A common criticism of 19th- and early 20th-century Scottish literature was the relative absence of novels dealing with the whole issue of industrialization, growing social division and immigration. Rather than explore the vexed issues of poverty, class division and the growing Celtic influence, most writers belonged to the ‘Kailyard School’, which presented a romantic, sentimental and completely unrealistic image of Scotland, perhaps reflecting the overwhelmingly middle-class background of novelists at that time.
The Kailyard came to be detested by a growing band of writers in the 20th century, and a new phase of realistic literature – known as the Scottish Renaissance – began in the 1920s, inspired by one of the greatest novels to emerge from Scotland, George Douglas Brown’s ground-breaking House of the Green Shutters. Published in 1901, the novel brings Greek tragedy to 19th-century rural Ayrshire and, more than any other, destroyed the bucolic escapism of the Kailyard School.
In the same year James Leslie Mitchell was born in rural Aberdeenshire. Better known by his pseudonym Lewis Grassic Gibbon, his novel, Sunset song, published in 1932 (only three years before his untimely death), has become one of the mainstays of modern Scottish literature, and taught as part of the national curriculum. It was written as the first book in the trilogy, A Scots Quair, which charts the life of Chris Guthrie, from late 19th century through to the 1920s. Written from the girl’s perspective, it is remarkable not only for its strong evocation of this part of Scotland, but also for its uncanny emotional resonance.
Another renowned northeast writer is Neil Gunn, born in Dunbeath, Caithness, in 1891. His writings, which deal with the disintegration of the old Highland way of life in the wake of the Clearances and the struggle to adapt to new conditions, also convey a strong sense of place and are as important to Scottish literature and identity as Faulkner and Dostoevsky are to the USA and Russia. Amongst his best-known works is Silver Darlings (1939), the title of which refers to the booming herring industry. Gunn died in 1973.
For its size, Orkney has produced a disproportionate number of well-loved and much- read authors. The poet, novelist and playwright, George Mackay Brown, gained even more popularity after the posthumous publication of his autobiography, following his death in 1996. Like Gunn and Grassic Gibbon before him, Brown is inextricably linked to his homeland and evokes the spirit and landscapes of his beloved Orkney with a deft sensitivity, bringing a strong poetic impulse to bear on the social realism of his novels. Amongst his best is Greenvoe, published in 1972. Eric Linklater (1899-1974) is another Orcadian whose copious output of books and poems gained him international recognition. The Dark of Summer best represents his compelling style.
One of the most important 20th-century Scottish writers, perhaps the most important, is Hugh MacDiarmid (1892-1978). Born Christopher Murray Grieve, in the Scottish border town of Langholm, MacDiarmid, as with many Scottish writers of the 20th century, was fiercely political, becoming a founding member of the Scottish National Party (SNP) in 1928. During the 1930s, MacDiarmid moved to the remote Shetland island of Whalsay. He continued writing ground-breaking poetry, becoming increasingly convinced that the essential Scottish human condition could not be fully expressed through the English language alone but rather through a plurality of voices, including Lowland Scots dialect and the Gaelic language. Though recognized as the major force behind the Sottish Literary Renaissance, MacDiarmid’s life was a frugal one and he died a man of modest means, near Biggar, in 1978. His best-known work, A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle, was published in 1926.
Another 20th-century giant is Robin Jenkins, referred to as ‘the Scottish Thomas Hardy’. It was Jenkins who put his native city of Glasgow firmly on the literary map. His most Glaswegian of novels, A Very Scotch Affair (Gollancz, 1968), is still regarded as a high point in pre-1970s Glasgow fiction. Jenkins is also recognized as the founder of new Scottish fiction and a precursor to Kelman and Welsh as portraying an unsentimental view of Scottish life. Among his other novels are The Cone Gatherers (MacDonald 1955), Fergus Lamont (Edinburgh Canongate 1979) and Childish Things (Canongate 2001).
Another Glasgow literary talent of this time is William McIlvanney. Though he had already published two Glasgow novels in the 1960s, it was the following decade which saw him emerge as one of the city’s greats. In Laidlaw (Hodder and Stoughton, 1977), McIlvanney explored Glasgow’s seedy, criminal underbelly through the eyes of the eponymous police Detective-Inspector, who became as much a part of the city as Ian Rankin’s Rebus has become a part of Edinburgh. Two subsequent crime thrillers featuring Laidlaw, The Papers of Tony Veitch (Hodder and Stoughton, 1983) and Strange Loyalties (Hodder and Stoughton, 1991) helped McIlvanney transcend the crime novel genre, in the same way that Ian Rankin has done today.
