Grim yet compelling
This novel caused something of a stir when it won the booker prize in 1994 with one of the judges, Rabbi Julia Neuberger saying “Frankly, it’s crap.” It is not. How Late it Was, How Late is a wonderfully written and finely crafted piece of work.
The novel is a stream of conscious narrative about a small time crook called Sammy, who wakes up after being arrested and assaulted by police officers to find that he is blind. We follow Sammy as he struggles to deal with his new condition and put his life back together. The reader is locked inside the central character’s head and other people fade in and out as Sammy perceives them, some of them becoming more concrete than others. This would make an excellent radio play, with only the words of Sammy to guide us and occasional aural clues to his current situation.
While lacking the more fantastical elements, there are similarities with the work of Irving Welsh in that the narration and speech are delivered in Scottish dialect. This may put some readers off at first, but quickly becomes easy to understand and central to the creation of both the character of Sammy, and the atmosphere of the Glaswegian setting. Welsh and Kelman also share the stream of consciousness style.
Admittedly, How Late it Was, How Late is a bit of a shaggy dog’s tale. Nothing really much happens over the three hundred odd pages and the ending is inconclusive. Readers waiting to find some dramatic revelation about Sammy or the events behind his blindness will be disappointed. The pleasure here is in the recounting of the story in Sammy’s compelling voice. It is testament to Kelman’s skill that although often dealing with mundane aspects of life, and having few breaks in the text, the story rarely seems to lag
Sammy is a man to be found up and down the British Isles. He is worn out by the world, and struggling just to stay sane by relying on his personal brand of pessimistic philosophy. This is a common picture of disadvantaged life, of people who make their way through petty crime and from benefit cheque to benefit cheque, while relying on the prop of alcohol. Sammy is resolved to the idea that he cannot win and that he must savour his small victories when he can. As such then this novel is a picture of poverty in the late eighties and early nineties and perhaps belongs as much in the tradition of writing such as Robert Tressell’s The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists as anything written by Irving Welsh.
How Late it Was, How Late is clever and perceptive, well worth reading.
Adam, ‘How late it was, how late’ is one of my all time favourite books. I first came across this on my first year reading list (at Glasgow), along with ‘Lanark’ by Alasdair Gray, another great Glaswegian writer.
I love the premise being the story, with the protagonist’s (if you can call him that as he seems to have no conscious will) blindness being a metaphor for that groping for meaning in a world we have no control over, and the first person non-writer artless writing which is of course, the hardest way to write. I also love the ending – the anti-climactic yet hopeful new start in England.
Try and get hold of ‘A Disaffection’, if you can. It’s almost a companion piece, with a very middle class teacher with an unrequited love finding himself disintegrating in exactly the same way, although in very different circumstances. Strangely, although my life matches his much more, I found myself identifying with Sammy!
I love this book and I reread it often. Glad you discovered it. I recognise that copy which was fourth hand when I got it!
I enjoyed the book but I couldn’t go so far as to say it was one of my all time favourites. I do agree it’s quite a feat of writing though. I found the ending to be quite disappointing. I was waiting for some revelation about Sammy’s recent criminal activity that tied the whole thing together, but of course it’s not that kind of book.
You gave that copy to Ken and that’s how it got to me.
My reading rate has really slowed down since I started my MA. Now I have my head stuck in second language acquisition books!
I actually like the ending; there’s this vague but probably-not-to-be-realised hope that it will be a new start, and things will be different. It’s written in that same kind of way as ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime’, in a way – that naive first person thing, where the reader sees what is really happening. I first read this book at university and I think it was the first time I’d really seen anything like that, so it really captured my imagination, along with ‘Lanark’, another confessional style Glasgow book.
I’m doing an MA in Applied Linguistics (only studied ‘unapplied’ linguistics, so far …) with translation starting next year, if all goes to plan. Now I’m going gangbusters, learning all sorts of bizarre vocab for my HSK (Chinese IELTS!)so I won’t bomb that element of the degree – so I’m not reading that many novels right now, either, although I do skive. Good luck with it, anyway. If you ever need anything from OUP (where I work), let me know – it’ll cost a bit to send, but my staff discout will cancel it out.
Well, I suppose if it eneded any other way it would’t feel right really. It would be too perfect and whole which would definitely not reflect the nature of Sammy’s life. I mean, it’s perfectly acceptable to have it end in the way it does (inevitable, I suppose) but I guess the kid in me is always looking for a pay off at the end. Still, as you say, it is a great book.
One day I’ll have time to improve my Chinese in a bit more of a constructive manner than I do right now. My neighbour has just rang my bell at 7am and wanted to talk about painting the walls of the stairwell. He point blank refused to understand me even though I was perfectly able to have the conversation with him. Sometimes it’s difficult to break down other people’s stupidity with my linguistic skills.
Nice to hear that I’m not the only one crazy enough to do an MA. Jia Yo!