Bibliophobia

IF there's one thing likely to put even the most devoted bibliophile off books, it's prolonged exposure to them. You don't have to take my word for it. Take George Orwell's. "Seen in the mass, five or 10,000 at a time, books were boring and even slightly sickening," Orwell wrote in Bookshop Memories, an essay recounting his uncherished days toiling in a second-hand bookshop in Hampstead.

Louise Welsh, Canongate's newest author and, until 1999, owner of an antiquarian bookshop, would not put her thoughts about the book trade as forcefully as Orwell but does admit to feeling, at times, a little overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of scribblers gone before her. Like Orwell, she wondered whether there was room enough for her among their ranks and, like Orwell, was readying herself to transform her experiences peddling books into a volume of her own. But where Orwell produced a satiric self-portrait in Keep The Aspidistra Flying, Welsh concocted something a bit darker.

Welsh's assured debut, The Cutting Room, centres on Rilke, a gay Glaswegian auctioneer who, while clearing out a recently deceased pensioner's Hyndland house, sniffs out a stash of what may or may not be post-war snuff pornography. His quest to discover the origin of the photographs forms the plot's spine. In the line of duty, Welsh herself frequently journeyed to stranger's homes to value their book collections.

"Mostly they were selling because they were moving but there were a significant number of sales due to the occupant dying." Ever find anything, uh, incriminating? "No snuff photographs, but there were always one or two dirty books. Everybody has one or two rude books, don't they?"

I look into my drink, while Welsh continues. "Hidden behind bookcases, you'd find naughty photo books featuring girls in leather gear wrestling with each other. In the shop, they were very popular with students. The books themselves didn't embarrass me; what was embarrassing was if you came across something smutty in the presence of a relative who didn't know their dad or uncle liked that sort of thing."

Rilke is an interesting creation, one whose motivations the reader - as well as the other characters within the novel - is never quite sure of. Promiscuous, prone to violence, and business-wise, Rilke's moral boundaries are hazy. In a time when it's not unusual for book critics to dismiss a book because the characters are "unlikeable", wasn't Welsh taking a risk building her debut around someone as saturnine as Rilke?

"It's really funny but I think Rilke's nice. You're not the first person to have mentioned this to me. I don't know if Rilke does anything morally wrong. He has gay sex, but it's always consensual. He does behave violently but only under provocation." Welsh laughs at that.

Rilke's voice began to make itself heard around 1999 in a number of Welsh's early short stories. The temptation with many writers is to assume lead characters are veiled versions of themselves, but it's hard to see what Welsh, who is short and lively, gifted of herself to the tall, cadaverous-looking Rilke. Beyond a shared sense of humour, there doesn't appear to be that much character-creator overlap. Perhaps this, in part, explains how Welsh circumvented the critisicm, that male writers can't "do" female characters and vice versa.

"Some men write extremely well as women; Roddy Doyle with The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, for example," Welsh says, citing her own example of an author whose finesse side-stepped the pratfalls of literary cross-dressing. And her own preparation? "I didn't have to don trousers and a moustache. I didn't sneak into the gents toilets. Maybe it's because I've been involved in the world of bookselling. A lot of women are involved in bookselling, but it's still a male- dominated world."

The explicit sex scenes were also compiled without having to ask a lot of indelicate questions. "No, I just made it up. Imagine if I invited gay friends round for dinner and told them before they could have their first course, they have to tell me what they do in bed.

"I liked the character and felt Rilke should have some sex. In Britain it often seems that it's OK to be gay - just as long as you don't have sex. The attitude is be a funny gay, or go away." The reaction, so far, from gay men has been encouraging. There's only been one reservation so far. "I did an interview with a guy from a gay magazine who liked the book, but didn't like the fact that I said Glasgow's Lesbian and Gay Centre could do with a lick of paint."

Perhaps it's not so surprising that Welsh should move into the world of books - one of her earliest memories is of her father reading Treasure Island to her. Much like Jim Hawkins, the young Welsh would soon be globetrotting. Her father's job with the RAF took the family from Edinburgh to London to Singapore, which she doesn't remember much of today beyond "snapshots".

After a few more stops, Welsh returned to Edinburgh in time to start her secondary education there, before packing up for Glasgow University, from which she graduated four years later with a history degree. After some time working in an office, which wasn't for her, but with a paucity of other jobs on offer, Welsh took a bold step. She opened her own second- hand bookshop.

"Through people I knew I discovered some space was becoming available just off Byres Road. I began by buying books at jumble sales, and through a gradual process, was able to fill the shop." Alasdair Gray ("so nice") and Bernard MacLaverty ("always pleasant") were regulars. She'd buy all sorts except - oh irony - first-time novelists. "No track record." Part of the initial appeal of working with books was that it brought her closer to the world of literature. But after seven years Welsh was feeling some of Orwell's bibliophobia.

"I'd run the shop for seven years and I felt I'd got as far as I could with it. I began to ask myself if this was really something I wanted to do until I was 60. By that point, I had begun to write more seriously and the shop was taking up too much time. In the early years, it was exciting as I was finding out so much, but once I'd learned how to do it, some of the appeal went, especially as I was working 12-hour days."

The turning point came when a friend insisted Welsh enroll for Strathclyde and Glasgow universities' MLit course in creative writing. Initial misgivings soon crumbled.

"The workshops were so valuable in the way they gave you confidence to experiment with new, unfamiliar voices. The tutors were great at identifying what was wrong with your work, and what was right, which is one of the hardest things to do when you're writing by yourself.

"That the tutors had spent so much time examining what you'd written made me want to work harder than I had before. The course gave me permission to write, which sounds stupid, but when you start writing there's always the fear you're going to make an idiot of yourself.

"After the course, I just went for it."

After meeting Canongate's editor at a party, Welsh sent her the first third of The Cutting Room. It was accepted, and with an advance from her new publishers and an SAC grant, Welsh had enough to survive on until the book was finished.

Another stroke of luck landed in Welsh's lap when The Guardian, looking to champion this year's five best debut novelists, chose her alongside Hari Kunzru's loudly touted The Impressionist.

"Off the back of it, people who might not have noticed the book have. The Observer sent me to Berlin to report on the cabaret scene there. The naked ballet was something else."

In between glamorous assignments, Welsh is working on a humorous new novel "based around the cinema" and teaching various classes at Anniesland College and Glasgow University, including one for visually impaired writers and another, appropriately, on Gothic literature.

She also hints that The Cutting Room might not be the last we've seen of Rilke. The future looks as good as, well, a naked ballet dancer.

Now, what would Orwell have made of that?

The Cutting Room is published by Canongate, (pounds) 10.99. Louise Welsh will be appearing, alongside Laura Hird and Alan Bissett, at the Edinburgh International Book Festival on Thursday on August 22 Name: Louise Welsh Born: 1967, Edinburgh First-time novelist Louise Welsh attended Edinburgh's Craigmount High School, before studying history at Glasgow University. Until enrolling in Glasgow/ Strathclyde University's Creative Writing MLit, Welsh ran Dowanside Books in Glasgow's West End.

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