Life and Letters

George Square, Glasgow
Photograph by Islay McLeod

The other Scotland

Andrew Hook

The Onthank/Unthank version of Kilmarnock/Glasgow has recently been much in the news. Having written here in the past urging BBC Scotland to give primetime viewing to Jonathan Meades's 'Off Kilter' TV programme which provided an equally disturbing and depressing picture of post-industrial Scotland, I am the last person to argue against the accuracy and relevance of 'The Scheme' or Alasdair Gray's compelling vision of a dystopian Scotland. However, with the sun shining, the sky blue, and the trees outside my window at last heavy with the greenest of green leaves, I thought I might share with you a more positive – if no doubt superficial – picture of the former second city of the Empire.
     I have just played host to two groups of American friends: one group from Minneapolis-St Paul in Minnesota, the other from Portland, Oregon. Volcanic ash had conveniently disappeared. Rather than wet and cool, Scotland was proving to be warm and sunny. And for all of them Glasgow was a big hit. Why? Above all they were struck by Glasgow's credentials as a solidly Victorian city.
     Street after street, terrace after terrace, avenues, crescents, squares (with their well-kept gardens), all in broadly uniform style, coherent, orderly, and built to last. I suspect they recognised a contrast with the more random, heterogeneous, transient townscapes of so much of urban and suburban America. Inevitably then all of them admired Glasgow's distinguished public buildings: the City Chambers in George Square, the main building of Glasgow University, the sheer scale of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. And if the museum in itself was not enough, they had an illuminating extra to enjoy: the current Glasgow Boys exhibition. None of the artists were known to them, but they came away bowled over by the range and depth of the work of these Glasgow artists.
     Of course like so many other Glasgow visitors, they arrived fully aware of at least one major Glasgow artist: Charles Rennie Mackintosh. He did not disappoint them. The Hunter Gallery in the university, the Glasgow School of Art, and the astonishing House of an Art Lover in Bellahouston Park, all produced X Factor moments. (I did make a point of underlining the irony that while Glasgow's cultural reputation seems now often to piggyback on Mackintosh, during his lifetime the city conspicuously failed to provide him with sufficient commissions to make it possible for him to go on living and working here.)
     
What else was appreciated? Ashton Lane at night, the People's Palace, the on-off city bus tour, the Glasgow Underground, and local train services. We forget how rare it is for many Americans – outside cities such as New York or Chicago – to travel anywhere by anything other than their own cars. Tellingly one of my visitors mentioned how close by one of her friends lived: only 20 minutes by car.
     Then there was eating out in the West End. We explored a range of locations – and of prices. And whether by good fortune or not, every restaurant came up trumps. Persian lamb chops, haggis, Stornoway black pudding – not to mention east coast and west coast malts and their difference – went down especially well. It was striking just how busy all these restaurants were. Recession? Credit crunch? We had talked a lot about both. Where were they now?
     And then there were the people they met. I'm happy to say that we Glaswegians lived up to the best of our stereotypes: friendly, talkative, helpful and welcoming. (Even more so than the Irish with whom some of my visitors were more familiar.) Among all these positives were there any negatives? I can pinpoint only two.
     In lengthy talks over Glasgow's major problems with unemployment, incapacity benefit, health and longevity statistics, alcoholism, drug abuse, sectarianism etc – and insisting that the West End was not necessarily typical of much of the city – I had not forgotten to mention deep-fried Mars bars and Buckfast wine. Around lunchtime one day in Balloch, about to tour Loch Lomond, some of my friends encountered three teenage boys, unpleasantly loud and aggressive, already high on their iconic Buckfast.
     The second disappointment? No doubt to the dismay of some readers, it was the Gallery of Modern Art in Royal Exchange Square. Not of course the building which they greatly admired. But its contents. Not nearly up to the standard of the building, they reported.
     However it would be inappropriate to end on a negative note. For one of my friends at least, Glasgow had one more distinctive treat to offer: the Western Necropolis. A student of cemeteries everywhere, Jim found the Western grand beyond compare. Glasgow's merchants, ministers, soldiers, writers, administrators, professors, ironmasters, shipbuilders, engineers, monumentally memorialised, look down from their lofty resting place on the city splendidly spread out below them. Perhaps Jim is right. The Western Necropolis is a key to the Glasgow story. What I'm sure of is that in days to come my visitors from St Paul and Portland will remember the pages they've been reading.

Andrew Hook is a former professor of English literature at
Glasgow University