Alasdair Gray: The Mad Genius of Scottish Literature

Have you ever read a book so strange, so wild, that you had to stop, reread a sentence, and ask yourself, “Wait… what did I just experience?” That’s exactly what it’s like diving into the world of Alasdair Gray. If you’re not familiar with him, don’t worry—you’re not alone. But trust me, once you discover his work, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.

I still remember the first time I stumbled upon Lanark. It was one of those cold, rainy Saturdays in Glasgow, the kind where the sky looks like an old dishcloth and the wind cuts right through you. I ducked into a second-hand bookshop to warm up, and there it was: a thick, slightly battered copy with its eerie cover art staring back at me. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Who Was Alasdair Gray?

If I had to sum him up in a sentence, I’d say Alasdair Gray was Scotland’s literary mad scientist. He wasn’t just a writer—he was a painter, a muralist, a political firebrand, and, let’s be honest, a bit of an eccentric. Born in 1934 in Glasgow, he spent most of his life capturing the city’s spirit in ways no one else could. His books don’t just tell stories; they explode with life, art, and a bit of rebellious mischief.

Gray’s work is often compared to the likes of George Orwell or Franz Kafka, but honestly, that doesn’t do him justice. His writing is deeply rooted in Scotland, yet wildly experimental—full of strange timelines, footnotes, and even illustrations (all done by himself, of course). He wasn’t just creating books; he was crafting entire worlds.

The Magic of Lanark

Let’s talk about Lanark, his most famous novel. Calling it a “novel” feels almost wrong—it’s more of a chaotic masterpiece. Imagine if a classic coming-of-age story had a head-on collision with a dystopian nightmare, and then threw in a bit of surrealist fever dream for good measure. That’s Lanark.

It’s split into four books, but here’s the kicker: they’re out of order. The novel starts in a bizarre, dying city called Unthank, then jumps to a semi-autobiographical story of a young man in Glasgow, then back to Unthank. Confused? Good. That’s part of the fun. Gray was never one to hold your hand through a story.

One of my favorite things about Lanark is how it plays with reality. One moment you’re deep in a painfully relatable coming-of-age story, then suddenly, boom—you’re in a dystopian world where people turn into literal dragons if they bottle up their emotions too long. And somehow, it all makes perfect sense. Well, kind of.

More Than Just Lanark

While Lanark gets most of the spotlight, Gray’s other works are just as fascinating. 1982, Janine is a dark, introspective novel about a man’s midlife crisis, filled with typographical experiments that make the words themselves feel alive. Poor Things—which won the Whitbread Novel Award and was recently adapted into a film—is a playful reimagining of Frankenstein, set in Victorian Scotland. It’s weird, it’s funny, it’s deeply political. Classic Gray.

And then there’s his art. If you’ve ever wandered into a pub or café in Glasgow and been struck by some surreal, intricate mural, there’s a good chance it was Gray’s work. His murals are scattered across the city like hidden treasures, from the Oran Mor to Hillhead Subway Station. Even if you’ve never read a word he wrote, you can still experience his vision through his paintings.

Why You Should Read Him

Look, I get it. Gray’s work isn’t always the easiest to dive into. He bends the rules of storytelling, plays with form, and sometimes throws in a political rant or two for good measure. But that’s exactly what makes him so brilliant. His books are alive, bursting with humor, heartbreak, and a deep, unshakable love for Scotland and its people.

And honestly? We need more writers like him—writers who take risks, who challenge the way we think about literature, who remind us that books don’t have to follow the rules.

So, if you’re up for an adventure, grab a copy of Lanark (or Poor Things if you want to ease in). Read a few pages, get lost, get confused, and then get absolutely hooked. And if you do, let me know—I’d love to hear what you think.

Have you read Alasdair Gray before? What’s your favorite book of his? Let’s chat in the comments!