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Title: Weslh Imitating Welsh
Review: I hope this isn't true, but if "Glue" is any indication of the current state of Irvine Welsh's creative juices, than he is in a state of disrepair, or worse, decline. The novel is Welsh imitating Welsh. He tries to convey the best aspects of his earlier work - the slaggin' Scot slang of the urban poor best found in Trainspotting, provocative scenes best found in T-Spotting or Maribou Stork Nightmares or Acid House - but it comes across as trying rather than being, a fatal flaw for any writer, let alone one as previously charismatic as Welsh. It's tired writing, without any real edge, cliche-ridden to the point where Welsh brings back characters from the T-Spotting. Sad to say, these are the only interesting scenes in the novel. Stop recycling, Irvine, it's bad for your health and mine.
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