Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

Am I crazy for thinking this almost rivals Trainspotting? Probably. I never see people include this on their list of favorite Irvine Welsh books, but it's right up there for me. Sequels are usually disappointing, and the idea of seeing your favorite slackers 10 years on (give or take), skag-free, with adult responsibilities doesn't sound very appealing, but, trust me, they haven't changed that much.

And while Trainspotting felt like more of a short story collection than a conventional novel, Porno is more linear, less chaotic, more focused. It's written in the same style of alternating first-person narrators with wildly different views on common events, but the number of characters and locations is pared down so as to be less confusing. Welsh does as much with his characters' voices (the language, slang and dialect) as anyone I've read, and there's certainly nothing else like it in literature that I'm aware of. His narrators sometimes have this manic stream of consciousness style that is just spellbinding. No real action is taking place, and yet, I can't put the book down to save my life. Hours fly by like minutes and I end up finding myself pissed off at the sun for rising in a couple hours and making me go to sleep.

The onlay bad thing aboot readin' an Irvine Welsh novay is ah cannae stoap thinkin' en Scoatish dialect for yonks afterwords, likes, but ah'm no really complainin', ken? It just gies pure seared intae ma brain and thairs nowt ah can dae aboot it, likesay. Now let's jist hope Danny Boyle does the adaptation justice, the doss cunt. Otherwise, eh'll be gittin' a burst mooth!