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Alasdair Gray’s literary socialism

The master of improper arts talks Jane Austen, the NHS, and why he's losing faith in an independent Scotland

Alasdair Gray in front of a mural at Oran Mor. Image: Murdo MacLeod ©

Alasdair Gray is out of the good whisky. We are in his kitchen in the ground floor flat of a pretty Glasgow tenement not far from the Byres Road. He is sat in his wheelchair; I am going through his cupboards. “You’re out of the Tallisker, Alasdair.” I tell him. “Is Bells okay?” It is. He has me fetch him a mug and add a little water, then takes the bottle to pour the whisky himself. Clearly, he suspects my measures would be insufficiently generous.


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