Reading Trainspotting
by Irvine Welsh is difficult, no doubt about. After struggling through the
Scottish dialect’s bizarre spelling, you are then tasked with understanding a
jargon that is unique to Edinburgh. Phrases such as ‘she nivir sais nowt tae
me, ah whinge, biscuit-ersed’ are bewildering. Over-time, I’ve gotten used to
the Scottish vernacular, it is easy to understand the narrator saying ‘she
never says nothing to me, I whinged’. However, to understand the term
‘biscuit-ersed’ I had to resort to looking at an urban dictionary (turns out to
mean ‘feeble’ or ‘weak’). This relatively confusing phonetic voice is supported
by the constant shifts in the narrator’s perception of self.
Mark, the narrator aka Rent Boy, is
a heroine addict and his vice seems to be catching up to already. At various
points in the text, Mark refers to himself as ‘us’, suggesting that he has
multiple personalities. The ambiguity of his mental condition is evident in the
randomness of changes in personal reference. Though the shifts can not occur
for pages at a time, it is also possible for it to change within a sentence
such as the following; ‘Ay took ma last shot in order tae git us through the
horrors ay the shopping trip’. I believe that ‘us’ is primarily used to point
out Mark’s inner demons, those who fuel themselves off the smack he injects
into his arm. By adding plurality, he assumes his role in his addiction, albeit
a less significant one, in company of his inner demons. The ‘us’ is satisfied
once its desire for the dream world of heroine is achieved.
I look forward to reading the
remainder of this baffling text.
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