A review by dcossai
Common People: An Anthology of Working Class Writers by Kit de Waal

4.0

Common People is born out of a reality which we rarely think about, but one which strikes us as obviously true when we’re confronted with it so directly: most of the time we think of reading, writing and publishing as middle class pursuits. Working class people do not have the luxury of indulging in creative writing courses, networking with publishers, or sipping posh coffees while typing their next novel on a fancy new Macbook. Nor do they have the time to read.

Or so we’re told.

Kit de Waal brings together dozens of well established British and (Northern) Irish writers (Malorie Blackman & Lisa McInerney, to name a couple) from working class backgrounds with one aim: to highlight and reclaim the role of the working class in literature. Together they form an eclectic collection of essays (mainly), short stories and a couple of poems. There is only one common thread running through this very diverse set of pieces: the working class reality. Most contributors take a memoir-like approach, often from childhood, highlighting the beliefs, convictions and passions of working class families. Others take a more academic approach, and others still directly address the working class in relation to writing/publishing and the prejudices and assumptions they often face in the industry. Few come under this final category, but then, their writing isn’t formed by these prejudices alone but by the totality of their experience, one that is much richer than that of the stock working class characters we often find in literature. For the working class is not just work: it is the sheer delight a grandmother feels when she is able to buy a brand new school uniform for her grandchildren, or what Leicester City winning the Premier League means for an entire community. Weddings and funerals, darts and billiards, Grenfell and Brexit, and so many more topics take centre stage in piece after piece.

Why doesn’t the working class feel the need to tell its stories, asks one writer? At the end of this book, I’m left with only one answer: it does - we’re just not very good at recognising them.