It’s quite revealing (to me, knowing myself) that it took me almost two weeks to read this novel, which is just under 500 pages. I wouldn’t say I found it very boring (because I only found it mildly boring), but I wouldn’t say, either, that I didn’t find any other thing or event more interesting than this (because I did).
So yeah, Welsh wrote a sequel to Trainspotting, awesome. The question arises, though: why? Reading Porno, it seems to me that in the years since the era of Trainspotting, the characters have gone on to fit in somewhere, or have gone on to dig themselves completely into a mess, in a way that was already foreseeable during the Trainspotting era. There’s nothing new here, really, and reading two novels about basically the same flavor of fucked-upness is a bit too much.
It wouldn’t necessarily be too much, it could well be interesting, however, Welsh seems to have lost his grip on the world he writes about, and reading his clueless wandering around is somewhat – boring.
Of course, it’s possible that he’s not really clueless, and that this fake cluelessness serves the purpose of expressing the idea that’s often mentioned in the novel: how the old Leith is disappearing, and how soon there will be no-one to remember how it used to be. However, Welsh himself doesn’t seem to remember it all too well, and the brutal, raw, tragic, hopeless, extremely nihilistic yet screamingly funny world of Trainspotting is almost non-existent here. And not because it doesn’t exist anymore – the characters still inhabit that world, it’s only that Welsh doesn’t know anymore how to describe it.
I think the best thing that could have happened to this novel is that it was turned into a film. Sure, T2 Trainspotting has almost nothing to do with the novel, it only uses a couple of basic motifs and episodes from the book, but I feel the film does the thing honestly that Welsh doesn’t do honestly at all: wallowing in dire nostalgia. The film doesn’t really bother with a proper story, it revolves around a couple of funny, unsettling or thought-provoking episodes, Trainspotting-style, and by using great visual and musical effects and references, it becomes a pure nostalgia trip. Which, to me, is perfectly fine – I went to see it four times in the cinema, which is an individual record, and I was never once bored with it.
Compared to the film, though, here Welsh pretends that he isn’t just being nostalgic but has something new to say, and pretends that there’s a proper story (which Trainspotting doesn’t have, and doesn’t need one, either). Problem is that Welsh doesn’t actually have new things to say, and he doesn’t actually seem to know how to write a 500-page long proper story, so in the end this novel is a bit of a torture (to me, to read it), and more than a bit strained.
Anyway, I’ll still come round to read Skagboys one day.