Billy and the Devil, by Dean Lilleyman

This bizarre novel (told through a large number of very short, fleeting chapters from varied perspectives) tells the story of Billy, an alcoholic. Billy is viewed by those around him as a devil of sorts because he hurts everyone with his actions when he's drunk. He is, by all accounts, a terrible human being.

I like stories about terrible human beings because usually there is a reason for what they do, and in real life we seldom look for that reason. Yet, in novels, sometimes we can find sympathy for the devil. Yes, that's the name of a Rolling Stones song, and yes that song is mentioned a handful of times through the book.

We follow Billy's life from before he was even born up until an ambiguous ending of sorts, and always we see the side toll of addiction. We know that if Billy was a player in our own lives, we would be harmed by him and push him away for the awful things he does, but as a character in this novel we pity him.

Billy is drinking heavily from age eleven. As an adult he cannot drink without pushing on through to complete drunkenness, and when he is drunk he invariably ends up doing awful things. He cheats, he starts fights, he alienates everyone.

There is one scene when he actually - uncharacteristically - goes to Alcoholics Anonymous and ends up telling a sad story and cries in front of everyone in the room. Of course, for a working class Glaswegian this is too much to bear and he goes start to the "offy" (off-licence) to buy more booze and get drunk.

The book is depressing in many ways, and it takes a while to get into it. The fragmentary nature of its composition is challenging at first, but soon you realize this is how Billy sees his own life. This is how life can be. It ends up being a rewarding, powerful book. 

The Man Who Cycled The World, by Mark Beaumont

Being back in Scotland for a week, I decided to read some paperback books that my family had on the shelves as a bit of a change of pace from my usual digital diet of reading material. First up was Mark Beaumont's The Man Who Cycled The World.



I was attracted to this book because one of my New Year resolutions is to start cycling again and I'd like to do some sort of long-distance trip one day. In fact, to be entirely honest, I'd love to cycle right the way around the world, as the author did. By coincidence, Beaumont is also a Scot like me.

The book is interesting for someone like me, with an interest in travel and mildly interested in bikes, and overall it's a pretty good read. However, the author also seems a little hard to relate to. He's obviously rather well-off and although people might say that about me, too, I nonetheless felt disengaged from his "struggle." For me, if you can raise almost $50,000 to cycle around the world, it's not really easy to comprehend your mindset. I'm the sort of person who hitch-hikes and backpacks and I wouldn't even know what to do if I had $50,000 in the bank.

Beaumont does travel cheap up to a point, like me, but he also meets up with masseuses and team members around the world and is always in the phone to his mum. It's not really the sort of rugged adventure that one might have hoped for.

As a writer, too, he is lacking. Not that it's awful, but with his position of privilege, his background, his somewhat arrogant nature, and then his unnatural storytelling method, it left me cold.