This Bright Life by Karen Campbell review: 'intelligent and sympathetic'

There are two nations in Glasgow, the rich and the poor, and this novel illustrates that they don’t always speak the same language, writes Allan Massie

Karen Campbell has a substantial body of work to her credit - this is her ninth novel, and it will only add to her popularity and reputation. It has its faults, to my mind anyway, but this is true of almost all novels. A short poem or indeed a short story can be perfect - think, for example, of Chekhov - but a novel by its nature cannot escape imperfections. In almost all there are some tedious passages, too much elaboration, and that is the case here. This is principally because the novel is written in the present tense, not best suited to narrative. This almost always invites overelaboration. I confess that I have come to dislike first-person narratives, though I am aware that many think otherwise. It says much for Campbell that her characters, settings and story are in general so well done that I was able to set these feelings to one side and still enjoy and admire the book.

There is a large cast, but the two principals are a 12 year-old boy, Gerard, and an 80 year-old widow, Margaret. Gerard hates his name - it attracts too many nicknames. He's a poor boy who runs free -and cycles free - in the streets of Glasgow. His home life is dreadful: an absent father, a mother who drinks and takes drugs, a seven-year old brother, Anthony, and a baby sister, Miranda. Gerard may revel in the freedom of the streets, but at home he is burdened by responsibilities, too many of them, more than is fair. Moreover, home has to be defended. There is always the fear of social workers and the danger of being taken into care.

Margaret is a widow. She lives in "the douce part of Dennistoun, a handsome grid of sandstone streets". She has lived there for 60 years, since her husband, Albert Camberg - I like to think he is a relation of Muriel Spark, nee Camberg - brought her there. Albert is dead now. Margaret exceeded the local life expectancy by a healthy margin. Her part of town is attracting the middle-classes now; a lawyer, Claire, has just bought a house there. Perhaps Albert's bespoke tairoring shop, now run by his old assistant, will come back into fashion. Meanwhile Margaret reads, enjoys her furniture and William Morris curtains . She's an admirable character; you would like more of her as she is when we first meet her.

Then, an accident. Out in the streets Margaret is knocked over by a boy on a bike. The lawyer, Clare, returning to her new flat, is sure she sees the boy stealing her purse and gives chase, while others wait for the ambulance. She catches him and - nice macabre touch - also picks up Margaret's false teeth, which have fallen out of her mouth.

So we have the set-up. Will Margaret recover? And how will Gerard fare in the hands of the police, first, and then the social services? Everything flows from this incident, which sets what proves to be an engaging plot in motion.

Conferences concerning the family, all brought in for examination, duly follow, and these are splendidly done. Campbell, who before becoming a novelist, was in the police herself, deals all with this admirably. There are two nations in Glasgow, the rich and the poor, and they don't speak the same language. The conference scenes are brilliantly done. Here indeed, I must confess, is a time when the wretched present tense proves effective - and, if you like, proves me wrong.

There is no doubt that all the officials are well-meaning, but they don't understand the language of the clients and the clients are lost for words in reply. There are also good scenes when Claire and another middle-class occupant of a flat in the building try, with difficulty, to help a bemused Margaret when she returns from hospital; some of this is sad, some funny. But the rest of the novel really belongs to Gerard and the question of how he survives or is dragged down by the consequences of his moments of carelessness - this on behalf of his wretched mother and young siblings. He is an engaging character and you hope things will turn out well for him.

In short, this is a very good, intelligent and sympathetic novel, one that almost persuaded me to set aside my dislike of the first-person narrative. Campbell is a fine novelist, one adept in setting a scene, and one whose sympathy for her characters is delightful. She brings them all intelligently to life. All the same, I still hope she may turn to a third person, absent, narrator in the future.

This Bright Life, by Karen Campbell, Canongate, £16