As much as I loved Douglas Stuart's debut novel “Shuggie Bain” and its complex portrayal of a mother's addiction to alcohol, I was left longing to know a bit more about Shuggie himself and what it's like to be a young working class gay boy in Scotland. There are many touching scenes with Shuggie and it primarily focuses on his perspective, but it's really the story of his mum Agnes. So I was thrilled to find that “Young Mungo” is almost exclusively about Mungo himself. Superficially the two novels might seem similar as they include characters from the same socio-economic background in the 1990s who are also wrestling with issues to do with poverty, addiction and toxic masculinity. However, the characters in “Young Mungo” are distinct and deal with the challenges they face in very different ways. Another issue which is touched upon in “Shuggie Bain” that I wanted to read more about was the sectarian conflict in Glasgow between Catholics and Protestants. This clash is also brought centre stage in this new novel because Mungo is born into a Protestant family and gets drawn into the resulting street violence with Catholics. Moreover, it's the queer 'Romeo & Juliet' story I always longed to read because Mungo falls for Catholic teen James. The result is a beautiful and devastatingly moving romance that's also about a personal quest for acceptance in a community that cannot accept or allow difference.
The novel is cleverly framed around a fishing trip that Mungo's mother forces him to join in order to toughen him up. The two older men who lead him into the wilderness grow increasingly sinister and there is a building tension to this storyline intercut with scenes leading up to this expedition. Gradually we get to intimately know about the struggle of this young man who was named after the patron saint of Glasgow. Naturally Mungo is severely teased about his name. However, he's also made to feel severely self-conscious about his nature and mannerisms which don't conform to the macho walk of other “Proddie boys”. The author poignantly describes this pressure to conform: “This swagger was a uniform as ubiquitous as any football top. It had a gangly forward motion like a big-balled, bandy-legged weasel, head swung low, eyes always fixed on the prey ahead, ready to lunge with either a fist or a silver blade. Mungo tried his best to wear the uniform but he felt like an imposter. It was a poor imitation.” It's so powerful how the language Stuart uses in this description is laced with the potential violence simmering beneath the surface.
When this violence actually occurs in the story it's brutal and horrible, but it's certainly not simply for dramatic effect. Given the real life cruelty so many young men like Mungo have experienced and continue to experience this depiction feels both pointed and relevant. For some people reading a physical copy of the UK hardback in public will be a challenge in itself. The cover photograph by Wolfgang Tillmans which depicts two men kissing might stir adverse reactions from some who notice it and this potential might make some readers self-conscious about holding the book up, but I feel like this adds to the provocative statement this novel is making. For those who have trepidation about reading such a proudly gay story with an in-your-face cover I think it's also important to note that this is a novel that balances its sexual scenes with an exquisitely delicate tenderness which anyone can relate to. Equally, its violent scenes are balanced with endearing humour and a welcome message of hope. Nor does it simply present a cast composed of heroes and villains. Mungo's mother, brother and the men who take him into the wilderness are nuanced individuals whose cruel and unfortunate actions spring from a mixture of selfishness and the overwhelming pressure of their circumstances. It's also poignant how his spirited sister Jodie faces her own troubled journey as a clever young woman being used by a married man.
I have a particular personal appreciation for how this novel presents the way James, a rural gay teen in the 90s, longed for platonic connections with other gay guys and how he found this through a party line phone service. It was something I could really relate to having grown up in the same pre-internet era when I had to find innovative ways of making such connections with a dispersed small pool of individuals under the fear of being found out. Though there's so much about this novel's craft I admire, it's this kind of detail and the beauty of its central love story which really tugged at my heartstrings.
