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cais 's review for:
Morvern Callar
by Alan Warner
“I let my legs sink down; my nudeness below in the blackwater; legs hung in that huge deep under me and the layer on layer and fuzzy mush of star pinpricks were above with the little buzz of me in between.”
Let me preface this by noting that Irvine Welsh’s quote on the cover of the edition I have is stupid. He calls Morvern a “sassy party chick?” What. No. I don’t think he even read this book.
My 4th (5th? 6th?) reading of this, last time being over a decade ago. Morvern is still one of my favorite fictional creations of all time.
After Morvern’s older, strange boyfriend kills himself in gruesome fashion, she makes a series of decisions that might seem appalling and, yes, they are astounding things. But in writing her Warner doesn’t judge her & the reader shouldn’t either. She’s 21, dropped out of high school to work in a superstore, one of the only places to work in a northern Scottish port town. 40 hours a week on slave wages, her time devoured by this grind. “No much room for poetry there, eh?” her foster dad laments.
Free time is clubbing, drinking, sex. Not much thinking. Her instincts have been honed by a capitalist class system. But after the boyfriend, in-between seeking any oblivion, there are brief moments of feeling, of consciousness evolving. She moves back & forth between the surface freedom of wild hedonism to the deeper freedom of paying attention & being present in the moment.
While the spirit & freedom of the 90s rave culture in the UK & Europe plays a large part in this book, there’s much more here. This book is mostly about repressed grief, about a kind of nihilism born of having few options in life & feeling like you don’t deserve better – “I closed my eyes there in the quietness just breathing in and breathing in. I hadnt slept for three days so I could know every minute of that happiness that I never even dared dreamed I had the right.”
An incredible book.
(The film adaptation is not-bad-but-not-great. Samantha Morton is good, cinematography is beautiful, great soundtrack, but they didn't really get at the heart of the book or of Morvern.)
Let me preface this by noting that Irvine Welsh’s quote on the cover of the edition I have is stupid. He calls Morvern a “sassy party chick?” What. No. I don’t think he even read this book.
My 4th (5th? 6th?) reading of this, last time being over a decade ago. Morvern is still one of my favorite fictional creations of all time.
After Morvern’s older, strange boyfriend kills himself in gruesome fashion, she makes a series of decisions that might seem appalling and, yes, they are astounding things. But in writing her Warner doesn’t judge her & the reader shouldn’t either. She’s 21, dropped out of high school to work in a superstore, one of the only places to work in a northern Scottish port town. 40 hours a week on slave wages, her time devoured by this grind. “No much room for poetry there, eh?” her foster dad laments.
Free time is clubbing, drinking, sex. Not much thinking. Her instincts have been honed by a capitalist class system. But after the boyfriend, in-between seeking any oblivion, there are brief moments of feeling, of consciousness evolving. She moves back & forth between the surface freedom of wild hedonism to the deeper freedom of paying attention & being present in the moment.
While the spirit & freedom of the 90s rave culture in the UK & Europe plays a large part in this book, there’s much more here. This book is mostly about repressed grief, about a kind of nihilism born of having few options in life & feeling like you don’t deserve better – “I closed my eyes there in the quietness just breathing in and breathing in. I hadnt slept for three days so I could know every minute of that happiness that I never even dared dreamed I had the right.”
An incredible book.
(The film adaptation is not-bad-but-not-great. Samantha Morton is good, cinematography is beautiful, great soundtrack, but they didn't really get at the heart of the book or of Morvern.)