asfittiche. In Tolleranza zero i personaggi, le situazioni, i dialoghi, l'ambientazione edinburghese sono quelli suoi tipici, ma qui il racconto è ben strutturato ed ancorato in modo solido a un soggetto forte, dove Welsh si permette addirittura geniali virtuosismi di scrittura, come il periodico affollarsi dei diversi livelli di coscienza del protagonista, espressi tramite variazioni (direi quasi fibrillazioni) dei caratteri di stampa.
Spicca come sempre la profonda amoralità dei personaggi, senza alcuna eccezione, siano essi bulletti da pub o da curva Nord oppure i componenti di una delle famiglie più distoniche della narrativa contemporanea, amoralità che Welsh condivide con altri scrittori altrettanto "cattivi" sebbene profondamente diversi (Ellis? Houellebecq?).
Essa si estrinseca qui in comportamenti di crescente brutalità, verbale e materiale, verso i deboli (donne, bambini, animali) fino a ritorcersi contro gli autori stessi della violenza, con l'entrata in gioco di un elemento ancor più crudele e sarcastico di loro: il destino...
Ed è nella fantasia che i meno bestiali di questi scoppiati edinburghesi, come il protagonista di Tolleranza Zero, cercano di fuggire dalla realtà immergendosi negli strati più profondi della propria coscienza ma imbattendosi in sogni che presto diventano incubi, concretizzati dalla demoniaca figura del marabù vera rappresentazione dell'ineluttabilità del male.
June 29, 2021
I used to smoke Marlboro Black 100s. They're really rough on your throat and they smell awful. I havent craved one for over a year, but finishing this book made me want to buy a carton. Jesus. I felt violated reading this. Experimental writing aside, the actual story hit harder and harder until the last page where you feel as though you're waking from a coma just like the MC.
This was my first Welsh novel and I'm definitely going to take a while to read a second. The author butters you up with charming and funny dialogue and then shoots you down with some of the most cruel passages I've read.
The dream state and real world interruptions were incredibly well executed, especially once the Zero Tolerance campaign starts to erupt into his Africa fantasy.
5/5 will recommend to everyone I know.
This was my first Welsh novel and I'm definitely going to take a while to read a second. The author butters you up with charming and funny dialogue and then shoots you down with some of the most cruel passages I've read.
The dream state and real world interruptions were incredibly well executed, especially once the Zero Tolerance campaign starts to erupt into his Africa fantasy.
5/5 will recommend to everyone I know.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 19, 2007
This book left me freaked out for weeks. It's told from the perspective of someone in a coma, drifting in and out of three levels of awareness: nearly aware of his real surroundings; remembering the events of his life that led him to be in this coma; and in a surreal fantasy African safari. Very well written, easy to follow despite the narrative tricks, and with a narrator that will draw you in somewhat against your will.
June 17, 2023
thank fuck for that ending
January 22, 2024
Հակամշակույթի լավագույն դրսևորումներից մեկը
Գիրքն իսկապես զարմացրեց: Հակամշակույթի մեծ սիրահար չեմ, բայց այս մեկը բավական խորն էր ու հետաքրքիր:
Պատմությունը շոտլանդացու մասին է, ով հայտնվել է կոմայում, իսկ մենք հետևում ենք նրա... Չէ, մի րոպե, այսքան պարզ հնարավոր չէ ներկայացնել:
