Jelly Roll

by Luke Sutherland

When psycho saxophonist Malc walks out on The Sunny Sunday Sextet, the five remaining friends decide that for too long they've looked like "a bunch ay farmers at the Christmas dinner dance." Slicked up, they embark on a tour of the Highlands, acquiring a brilliant new sax player, Liam--only he's black. Tensions rise as the tour progresses, particularly for narrator Roddy, who idolises Liam while ignoring his own descent into druggy hell.

Luke Sutherland, shortlisted for the Whitbread's best First Novel Award, begins this novel bravely--perhaps recklessly--with a lengthy, expletive-filled conversation between the five surviving band members. At first, the dialect is hard to grasp, the characters apparently indistinguishable in the often ridiculous banter of five men together. And then, gradually, patterns start to emerge in the improvisation, and individual, idiosyncratic voices come through the melée, voices that become stronger as the novel progresses. The milieu--Scotland, drugs, music--has become overly familiar in the last few years, but Sutherland is his own man: a writer with a brilliant ear for the rhythms of speech, an eye for the tragicomic, and a fine sense of pace--which together draw you in mercilessly. --Alan Stewart

Genres: Fiction

414 pages, Paperback

First published June 30, 1998

About the author

Luke Sutherland was born in London and was brought up in Orkney by his adopted parents. He was educated at Glasgow University, where he read English and philosophy. He is a musician and songwriter and was a founder member of the band Long Fin Killie, with whom he released three albums. He has played violin with Mogwai and his most recent music project is Music A.M. His first novel, Jelly Roll (1998), the story of a struggling Glaswegian jazz band, was shortlisted for the 1998 Whitbread First Novel Award. His second novel, Sweetmeat (2002), set in a London restaurant, narrates the adventures of head chef Bohemond.

Luke Sutherland's latest novel is Venus as a Boy (2004), an exploration of a modern-day myth about the power of love. It is being adapted for the screen by Film Four, in conjunction with Picture Palace North.

He lives in London.

Reviews

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reminiscent of Trainspotting (sorry). Reading the first few chapters, I felt the book was robbed from people who may not preserve beyond the difficulties of reading Scots. After finishing I felt it was written for Scots. Growing up in a Scottish town in the 90s with an English accent, I only ever caught a fraction of the bigotry this novel lays bare. "Don't rise to it". Aye, right. That said, the Scots dialogue is well executed and deeply emotive, adding real weight to the story.

The prose is beautifully horrific, perfectly mirroring the brutality of the narrative. The pacing is effective, particularly in the way Sutherland employs shifts in the timeline to draw the reader deeper into the story. I look forward to reading Sutherland's other works.

[Jack Deighton · Rating 4 out of 5]

(One of the 100 best Scottish Books.)


When a book’s epigraph is the passage from Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus which ends in, “Why this is hell, nor am I out of it,” as uttered by Mephistopheles, you know its contents will not be an unalloyed bundle of laughs. Jelly Roll has its lighter moments but the subject matter is indeed serious.

The novel starts when Glasgow jazz band The Sunny Sunday Sextet’s saxophonist, Malc, who is a bit of a psychopath, decides, for domestic reasons, to stop playing with them. The ensuing discussions among the band’s members - in uncompromising Glasgow dialect - relate to whether to give up altogether or find a replacement, and even if doing the latter would be a wise move given Malc’s likely reaction. The prospect of a tour of the Highlands and Islands has the potential to sway things. The group’s drummer Paddy introduces narrator Roddy Burns (whose tipple is the unlikely Bailey’s) to his sister’s boyfriend Liam; who plays like a dream. He seems the perfect answer, young, gifted and ....... black. Embarrassments ensue when he comes along to the next band practice as Roddy has somehow neglected to mention that last fact to the other members. He thinks they are being racist and they think he is, precisely because he didn’t mention it. Liam’s response is to ignore any tension. It turns out this is his strategy to cope with the harassments he habitually has to endure because of his skin colour.

The novel then jumps forward in time to describe incidents occurring during the tour, taking in a roll-call of Scottish towns - Blairgowrie, Dunkeld, Crieff, Fort William, Inverness, Portree, Ullapool - which are usually described by an italicised gazetteer entry. (Ullapool’s is a touch harsh. It merely says herring 1788.) It is obvious we have missed something in the interim. A later return to events which occurred after Malc rejoined the band, with Liam as a supposed backing saxophonist, fills in the gaps. Malc is an unreconstructed racist, as his dubbing of Liam as ‘Banana’ emphasises. His tendency to violence and to pick fights is displayed in several scenes, including the plot’s fulcrum. Not that Malc is alone in his racism or indeed his violence. The band’s reception at one of the venues develops into a rammy due to elements of the audience taking exception to Liam’s appearance.

I assume the book gains its title from Roddy’s penchant for “jellies” (diazepam.) When I first read the blurb on the back I declined to buy it thinking it would not be for me but given my wish to complete that “100 Best Scottish Books” list (at least all the fiction on it) I subsequently could not ignore a charity shop copy at a very reasonable price. I was pleasantly surprised - depictions of violence notwithstanding: there is a lot more going on in Jelly Roll than I have commented on. Its appearance on the list may be due to its highlighting of racism (in his youth Sutherland was the only Scots-African in Orkney) but it is certainly better written than some others which are on it.

[J.J. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Liam is Irish and a talented saxophonist. He is also black. Invited to audition by the members of a Glasgow based jazz band, the prejudices start the moment he steps into the room.
Liam’s playing blows the band away, but racial tensions are always just below the surface.
The band members, a junkie, a dealer, a self-proclaimed love (who suffers from erectile dysfunction), psychopath, neurotic cannot understand why Liam does not retaliate when is openly abused. Liam patiently explains that to fight back would merely confirm the stereotype that the abusers have of blacks – “from the jungle”, “savages”, "uncivilised”, etc.
The band members continue to abuse him, but they see this as joking, “no harm meant”.
However, they have no compunction in retaliating on Liam’s behalf and against Liam’s wishes. Their violence is immediate and extreme. The description of the attacks would not be out of place on the pages of H Kingsley Long’s “No Mean City”.
The story of the band’s tour of the Scottish Highland’s and their excesses unfolds but from a “white man’s privilege” perspective, unaware of how savage and uncivilised they are.
Liam is the antithesis of his white cohorts. And yet all he wants is a “normal” life.
Great book and intelligent use of music as a vehicle to illustrate prejudices.