Boy Who Made It Rain
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Recommended age 16+. When a school tragedy happens, you may lay the blame on society, the Internet, TV or violent films. Not many of you think it could be the parents' or teachers' fault, do you? But then, is it? We have our say, spout off opinions in different directions according to our view of the world. In this novel, too, they all have their say, but who's right? At only sixteen Clem's world is turned upside down. His Willy-Loman-like father, a travelling salesman and a loser, is transferred from Eastbourne to Glasgow and along with him go Clem and his meek accommodating mother. But Glasgow is rough and Clem's posh English accent is not well-accepted in the sink school he attends. And he's a brilliant scholar. He soon becomes the target for McEvoy's group of thugs for whom slashing faces is the most important ambition in their depraved lives. When a school tragedy happens, you probably lay the blame on society, the Internet, TV or violent films. Not many of you think it could be the parents' or the teachers' fault, do you? But then, is it? We all have our say, spout off opinions in different directions according to our view of the world. In this novel, too, they all have their say, but who's right?
the community and were well liked. They weren’t philanthropic or anything of that nature, my belief is that they were charitable with their time. My opinion of them was that they were decent, honest folk. I think it is practically impossible to evade gossip mongering after the event. On the other hand, it is natural to speculate and feast on a diet of conjecture when something like this occurs. What I do not concur with is fabrication and untruths. For my own part I have taken a vow of silence
a school. Tongues wagged. But I have seen events of this nature play themselves out before. This could have been the catalyst for the boy’s problems with his peers. And, let’s be honest, the subsequent event. As head of department, I had to approach the issue with prudence. It was no time for charging in like a gang of disgruntled NEDs. There were no facts on the table and without facts hearsay doesn’t help us advance things. I had an inclination, but like everyone else I heard it through the
an art shop in town, at first I was going to give it to Clem as a wee ‘welcome to Glasgow’ present but I just kept it for myself. He could stick to his bands. It would have been inappropriate to give him a calendar of a Spanish artist as a welcome to Glasgow anyway. And there was no way I was giving him a Jack Vettriano. He’s dire. So I’m standing there like a lemon in the middle of this big empty art room waiting for the god of art to come and scud me full force on the face. There wasn’t a soul
in the knowledge that everyone is suffering. Ground-breaking work. They’ll conclude that everyone has to take respon-sibility for their own actions, that those involved are to share the blame; even the maltreated innocents, who have regularly had the daylights kicked out of them, are culpable. Liberal bullshit, which only functions in exonerating the tyrant. Restorative justice? No thanks). 4. Confront the scum. (A distinct possibility that could go one of both ways. Anyone of a nervous
either. I found him to be a young chap full of wanderlust and inquisitiveness. I can recall a conversation we had about the impending scene in which I openly encouraged him to approach his new life in Glasgow as a kind of anthropological adventure. I strived to remove any notion of trepidation he had in his mind. I saw this counselling, if you would like to refer to it as such, as an integral part of my position. I suppose in many ways I failed in that respect. I have subsequently cursed my