Բանն այն է, որ պատմությունը բաժանված է երեք հիմնական մասի, որոնք սյուժեն առաջ են տանում՝ պարբերաբար միմյանց հերթափոխելով: Անվանենք դրանք շերտեր: Առաջին շերտում տղան կոմայի մեջ է: Նրան այցելում են տարբեր մարդիկ՝ ծնողները, քույր եղբայրները, ընկերները, բուժքույրը և այլն: Նա լսում է բոլորի խոսակցությունը, բայց չի կարող արձագանքել: Երկրորդ շերտն իրենց ներկայացնում է ֆլեշբեքեր, որոնց միջոցով մենք ծանոթանում ենք հերոսի անցյալին: Երրորդ շերտն արդեն երևակայական է: Սա խորը կոման է, որտեղ հերոսը, իր երևակայական ընկերոջ հետ, փորձում է որսալ Մարաբու արագիլին: Եվ այս երեք շերտերը շատ կապված են միմյանց հետ: Հերոսը անընդհատ մի շերտից մյուսն է անցնում, երբեմն սեփական կամքով, երբեմն՝ ոչ:
Գիրքն, ինչպես արդեն ասացի, հակամշակութային է, այսինքն զերծ է մշակույթի համար բնորոշ տարրերից: Այն գրված է մաքսիմալ ազատ ոճով, ինչպես հեղինակի բոլոր գրքերը, փողոցային բառապաշարով և հայհոյանքների մաքսիմալ քանակության: Այնպես որ եթե Ձեր ականջները շատ նուրբ են, մի կարդացեք այս գիրքը:
Քանի հիշել եմ չկարդալու մասին: Մի կարդացեք այս գիրքը, եթե գրականությունը Ձեզ համար ինչ-որ սուրբ ու մաքուր երևույթ է, մի կարդացեք, եթե կարծում եք, որ հայհոյանքները գրականության մեջ տեղ չունեն, մի կարդացեք, եթե շատ կենդանասեր եք, մի կարդացեք նաև, եթե շատ մարդասեր եք ու դեմ եք բռնությանը... Ընդհանուր առմամբ երևի պատկերացրեցիք՝ ոլր դեպքերում չի կարելի կարդալ այս գիրքը:
Մի փոքր էլ սոցիալական բաղադրիչի մասին: Գիրքը շատ սոցիալական է: Խոսքը հիմնականում միջին խավի մարդկանց մասին է, բայց տողատակերում կարդում ենք երեխաների դաստիարակության, ընտանինքերի կազմավորման, շրջապատի ազդեցության, ցածր խավերի կենցաղի, մարդկային փոխհարաբերությունների, ինքնակայացման մասին: Մեծ ուշադրություն է դարձված հատկապես բռնության թեմային:
Շատ բան կարող էի գրքի մասին գրել, բայց կսահմանափակվեմ: Կարծում եմ՝ շատ շատերին գիրքը դուր չի գա: Ես, համենայն դեպս, սիրեցի: Ուելշի առաջին գիրքն էր, որ բավական բարձր գնահատական եմ ն��անակում: Ու խորհուրդ կտամ անպայման ծանոթանալ:
Գիրքն իսկապես զարմացրեց: Հակամշակույթի մեծ սիրահար չեմ, բայց այս մեկը բավական խորն էր ու հետաքրքիր:
Պատմությունը շոտլանդացու մասին է, ով հայտնվել է կոմայում, իսկ մենք հետևում ենք նրա... Չէ, մի րոպե, այսքան պարզ հնարավոր չէ ներկայացնել:
Բանն այն է, որ պատմությունը բաժանված է երեք հիմնական մասի, որոնք սյուժեն առաջ են տանում՝ պարբերաբար միմյանց հերթափոխելով: Անվանենք դրանք շերտեր: Առաջին շերտում տղան կոմայի մեջ է: Նրան այցելում են տարբեր մարդիկ՝ ծնողները, քույր եղբայրները, ընկերները, բուժքույրը և այլն: Նա լսում է բոլորի խոսակցությունը, բայց չի կարող արձագանքել: Երկրորդ շերտն իրենց ներկայացնում է ֆլեշբեքեր, որոնց միջոցով մենք ծանոթանում ենք հերոսի անցյալին: Երրորդ շերտն արդեն երևակայական է: Սա խորը կոման է, որտեղ հերոսը, իր երևակայական ընկերոջ հետ, փորձում է որսալ Մարաբու արագիլին: Եվ այս երեք շերտերը շատ կապված են միմյանց հետ: Հերոսը անընդհատ մի շերտից մյուսն է անցնում, երբեմն սեփական կամքով, երբեմն՝ ոչ:
Գիրքն, ինչպես արդեն ասացի, հակամշակութային է, այսինքն զերծ է մշակույթի համար բնորոշ տարրերից: Այն գրված է մաքսիմալ ազատ ոճով, ինչպես հեղինակի բոլոր գրքերը, փողոցային բառապաշարով և հայհոյանքների մաքսիմալ քանակության: Այնպես որ եթե Ձեր ականջները շատ նուրբ են, մի կարդացեք այս գիրքը:
Քանի հիշել եմ չկարդալու մասին: Մի կարդացեք այս գիրքը, եթե գրականությունը Ձեզ համար ինչ-որ սուրբ ու մաքուր երևույթ է, մի կարդացեք, եթե կարծում եք, որ հայհոյանքները գրականության մեջ տեղ չունեն, մի կարդացեք, եթե շատ կենդանասեր եք, մի կարդացեք նաև, եթե շատ մարդասեր եք ու դեմ եք բռնությանը... Ընդհանուր առմամբ երևի պատկերացրեցիք՝ ոլր դեպքերում չի կարելի կարդալ այս գիրքը:
Մի փոքր էլ սոցիալական բաղադրիչի մասին: Գիրքը շատ սոցիալական է: Խոսքը հիմնականում միջին խավի մարդկանց մասին է, բայց տողատակերում կարդում ենք երեխաների դաստիարակության, ընտանինքերի կազմավորման, շրջապատի ազդեցության, ցածր խավերի կենցաղի, մարդկային փոխհարաբերությունների, ինքնակայացման մասին: Մեծ ուշադրություն է դարձված հատկապես բռնության թեմային:
Շատ բան կարող էի գրքի մասին գրել, բայց կսահմանափակվեմ: Կարծում եմ՝ շատ շատերին գիրքը դուր չի գա: Ես, համենայն դեպս, սիրեցի: Ուելշի առաջին գիրքն էր, որ բավական բարձր գնահատական եմ ն��անակում: Ու խորհուրդ կտամ անպայման ծանոթանալ:
July 7, 2019
Summer Reading Challenge 4/27
