Absolutely superb!
‘A Working Class State of Mind’ was another purchase based on positive comments on a Twitter thread. I’d never have envisaged it, but ‘books written by decent people on Twitter’ is providing me with some quality reading material at the moment. I also love reading books written by working-class authors about lived working-class experiences. I know I have said a lot in reviews before but it is so important for me to read working-class perspectives in literature and I wish I was exposed to it more when I was younger. I am sure it would have led to me pursuing my own interest in writing more. For many working-class people, expressing their selves through literature has been seen as something that other people do, and books are written for other people about people not from our class. I write this from a position of relative security, but reading works by authors like Burnett reminds me not only of my roots, but also the joy, hardships, character and voices of working-class people.
‘A Working Class State of Mind’ is a selection of broadly connected stories mostly centred around the lives of three men living in Edinburgh. Their lives are connected through schoolboy friendships which grow into adulthood. Each story has an overarching theme but each story is infused with character. One cannot read the book without laughing on almost every page. It’s funny, even though the subject matter hardly is. The humour is sardonic, even cynical at times but always witty. Burnett perfectly catches the right turn of phrase or the cutting remark or scathingly accurate analogy. I think this comes from an authenticity that can’t be faked. Now it’s true that visiting Edinburgh once doesn’t qualify me as an expert in the working-class life of the city, but his characters whilst definitely rooted in a sense of place nevertheless are familiar to anyone with a poor and working-class background. Sure, the language is coarse (I think I read a comment that the ‘c’ word is used over a hundred times in the book) and at times the characters use language which has no notion of being politically correct, but it is authentic, it’s honest. (As an aside, it’s an interesting exploration of language – the ‘c’ word is considered exceptionally insulting in some parts of the world and I know many people object to gendered slurs with good reason due to the misogyny in the word, and yet in many working-class communities, especially in Scotland and the North of England you will hear the word liberally spread in sentences without the bat of an eyelid.)
I think the ways the characters speak is so familiar to anyone who spends time in working-class male spaces. When one has fuck all, all one has is a sense of humour, because if you don’t laugh then you are going to cry. So many of the quotable lines in the book will make you cringe, but remind you of ‘that guy’ in the pub who just said what he said, and you want to hang your head thinking, ‘for fuck’s sake’, but you laugh about it later. It works because for every spoken line I could find a touchpoint to somewhere or someone in my life.
Staying with the theme of language, the book is written in East Scots. This doesn’t make it challenging to read (especially if you know any Scottish people, or at least can ‘hear’ a Scottish accent). I think though it is quite liberating for authors to reclaim their language and to write in it, whether that’s East Scots, Jamaican patois or even books written in Lancashire or Yorkshire dialects. As people become more and more geographically mobile and media ever more homogenised it’s more important than ever to retain and reclaim our language as legitimate expression. It horrifies me somewhat that I can read ‘Lancashire dialect’ but my children would probably struggle. In the UK there are languages such as Welsh, Cornish, Manx, Scots, Gaelic, Irish and lots of regional dialects. There are Indian English and Patois speakers too, and probably more – all are at risk if all our media is produced in an acceptable form of English. Language helps us express ourselves and our culture so I am so pleased to read books like this. I imagine Scots readers value it more.
As identified, I think the book has an inherently male perspective too. I don’t think it means that people who are not male won’t enjoy it, but it is definitely a book about men. The stories focus around predominantly male spaces – the football, the bookies, the pub. Male views are brought to the front – the relationship to work and unemployment and the need to provide, violence, navigating being true to one’s roots and class (and being ‘one of the lads’) whilst maintaining relationships. I don’t think this book celebrates masculinity though – I think it reflects a kind of masculinity back on one’s self. There is a real sense of men having their ‘balls cut off’, that emasculation that comes from being downtrodden and beaten up by a system. It’s a book about finding hope and pride when sometimes you don’t have any.
Most of the reviews in the book mention Aldo, who I think is often referred to as a modern-day Begbie (the psycho from ‘Trainspotting’). If I am being honest, I don’t think I am as enamoured with Aldo as other reviewers and I think it is his long-suffering mate Dougie who is the heart of the book. Maybe Dougie reminds me of myself. I had enough of my youth scratching around on the dole, and to an extent, because I no longer worry (too much anyway) about feeding my family I have that sense of being a ‘class traitor’ and like Dougie have had in the past had to navigate the challenge of ‘old mates’ and ‘the person I want to spend my life with’. (As an aside I loved Justine, his partner and felt sorry for her and all the crap she put up with. You don’t really see it from the perspective of the men but I think she’s a good ‘un). Dougie has his mates rocking up and skinning up in his house, having his mates fiddle credit using his address, he puts up with his mates getting him into shit down the pub, even getting sparked out due to the actions of others. Yeah, he’s long suffering, but I think he'll never let go, because friends are like that.
Aldo is a South Asian drug dealer and an absolute psychopath. He’s a loose cannon – the kind of bloke who there is always a sense of danger with. The kind of person who you are always watching your step with in case you get a kicking. I think my aversion to him was because I grew up with people like him (fuck, I’m related to people like him) and it is fucking EXHAUSTING going for a pint with someone who could just go off at the drop of a hat either on you or someone else. So, Aldo’s dealing, fighting, piss-taking wisecracks feel a bit to familiar for me. I think people who like him, perhaps haven’t had to live with folk like that. (I used to have a mate, through mutual political activity was an absolute FUCKING LIABILITY, and it took ages to ditch them ha ha – honestly Aldo is a bit raw for me). I also think people may see him as a caricature and to an extent I get that, but honestly there are people not to dissimilar to him about.
And whilst I can sound quite critical of Aldo (I mean, I’m going to stay spoiler free but some of the shit he pulls ranges from cheeky to exploitative to psychopathic), he is still a character who backs up his mates, tries to sort things out for what people care about and in the most tender story in the book capable of the deepest love.
I don’t think I have a favourite story but the highlights for me are;
The story about Aldo taking a dog in (oh my, one would need a heart of stone not to be moved by this)
The story about the football – my gosh anyone who has ever supported shite will be able to identify with it and the notion of the glory hunter bedecked in the club’s colours.
Two stories about imposter syndrome in middle class spaces and also about being a traitor to one’s class. This hits me hard, because in my heart and soul I am working-class but economically I am no longer. I know a redundancy puts me back on my arse but I also know my kids upbringing isn’t the same as mine.
The story about signing on – it’s been a fair while since I’ve been in that position but that feeling of helplessness as you are treated like shit because you aren’t in work. Claimants are treated with disdain and as if they are an inconvenience and that nod, that if only you just pulled your finger out you’d be right. It’s dehumanising….
The author is working on his second book and I am pretty certain I’ll be picking it up as soon as it comes out. It isn’t glamourous and it isn’t pretty but Colin Burnett is a brilliant voice and it’s a testament to himself that he captures so perfectly the way people live, speak and experience the world around them. I feel quite lucky to have picked this up by chance and I strongly recommend this work.