Review: The Cutting Room by Louise Welsh

(Recommended to me by a good friend (Scottish photographer and Dewar award winner Alex Boyd) 

Product Summary

When Rilke, a dissolute and promiscuous auctioneer, comes upon a hidden collection of seemingly violent photographs, he feels compelled to unearth more about the deceased owner who coveted them. What follows is a compulsive journey of discovery, decadence, and deviousness that leads Rilke into a dark underworld of transvestite clubs, seedy bars, and porn shops. In this hidden city haunted by a host of vividly drawn characters, Rilke comes face to face with the dark desires and illicit urges that lurk behind even the most respectable facades.

First Impressions

The Cutting Room, debut novel of Scottish writer Louise Welsh, is by far one of the most beautiful works of modern prose I've ever encountered. But I don't expect you to take my word for it. Let me offer up three brief passages to support my claim:

"I missed the street hawkers and book barrows of Paddy's Market's prime, shook my head at what passed for quality, and pitied youth. The best was not yet to come. It had vanished for ever."

"Still, impressed as I was, I did notice an absence. Usually you get a feel for the person who used to live in the house you're clearing - little things, style, a mode of living. You find photographs, souvenirs and keepsakes. Their books reveal interests, and inside their books are clues: tickets for a train taken every day; cinema stubs; theatre programmes; letters. I've found pressed flowers, leaflets from Alcoholics Anonymous, birthday cards, the bottle behind the wardrobe, love notes, cruel letters from the bank, baby's curls, the leash of a dog long dead, neglected urns, whips, library books years overdue, size-twelve stilettos in a bachelor's apartment. Of Mr McKindless I was no wiser by the end of the day than I'd been at the beginning. There was a sterility to the collection, an almost self-conscious expense about the dead man's possessions. Everything said: I am a very rich man; nothing more."

"Pornography is a versatile industry, it moves with the times. When the first caveman discovered he could paint on walls, using dyes fashioned from earth and ash, another dirty little Homo erectus saw the chance to draw a bare naked lady."

Exquisite, isn't it? This book is an absolute delight to read, from cover to cover. Aspiring authors should also take note because The Cutting Room is one of the finest specimens of the "show, don't tell" literary rule. Much is revealed not by the author's competent command of language, but by the actions of her characters. Rilke in particular has a great deal of back story never explained, yet clear as day, thanks to Welsh's illustrative example of this literary principle.

While classified as a thriller, I shy away from describing The Cutting Room as such; those looking for a traditional thriller will undoubtedly be stupefied at the leisurely pace of the novel. This is not a cliffhanger-at-the-end-of-every-chapter sort of thriller, constantly driving the plot forward, rather it is more of a sedate thriller--a sleeper thriller if you will, driven by a single question.

Right before the denouement there is a marked increase in intensity and consequence. When the thrill does arrive it arrives suddenly, like an unexpected blow to the face towards the end of the novel. While not unbelievable, I'm still not sure where I stand with such a dramatic change so late in the text and I wouldn't be surprised if this temporary departure was regarded as problematic by some readers. Cautionary comment aside, this novel ends well. 

Final Thoughts

Some authors are great storytellers. Others make up for their lack of ability with beautiful prose (look no further than to some prominent examples of recent literary fiction). Louise Welsh is one of the select few today capable of weaving spellbinding plot and literary prowess together under one cover, exceeding all of my expectations of a debut novel.