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Bill Thompson #2
Journeyman
'For reasons I'm ashamed of now, I was living in Montreal in the spring of 1967.' Bill Thompson is hiding out in scruffy digs on the city's lower east side, a refugee from his own father and his father's ambitions for him. He meets Glaswegian Hugh Gillespie. From completely different backgrounds, yet they grow close. Hugh, pursuer rather than pursued, is seeking out a long vanished childhood friend. Both sense that their lives are at a turning point. Against the blare and glare of Montreal's Expo 67 - the World Fair - optimism, idealism and wishful thinking are shown up and reduced down in the harsh light of reality.
175 pages, Hardcover
First published June 7, 1984
About the author
Tom Gallacher
11 books4 followersTom Gallagher was is a Scottish journalist, playwright and novelist. After his schooling he trained as a draughtsman and worked at Denny’s Shipyard in Dumbarton (an experience that was to provide him with the source material for his work The Apprentice (1983).
Ultimately, however, Gallagher was more influenced by his mother’s love of language and the spoken word, and began a new career as a journalist - starting work at the Helensburgh Advertiser. Whilst writing professionally and locally, he also wrote a series of articles for the County Reporter which were later published under the title Hunting Shadows.
During his time as a producer with the Dumbarton People’s Theatre, Gallacher discovered that he had a talent for writing plays. In the 1950’s he successfully produced several productions including Harvey, The Glass Menagerie, The Wind and the Rain and A Man for All Seasons. His love of the theatre and his passion for words led him becoming a full time playwright, settling in London for four years before returning to Garelochhead.
Gallagher also wrote for television and was a great proponent for the arts. He was a founding member of The Scottish Society of Playwrights at the Netherbow Theatre; established in response to a need for a co-ordinated voice for playwrights to be heard in Scottish theatre and to act as a playwriting development and promotional agency.
Ultimately, however, Gallagher was more influenced by his mother’s love of language and the spoken word, and began a new career as a journalist - starting work at the Helensburgh Advertiser. Whilst writing professionally and locally, he also wrote a series of articles for the County Reporter which were later published under the title Hunting Shadows.
During his time as a producer with the Dumbarton People’s Theatre, Gallacher discovered that he had a talent for writing plays. In the 1950’s he successfully produced several productions including Harvey, The Glass Menagerie, The Wind and the Rain and A Man for All Seasons. His love of the theatre and his passion for words led him becoming a full time playwright, settling in London for four years before returning to Garelochhead.
Gallagher also wrote for television and was a great proponent for the arts. He was a founding member of The Scottish Society of Playwrights at the Netherbow Theatre; established in response to a need for a co-ordinated voice for playwrights to be heard in Scottish theatre and to act as a playwriting development and promotional agency.
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Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 review
July 19, 2022
Darn I think I separated the first two books in a trilogy on accident. The first one sits back in the Voltaire and Rousseau secondhand book shop.
I don’t know why I thought an older Glaswegian author, even if they have more than one published work, would be competition for Alasdair Gray. This is a fictive novel like any other.
It’s read like a lame school english book. Something a Glaswegian teacher would pick out for their Glaswegian class for some reason.
I wish it was the simple experimental concept of the protagonist trying to write a novel adapting the events taking place around him. It would add so much more to hold onto. To think about. To consider “how’s this going to be used in his book?”
It’s a long winded novel. It wouldn’t even work as a short story though I haven’t read the ending yet. And I’d it wouldn’t work abridged what was the point. It is the case where the more active secondary character is more interesting. Is a better main character of his own story. This Bill guy adds an incredibly weak presence that adds little depth to Hugh’s story only that he reminds Hugh of Sam. (This is a shitty ‘On the Road’ narrative.)
The way this man who’s supposed to be interested in characters, in people describes everyone how any author should. It’d be more interesting if they were cartoonish. Playing with form, with what literature can be, by exaggerating things. Not in a detail oriented way, but if one detail was extrapolated beyond possibility and comprehension.
The last page had me roll my eyes into a facepalm… lol. It was not too cringey, my reaction, I mean. It might’ve been an excusable ten page short, only mundane as fuck.
Quite infuriating.
I don’t know why I thought an older Glaswegian author, even if they have more than one published work, would be competition for Alasdair Gray. This is a fictive novel like any other.
It’s read like a lame school english book. Something a Glaswegian teacher would pick out for their Glaswegian class for some reason.
I wish it was the simple experimental concept of the protagonist trying to write a novel adapting the events taking place around him. It would add so much more to hold onto. To think about. To consider “how’s this going to be used in his book?”
It’s a long winded novel. It wouldn’t even work as a short story though I haven’t read the ending yet. And I’d it wouldn’t work abridged what was the point. It is the case where the more active secondary character is more interesting. Is a better main character of his own story. This Bill guy adds an incredibly weak presence that adds little depth to Hugh’s story only that he reminds Hugh of Sam. (This is a shitty ‘On the Road’ narrative.)
The way this man who’s supposed to be interested in characters, in people describes everyone how any author should. It’d be more interesting if they were cartoonish. Playing with form, with what literature can be, by exaggerating things. Not in a detail oriented way, but if one detail was extrapolated beyond possibility and comprehension.
The last page had me roll my eyes into a facepalm… lol. It was not too cringey, my reaction, I mean. It might’ve been an excusable ten page short, only mundane as fuck.
Quite infuriating.
Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 review