Raving, Not Ranting

I was going to write one of those 'the world and his brother' is a tosser type posts, but luckily someone fanned me down with a copy of Are We Prisoners of Our Genes, so the misanthropy has been put on the back-burner for the time being.

What prompted my feelings of temporary malevolence was the experience of trying to lug a massive bag full of books through the rush hour London Underground last Friday morning, and the sheer bastard ignorance of the majority of commuters who were barging past me in their haste to sign themselves in for another day of wage slavery. Can't be late, can't be late for work. The boss might be clocking what time I get in at my desk. (Christ I better stop now before I launch into Mr Clean.)

What definitely calmed me down is that once I was on the bus to get back up the road, I took the opportunity to re-read one of my favourite books of all time: Gordon Legge's collection of short stories, In Between Talking About Football. Originally published by Polygon Press back in '91, it contains such gems as 'A Tin of Pears, A Lump of Cheese and Stewed Tea', which is about his Communist Grandfather; 'I Never Thought It Would Be You', a story about a young couple that you just want to be based on Legge's personal life 'cos there is such a sweetness to it; 'At Drink-Two Men', a hilarious two hander between two pals getting drunk in a pub as they stare at the nineties full on whilst swapping jokes, verbal punches and banter about Trevorland, the Willie Miller brothers and Marks and Sparks jumpers; and the ongoing saga of 'Life on a Scottish Council Estate Vol 1. Chapters 1-3'. Think of a cross between Hollyoaks, Meantime and a Martin Millar novel, and you are half-way there.

The blurb on the back, which is always handy for cutting blogging corners, has a quote from the Independent, whose reviewer writes of Legge as " . . . a straight Scottish version of Armistead Maupin". I can see that comparison but Legge has always been pretty explicit in signposting those writers he loves, and he hasn't been shy in acknowledging the influence of such American writers as Richard Brautigan, Charles Bukowski and Raymond Carver.

If you get the chance, check it out and also look out for his two wonderful novels, The Shoe and I Love Me (Who Do You Love?) Grangemouth must put something wonderful in the water if it can produce both Legge and the Cocteau Twins. Last I heard, Legge was working as a nurse in Edinburgh but if and when he brings out a new book, I'll be that geek camping outside Waterstones in Edinburgh in my Buzz Lightyear sleeping bag, listening to some brilliant music on my mp3 player, and waiting for the doors to open so I can shoplift a copy as soon as it appears on the shelf.

Typed out below is a wee taster of 'In Between Talking About Football'. A one paragraph short story entitled 'The Sixties':

I remember the lorries going up and down our street. I remember the outside toilet and the metal bath. I remember my dad on the railways and my mum beating carpets. I remember our first car and the door that fell off. I remember the smells of petrol and diesel and beaches and fields. I remember a really brilliant game of football being stopped cause we had to go in and watch some arseholes walking on the moon. I remember an orange shirt and an orange tie. I remember Mrs Spiller's mini . . . and what we did to Debbie Brown at the bowling club. I remember my first girlfriend moving to Stenhousemuir and my second moving to Australia. I remember seeing starving children on television. But I remember being picked for my first proper team. And I remember scoring my first goal with real nets. A twelve-yard volley it was.