That's the thing aboot bein an artist, ye get...creative.When I heard that there was to be a new Irvine Welsh and that he would be devoting the whole book to everyone's favourite amoral psychopath Begbie, I got excited and thought, “Bring it on”. But as The Blade Artist begins, we meet a new sort of character: Begbie is now a celebrated sculptor, living in California with his beautiful young wife and two blonde daughters, and not only has he given up drinking and fighting, but he's given up his name, too – this is literally no longer the Begbie of Trainspotting. All placidity on the exterior – having learned to control his emotions while in prison – “Jim” nonetheless is challenged by outside events: first when his family is threatened by some thugs on the beach, and later, when he gets word that his oldest son, Sean, has been found murdered back home in Edinburgh. What, if anything, will it take for Jim to release Begbie once again? Spoilerish from here.
It's fortuitous that I recently read A Clockwork Orange because I think that Welsh was trying to make the same points as Anthony Burgess did before him (that unbridled ultraviolence is the natural response of the underclasses, but as one matures, an individual can choose to leave it all behind for hearth and home); and to reinforce this connection, A Clockwork Orange is the book that Begbie keeps returning to on his Kindle. The Blade Artist is divided into alternating threads, and in two of them, Welsh tries to explain what childhood influences made Begbie the monster he became (in one, his Granddad Jock grooms the boy for a life of gangsterism, and in the other, undiagnosed dyslexia makes the young Begbie a target for schoolyard bullies: this is why he learned to fight back, fight first, and fight dirty, and in those days, Mark Renton was his only ally [which explains, I suppose, what I always thought of as an unlikely friendship]). Unfortunately, I think I liked Begbie better when he just seemed broken: this nature and nurture explanation undermines all the transgressive thrills I ever received from the character. In the main thread of the storyline, Begbie goes home to Scotland for his son's funeral, and while there, digs around the old neighbourhood for clues about the murder, and in the fourth thread (about Salsa Dancing, of all things), there's a big ironic reveal about how Begbie's own terrible parenting of the sons from his first (common-law) marriage may have contributed to that murder. In the end, Welsh takes the ideas from A Clockwork Orange a bit further: every thug does have the opportunity to walk away from violence, but that's a matter of self-control; the monster that society created will always lurk inside.
Begbie received a lot of therapy in prison: not only from the Art Therapist whom he eventually married, but also from those who helped him master his dyslexia. He went on to become a voracious reader, and along with consuming all the classics of fiction, he gave himself a broad education; to the point where he now talks like this:
The truth is that we’ve moved beyond democracy, universality and equality in the eyes of the law and, de facto, embraced a hierarchical, elitist world view.So is that still Begbie? One of the things I loved about the other books in the Trainspotting series was Welsh's dense Leith dialect, and I have to admit that I was disappointed to see very little of that here (even if it does prove that Begbie has transformed, I wanted the familiar experience). I did like going back to the old neighbourhood to see how life was treating those who didn't escape their roots (and as for the old characters, we get to see Juice Terry, “Tyrone” Powers, Larry, and Spud); there is something kind of sad about a middle-aged delinquent. The best part about this section is watching Begbie refusing to react as other characters try to get him to take his revenge against his son's murderer; not knowing when or if the old psychopath will take over.
People need myths; they desperately embrace them tae gie their empty lives meaning.I was quite attached to the myth of Begbie and I very nearly resent Irvine Welsh for taking him away from me; by explaining his pathologies away with a terrible childhood, Begbie becomes all too (tragically; boringly) human. Trainspotting did a genius job of showing the local effects of the political decisions made in faraway London without ever getting overtly political, but with The Blade Artist, Welsh brings the liberal reformist politics front and center; as a result, the art suffers. Although there were many interesting and satisfying bits, this wasn't my favourite book.
