Andro Linklater
Despite the knobbly monotone of his writing, James Kelman's collection of short stories, The Burn (Seeker, £13.99), keeps its uncomfortable shape quite clear in my mind while other books, more immediately enjoyable, have crumbled to dust. As a literary evocation of Glasgow working-class sensibilities, the title story is beyond praise. The most surprising pleasure came from a remaindered copy of I Served the King of England (Chatto, £12.99, remaindered at £2.99) by the Czech writer, Bohumil Hrabal, whose name was unknown to me. The service is that of a waiter who, through the experience of the 20th century, is apotheosed into St Francis, and its sweet and surreal quality is admirably caught by Paul Wilson's translation. Re-reading The Satanic Verses (Viking, £12.99) by Salman Rushdie was a reminder of its enduring quality as satire, and of the inescapable truth that the censorship formerly imposed by Czech authorities on writers in their country, is indivisible from that which Muslim fundamentalists would impose on writers everywhere.
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