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Whenever I go to the library, trying to find something to read, I often end up frustrated. Call me picky if you want. Yet as I’m going through the blurbs (nowadays even they are buried beneath the asinine, useless “INSTANT BESTSELLER!” tags), what I see is more and more authors overly enamored with plot. I decided to write this review of The Glasgow Coma Scale by Neil D.A. Stewart before I’d read ten pages of it.

The reason?

Because it at least didn’t try to reinvent the wheel. The blurb didn’t promise some sort of epic saga spanning three continents and six decades, or some sort of in-between state between fantasy and reality.

As it turned out, it was actually a damn well-written book to boot. Truly, a masterclass on what quality literature should be.

Review of The Glasgow Coma Scale: Genre, Plot, Narrative

Though literary fiction comes in many shapes and forms – that’s the whole point, in a way – The Glasgow Coma Scale is a very typical specimen. It displays ambiguity, depth, character complexity, it’s linguistically self-aware (another way of saying: it’s not scared of painting outside the lines), and above all, it approaches plot almost as a necessary evil.

Indeed, the plot is phenomenally simple in its conception. Lynne, a woman who’s emotionally vulnerable after the end of a relationship, sees her old art teacher, Angus, living as a homeless person in the streets of Glasgow. She invites him into her house, and a peculiar symbiosis begins – with constantly changing dynamics.

The Plurality of Themes

There are many themes one can detect in Stewart’s novel – another sign of a good literary fiction work – and they are all developed in a framework of balance and respect. That is to say, there is cohesion among the various themes the novel explores, which helps reinforce them all.

From the fine line separating charity and selfishness to solitude and giving up on dating, and from relationship dynamics and “owning” a person to our inability to make sense of our emotions, there is a holistic examination of humanity in The Glasgow Coma Scale that makes perfect sense.

Of course – and, again, as any self-respecting work of literary fiction would display – meta- references couldn’t be absent. When Angus – the fallen art teacher – talks about similarity and conformity, supporting yourself with your art, and creativity, there is a lot lurking under the surface. It plain terms, it’s beyond obvious that such references escape the confines of the novel as a story and approach it as a novel in itself.

What is a novel? A way of interrogating one’s experience.

Review of The Glasgow Coma Scale: Characters

There are basically only two characters in the novel, Angus and Lynne.

Yes, of course there are a few other characters who receive “screen time” and dialogue, but they are fairly peripheral. It almost comes across as a literary device that one of the most important such characters – Lynne’s now ex-boyfriend – doesn’t appear at all, though his actions and words seem to have an immense impact on Lynne.

Overall, Lynne and Angus are both intricate, complex, realistic, and highly suitable characters for a literary-fiction narrative. They exist in a sort-of-symbiotic relationship, feedling off each other’s emotional vulnerabilities, being at the same time supportive and opposing, damaging and reassuring. In this dynamic (im)balance, the experienced reader will also begin to wonder:

Who is the protagonist and who is the antagonist here?

Of course, the same experienced reader will already realize what the answer is: It’s a matter of perspective – it always is. If you identify with Lynne, she is the protagonist with Angus frustrating her efforts. Similarly, if you follow the story from his perspective, you will notice how Lynne prevents him from reaching his narrative goal.

Which is?

Unclear Goals as a Narrative Choice

That’s one of the problems of the narrative (also echoing in the narrative ending, as you’ll read below). From Lynne’s point of view, it’s easier for the reader to see a narrative goal: settle her emotional baggage – also affecting her professional outlook. For Angus, however, this isn’t as clear – which also makes Lynne’s narrative antagonism harder to discern.

Nonetheless, this also can exist as a narrative choice; a literary device, if you will. As a homeless person, an artist and art teacher who fell from grace, what sort of goals could you have? That Angus seems to exist from one day to the next, from one drink (or avoidance of) to the other, doesn’t seem surprising. If anything, his later tendency to rediscover his lost artistic spark occasionally appears a tiny bit unrealistic, forced even. The narrative does accommodate it (that is to say, it justifies it), but only barely.

Review of The Glasgow Coma Scale: General Impression

As I’m writing this review, The Glasgow Coma Scale holds a rating of 2.68 on Goodreads. If I had seen this before picking the book from the library, I’d be even more encouraged. Past experience – for instance, check my review of The Irresistible Inheritance Of Wilberforce – has shown me that the lower the rating of a book on a platform as drenched in mediocrity as Goodreads, the higher the chance I’ll like it.

Indeed, when you read some of the “reviews” (people don’t know how to review) there, you might discover why. There are those who gave the book 1-star ratings because they disliked that Lynne didn’t believe in herself.

Yes, it’s as stupid as it sounds.

Liking or disliking a book is an entirely personal, subjective assessment; there is no right or wrong. But there is more objectivity in being able to understand what a book is and isn’t, and whether it holds literary merit.

And The Glasgow Coma Scale certainly holds literary merit.

A Problematic Ending

It certainly has its flaws. In purely narrative terms, the ending could’ve been a bit more literary; more ambiguous, more peculiar, more – dare I say – menacing.

On the other hand, I sympathize with the author. This isn’t an easy book to finish, because of its setup. Inevitability is important, and Stewart should be praised for exercising restraint in picking an ending that is, mostly, inevitable.

Ultimately, this is a book that is probably difficult to like – as Goodreads reviews prove – but those who will like it will really like it. It’s also one of those books that, mercifully, reveal their colors right away. In other words, if you read 10 pages and you enjoy the style and the overall progression, it’s fairly guaranteed you’ll like the rest of it, too. If reaching page 10 you begin to wonder “where is this going?” then you should give up on it.