Continental Drift [1/7: Europe] - “Read a book set on every continent”
This might be the toughest book I’ve had to write a review for. How do you rate a book that had a compelling story, from a culture and writer you have a connection to, but with a writing style that made it very difficult for me to read?
I first picked up Marabou Stork Nightmares (MSN) back in December. I immediately missed the main concept of the book, which is that the main character is in a coma - so I wasn’t off to a great start. After realizing that I would have to read carefully and interpret around a lack of clear timeline shifts and basic grammar, I started the book over again. Three times.
I have never been great at following surreal, stream-of-conscious type stories. This one really tested my reading comprehension, but in the end it was so worth it.
The aggressive and diverse language, which was originally very off putting to me, was actually key to creating an uncomfortable atmosphere. Nothing about this novel was feel-good or cheerful, but it was an effective gut punch that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.
I am reluctant to give away much of the story, as to talk too much about the main character Roy Strang would risk mitigating the impact going on his journey may have on you.
Reading Irvine Welsh was not easy for me, even though I absolutely adore Scotland and was looking forward to enjoying this celebrated Scottish author. He has definitely depicted a brutal and hopeless world, and my understanding is his other novels are no different. I am determined to pick up another, and now that I am more familiar with Welsh, the dialect (Scottish slang) he uses, and the brutal worlds he creates, I am hoping I will get pulled in quicker with the next one.
If you like experimental (“different”) writing styles, I would ignore how much trouble I had getting drawn into the story, and I encourage you to pick up MSN. The hunt for the Marabou Stork will leave you guessing who is predator and who is prey?
Continental Drift [1/7: Europe] - “Read a book set on every continent”
This might be the toughest book I’ve had to write a review for. How do you rate a book that had a compelling story, from a culture and writer you have a connection to, but with a writing style that made it very difficult for me to read?
I first picked up Marabou Stork Nightmares (MSN) back in December. I immediately missed the main concept of the book, which is that the main character is in a coma - so I wasn’t off to a great start. After realizing that I would have to read carefully and interpret around a lack of clear timeline shifts and basic grammar, I started the book over again. Three times.
I have never been great at following surreal, stream-of-conscious type stories. This one really tested my reading comprehension, but in the end it was so worth it.
The aggressive and diverse language, which was originally very off putting to me, was actually key to creating an uncomfortable atmosphere. Nothing about this novel was feel-good or cheerful, but it was an effective gut punch that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.
I am reluctant to give away much of the story, as to talk too much about the main character Roy Strang would risk mitigating the impact going on his journey may have on you.
Reading Irvine Welsh was not easy for me, even though I absolutely adore Scotland and was looking forward to enjoying this celebrated Scottish author. He has definitely depicted a brutal and hopeless world, and my understanding is his other novels are no different. I am determined to pick up another, and now that I am more familiar with Welsh, the dialect (Scottish slang) he uses, and the brutal worlds he creates, I am hoping I will get pulled in quicker with the next one.
