“Trainspotting” (1996) by Irvine Welsh
A Review by Cándido Pintos Andrés
Almost as ever, I walked the way back...from the film to the book. I remember vividly the first time I watched “Trainspotting,” because two scenes were imprinted in my memory (no spoilers: the public toilet and the baby in the cradle) and, I felt that, before me, there was not just another film of junkies but a powerful depiction of a lost generation, quite similar, in spite of the apparent differences between Edinburgh and our city, to those youngsters of the 80s in Vigo dealing with the aftermath of Industrial restructuring.
It is neither a plea against drugs nor a story that pretends to convince us of the evils of this underworld. In fact, its protagonists are aware of what they are living and, although, it may seem impossible, their addiction is not the cause of all their problems and misfortunes. Drugs are just another companion in their journey through loneliness and indifference, just like drinking, fighting or sex.
“Trainspotting” is four people together but alone. Four charismatic and auto-destructive troublemakers, socially rootless, but extremely connected to the darkest Edinburgh and the borough of Leith, in fact another character itself. All the stories are told in first person by its four protagonists, habitual offenders, addicted, abandoned, loved, hated but mostly ignored: after all, they don’t live in the same world as us, because we are on the trains leaving Waverley Station while they are there... “trainspotting.”
“Trainspotting” by Scottish author Irvine Welsh, gives voice to an entire and disappointed generation with irony and bitterness but above all with realism and lucidity. I do not dare to say (as Rebel.Inc magazine) “The best book ever written by man or woman… Deserves to sell more copies than The Bible” although the fact that it is worthwhile is undeniable.
And last but not least.
Even though it requires a slower reading path, the fact that it is written in Scots should be more of an incentive to follow the story and feel it, rather than an intimidating challenge.
By way of example one of the most well-known speeches:
“Ah don’t really know, Tam, ah jist dinnae. It kinday makes things seem mair real tae us. Life’s boring and futile. We start oaf wi high hopes, then we bottle it. We realise that we’re aw gaunnae die,withoot really findin oot the big answers. We develop aw they longwinded ideas which jist interpret the reality ay oor lives in different weys, withoot really extending oor body ay worthwhile knowledge, about the big things, the real things.
Basically, we live a short, disappointing life; and then we die. We fill up oor lives wi shite,things like careers and relationships tae delude oorsels that it isnae aw totally pointless. Smack’s an honest drug, because it strips away these delusions. Wi smack, whin ye feel good, ye feel immortal. Whin ye feel bad, it intensifies the shite that’s already thair. It’s the only really honest drug. It doesnae alter yir consciousness. It just gies ye a hit and a sense ay well-being. Eftir that, ye see the misery ay the world as it is, and ye cannae anaesthetise yirsel against it.”