Writers, of course, are interested in people and as Ian Rankin says: “Edinburgh’s dualism makes it perfect for tales of people who are not what they seem. It’s a very secretive place, its residents reticent”. It was this characteristic that Muriel Spark captured in her classic novel The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1965). In 1981 Alasdair Gray’s totally original debut novel, Lanark: A Life in Four Books (Canongate, 1981), changed everything. It single-handedly raised the profile of Scottish fiction. Suddenly, the outside world stood up and took notice. Since then, Scottish writers have gone from strength to strength, most notably with James Kelman, a giant on the literary scene, whose brilliant fourth novel, How Late It Was, How Late (Secker and Warburg, 1994), won the Booker Prize. A one-time bus conductor, Kelman is a committed and uncompromising writer whose use of dialect has attracted as much criticism from the literary establishment as it has praise from fellow writers at home. When some reviewers accused him of insulting literature, he retorted that “a fine line can exist between elitism and racism. On matters concerning language and culture the distinction can sometimes cease altogether.”
Kelman has revolutionized Scottish fiction by writing not just dialogue but his entire novels in his own accent, and the debt owed to him by young contemporaries is immense. Writers such as Duncan Mclean, Alan Warner and Irvine Welsh all cite Kelman as a major influence on their writing. Cairns Craig, who has written widely on the modern Scottish novel, states that Kelman’s real importance lies in his original use of the English language. “He can be seen as a post-colonial writer who has displaced and reformed English in a regional mode”. Among Kelman’s finest is his first novel, The Busconductor Hines (Polygon Books, 1984) and A Disaffection (Secker and Warburg, 1989). Kelman’s Translated Accounts (Secker and Warburg, 2001) is believed to be his most ‘difficult’ to date. One literary critic claimed that, while it took Kelman three years to write, it might take the reader three years to understand it.
There are many other notable Glasgow novelists who began to make their name from the 1980s onwards. Jeff Torrington, the Linwood car-plant shop steward who was discovered by Kelman, won the Whitbread Prize for his debut novel Swing Hammer Swing (Secker and Warburg, 1992), which is set in the Gorbals of the late 1960s. Janice Galloway received much praise for her first novel, The Trick is to Keep Breathing (Vintage, 1990), which was on the short-list for Whitbread First Novel, and followed it up with an excellent collection of short stories, Blood (Secker and Warburg, 1991). Another brilliant collection of mostly Glasgow short stories is AL Kennedy’s Night Geometry and the Garscadden Trains (Edinburgh: Polygon, 1991), while So I am Glad (Jonathan Cape, 1995) is a Glaswegian take on Magic Realism.
Scottish literature has long been known for its dark hue. Crime, poverty and social dysfunction have provided rich copy for writers in a world where detectives are never less than hardened and profanity is as prevalent as punctuation. Irvine Welsh whose 1994 cult novel, Trainspotting, shone a spotlight on the city’s drug-ridden underbelly, spawned an entire generation of gritty, realist writing. After a succession of hit and miss follow-ups, Welsh is back to rude health with his latest, Porno (2002), a sequel to Trainspotting, which sees the return of Renton, Sick Boy, Spud and Begbie.
From the same stable is Alan Warner, whose bleakly humorous Morvern Callar not only put Oban on the literary map but also signalled the arrival of a major and serious new talent, and Laura Hird, whose debut novel, Born Free (Rebel Inc 1999), tells the tale of a dysfunctional family trying to cope with life in one of West Edinburgh’s most notorious housing schemes.
One of the most successful and best-known Scottish authors is Iain Banks, whose shocking debut, The Wasp Factory (1984), heralded a new Scottish writer of considerable imagination and wit. Banks has gone on to become one of the most prolific writers around, penning his best-seller, The Crow Road, and many others, as well as science fiction novels written under the name Iain M Banks.
Perhaps the most successful current Scottish writer is Fife-born Ian Rankin, currently the finest exponent of so-called ‘Tartan Noir’. Rankin’s Inspector Rebus novels give a striking depiction of contemporary Edinburgh. Rankin lives in Edinburgh and walks around the city a lot while researching new titles. He uses real locations and gruesome historical events in his books. Rebus drinks in a real city pub, the Oxford Bar, and in one book Set in Darkness, Rankin uses the story of an act of cannibalism which took place in the 18th century Scottish Parliament. Like the rest of Rankin’s Inspector Rebus novels, this paints a stark, honest picture of contemporary Edinburgh through the eyes of a cynical detective straight out of the Philip Marlowe school of hard cops. His other Rebus novels include The Falls (2001), Black and Blue (1998), A Question of Blood (2003), and The Naming of the Dead (2006), his most recent. Rumour has it that, like Conan Doyle with Sherlock Holmes, Rankin is planning to get rid of Rebus.