Completed December 2021
SHUGGIE BAIN
I am writing this sitting in a warm flat, with a cup of tea beside me, having just received a Christmas bonus from my full time job. This might seem irrelevant, but it's not. This is the kind of novel which inevitably makes you conscious where you are, in juxtaposition to what you're reading. Most fiction attempts this to an extent, but usually there are more distractions – a dynamic plot, an unravelling mystery – which drags you along with the momentum. But Shuggie Bain doesn't progress in this way; in fact the fate of Shuggie himself is revealed in chapter one. Instead it is purely atmospheric, a deep dive into an ordinary life with nowhere to go.
If it isn't obvious by now, this book is hard hitting. It is raw, and real, and painful. It's dramatic without ever feeling far fetched, and constantly treads the line of everyday mundanity and striking conflict. It's this upset that keeps you as the reader constantly on edge. When the narrative has settled into a rhythm you can be sure you're just pages away from the next bad (often, catastrophic) decision and its fallout. The characters are, despited their failings, never patronised – they are simply flawed, unsurprisingly so given their environment. The glimpses of light in their lives tend to be brief.
The little shocks cut deep, and as the story progresses, you feel a sense of foreboding start to build. In a quiet way, though, rather than snowballing drama. There's just an underlying feeling that the worst is yet to come. This sense of doom reminded me of another novel I've read recently – Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life. Both books were, at times, hard to pick up... and hard to put down. Such is the unflinching power of trauma laid bare.
"It's about love before it's about addiction," claims Stuart. And it's true that the theme of love is interwoven throughout this book, resurfacing frequently around blots of suffering. In fact, some of the most affecting moments are borne from it. Particularly impactful was Shuggie's relationship with his dying mother, and how he cared for her from such an early age. At times this was difficult to read too, because although his love for her was as pure as any, it should never have been his responsibility, as a child.
And as the years rolled on and it became clear – despite Shuggie's prayers – she was never going to get better, a new feeling stuck me. It all felt, sort of, futile. For him to spend his childhood sustaining an alcoholic who could never care for him as she should. But it wasn't long before I realised I was wrong. There was a reason it was all worth it, both from my perspective and I'd be happy to bet, Shuggie's.
To put it simply – it all comes back to love. Just as powerful as their struggle is their affection for one another, and the joy they bring each other. One of my favourite moments was them both using an empty fridge as a paddling pool, which was just as bizarre as it sounds yet the epitome of carefree delight.
I think I'd struggle to read Shuggie Bain again. But I don't think I will need to – the story has burrowed deep, and hopefully its message will accompany me for a long time. There was so much to empathise with in this book, that its trauma hit very close to home. Despite my central heating.
“If I were you, I would keep dancing. You know they only win if you let them.”