Granta 119: Britain

Previously published in The Herald. 

I’m fast coming to the conclusion that I just don’t understand why Granta does what it does. I found their Sex edition to be lacking in sex, their horror edition to be heavily lacking in horror, their Pakistan issue to be just lacking, and now I find myself left cold by their Britain edition. The standard mix of short fiction, non fiction and poetry took me a while to really get into – not because any of it was particularly unfamiliar or badly written, but simply because none of it was arresting enough. One month from now, I will probably be unable to recall in detail even a single piece from this edition. It’s worth mentioning that with each of the above Granta editions, I will, in great clarity, recall their covers – and the same can be said for Granta 119 with its striking cover image of a chipped china tea cup, designed by very British fashion designer Sir Paul Smith. He’s ignored his trademark stripes here, but ensured that the cover is sharp and thought provoking. 

That’s not to say there aren’t any good stories in Granta 119: Britain; as is about usual with Granta, the fiction stands out much more than either the non-fiction or the poetry does (although the Sex edition did feature the great rat-a-tat-tat rhythms of incredible poet Anne Carson). Is each story a direct comment on ‘Britain’? Probably not, but then Granta has never really filled its pages with work related directly to its theme, and there are enough pieces in here that do fulfill the promise of the title. 

Welsh writer Cynan Jones’ story The Dig is about a young boy’s first experience badger baiting with his father and a group of older men. It’s cruel, brutal and tense – and clearly more about the boy’s attempts to connect with his father than about badger baiting. Mark Haddon’s story The Gun focuses on two young boys with a found gun in the woods is a far more taut and arresting piece of writing than his entire recently published new book, The Red House. To add to the quality of the writing, there is something uniquely British about the lifestyles and surroundings of the two boys and their families. Also very British is Adam Foulds Dreams of a Leisure Society – very British in an Irvine Welsh or Guy Ritchie sort of way. There’s drugs, theft, sex, violence and all just ghastly enough to be interesting. 

Granta magazine has been in print in this current form since 1979, claiming to have no literary manifesto, but ‘it does have a belief in the power and urgency of the story, both in fiction and non-fiction, and the story’s supreme ability to describe, illuminate and make real.’ While that seems all good and well in theory, editions like this one make me think that perhaps they do need a literary manifesto if they insist on publishing work thematically. They have published work from many, many critically acclaimed and well respected writers – this goes without saying – but often the work seems forced into a certain context. Fortunately the strength of the stories and the quality of language are enough to enable a connection to the reader.