If you like experimental (“different”) writing styles, I would ignore how much trouble I had getting drawn into the story, and I encourage you to pick up MSN. The hunt for the Marabou Stork will leave you guessing who is predator and who is prey?
July 8, 2022
A tense fever dream drenched in madness and the harsh reality of lower class Scottish housing projects. Really dark, really bleak, and actually quite funny.
Irvine Welsh takes you right to the edge of your comfort zone and holds you there, threatening to push you over. His ability to retain so much control over the prose while the chaos is brewing is unprecedented, I really loved his writing style, including the playful use of ergodic literature (thats fancy pants for text that's unconventionally placed on the page), and after a while I even got used to the Scottish dialect, though I admit that at first it was a head scratcher and put me off.
I heard the whole book in a young Ewan McGregor's voice - how he sounded in Trainspotting. It probably took me twice as long to finish as it should because I wanted to savour that Scottish flavour instead of speeding through in my normal internal reading voice.
The premise is really weird, our "protagonist" is a bastard in a coma: Roy Strang; a real scum bag kind of character. The book follows three plots, we fluctuate between memories of childhood trauma followed by his chaotic behaviour; visitors talking to him at the hospital, and a comatose dream about hunting Marabou Storks. The latter is the one he's trying desperately to live in, to avoid all the brutality of reality and the consequences of his actions. I loved this idea, and couldn't help but draw similarities with the reason books are so great, they take us away from our own lives for a brief moment, and just like Roy we are escaping.
Fantastic book. I'm an instant Welsh fan.
10/10
Irvine Welsh takes you right to the edge of your comfort zone and holds you there, threatening to push you over. His ability to retain so much control over the prose while the chaos is brewing is unprecedented, I really loved his writing style, including the playful use of ergodic literature (thats fancy pants for text that's unconventionally placed on the page), and after a while I even got used to the Scottish dialect, though I admit that at first it was a head scratcher and put me off.
I heard the whole book in a young Ewan McGregor's voice - how he sounded in Trainspotting. It probably took me twice as long to finish as it should because I wanted to savour that Scottish flavour instead of speeding through in my normal internal reading voice.
The premise is really weird, our "protagonist" is a bastard in a coma: Roy Strang; a real scum bag kind of character. The book follows three plots, we fluctuate between memories of childhood trauma followed by his chaotic behaviour; visitors talking to him at the hospital, and a comatose dream about hunting Marabou Storks. The latter is the one he's trying desperately to live in, to avoid all the brutality of reality and the consequences of his actions. I loved this idea, and couldn't help but draw similarities with the reason books are so great, they take us away from our own lives for a brief moment, and just like Roy we are escaping.
Fantastic book. I'm an instant Welsh fan.
10/10
June 3, 2022
What was that?
June 9, 2022
"Кошмарът Марабу" (1995г.) е ретроспективната история на Рой Странг, която се разгръща, докато той е в кома. Неговите "спускания" към спомените и съзнанието и "издигания" към това, което долавя от реалния свят - посещения на роднини, музика, медицински сестри и т.н., са експериментално, но умело представени посредством заигравки с формата и позицията на текста по страниците.
Уелш е написал роман, засягащ тежки теми като изнасилване, педофилия и хулиганство. Всеобщият начин на живот в предградията на Единбург е представен майсторски и уникално, а образът на Странг-баща е олицетворението на съвременния шотландски дух и бит.
Цялостното изграждане на персонажите е изключително реалистично, в типичните за Уелш окраски на мрак, разврат, отчаяние, наркотици и гняв.
Уелш е написал роман, засягащ тежки теми като изнасилване, педофилия и хулиганство. Всеобщият начин на живот в предградията на Единбург е представен майсторски и уникално, а образът на Странг-баща е олицетворението на съвременния шотландски дух и бит.
Цялостното изграждане на персонажите е изключително реалистично, в типичните за Уелш окраски на мрак, разврат, отчаяние, наркотици и гняв.
July 26, 2025
what?? This is the most disturbing book I’ve ever read. It was so hard to follow but that only made me try harder to stick with it. I loved how the author transitions between stages of consciousness using even the formatting of the text to signal when the comatose narrator sinks deeper and floats up the surface. I deducted one star because although I thought it was interesting, I found the phonetic spelling very difficult to understand. I would be careful recommending it, it’s not for everyone.
May 24, 2021
This craziness blew my 21 year old MIND back in the day....!!
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