Sort of like if Conrad had set Heart of Darkness in a Yorkshire mining town. The horror!
I've heard people talk about the pride that British miners used to take in their work before, but Weekend in Dinlock conveys this idea with so much more depth: those working at the coal face, in particular, emerge here as a provincial-proletarian elite, forged in the squalid darkness of the pit. Sigal is also sensitive to how this highly developed, almost anarchistic workerism and disdain for non-miners can slide into small-minded xenophobia. The ambiguity of the character Bolton, a local trade union leader characterised at one point as a Stalinist monarchist, crystallises this point, as does the struggle of Davie, a version of the real life miner-cum-novelist Len Doherty, to reconcile his ties to the village with his artistic vocation.
Lighter and less substantial than some of the other working-class writing that was around at the time, Nell Dunn's Up the Junction is perhaps the best comparator. Also features thinly disguised fictionalisations of Edward Thompson and Doris Lessing.