Showing posts with label Scottish Novels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scottish Novels. Show all posts

Monday, July 27, 2015

The Last Days of Disco by David F. Ross (Orenda Books 2014)




2ND FEBRUARY 1982: 2:26PM

Fat Franny Duncan loved the Godfather movies, but he did not belong to this new band of theorists who reckoned II was better than I. For Fat Franny, original was most certainly best, although, given the success of the films and the timelessness of the story, he was staggered that there hadn’t been a III, like there had been with Rocky. He also couldn’t comprehend why there had been no book spin-off, although, even if there had, he would certainly not be wasting his time reading it. He knew the dialogue from both films pretty much by heart, and used their most famous quotes as a design for life. Particularly the lines of Don Corleone, who Fat Franny felt certain he would resemble later in his life. He was, after all, fat. There was no denying this. Bulk for Brando’s most famous character helped afford him gravitas and – as a consequence – respect; a level of respect that Fat Franny felt was within his grasp. Michael was a skinny Tally bastard and, although he undoubtedly commanded reverence, it was driven by fear.

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Flood by Ian Rankin (Orion 1986)


He examined the faces along the edge of the bus, studying their reflections in the glass. The sun streamed in, and the tiny openings of the windows caused the passengers to broil. One old man looked on to the countryside as if surprised by it. His head shook like a clockwork toy. Sandy thought to himself that this man must have seen a lot of things - the war, the hunger of the Twenties and Thirties, death, decay, a quickly changing world. What good had it done him? He looked as if he might die at any moment, not having comprehended half of what he had seen in his life. Waste. That was the keyword. Perhaps Sandy would write a story about it all when he returned home. It seemed an important enough thing to write about. He wrote a lot of stories and poems in his room.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Buddha Da by Anne Donovan (Canongate Books 2003)



'Most religions do have a god, or gods, but Buddhism doesn't.'

'Ah thought that was whit religion was - worshippin sumpn.'

Mr Henderson smiled. 'If that was the case then supporting Celtic or Rangers or even,' he turnt tae big Davie McCormack, 'Partick Thistle would be a religion.'

'Haw sur, that's no funny slaggin him aff for bein a Partick Thistle supporter,' Angela Hughes piped up fae the back. 'His da brung him up tae it.'

Everybody burst oot laughin. Mr Henderson laughed too. 'That would definitely make it a religion then. I hope you didn't think I was laughing at David for supporting Partick Thistle. I only know because I see him there on the terraces every week.'

'Are you sayin you're a Jags fan?' Kevin Anderson looked up fae drawin RFC on the inside cover of his jotter.

'I am indeed,' said Mr Henderson. Kevin went back tae his drawin.