Amanda Drummond: A third co-worker of Bruce's, and the only one who openly disapproves of his behaviour and lifestyle. Too many trigger warnings to list. This book is one long trigger warning, from beginning to end. You know it’s Irvine Welsh. You know what you’ll be in for. You don’t need to be warned. You proceed at your own risk.

Imagine the best thing you’ve ever done; imagine the most energy you’ve ever expended; imagine the ultimate expression of your greatest skill: now multiply that by a one hundred and it’s a good bet you still won’t even come close to the level of Tam Dean Burn’s performance in Filth. Reading this is like fast forwarding on a nightmare where the same elements keep repeating and everything spirals out of control slowly. Bruce hates everything and everyone and his only joy left is making people's live hell around him with perfectly planned scheming. Most if not all of his thoughts are racist, misogynistic,homophobic, hateful, angry and nihilistic. At a certain point the only sound of reason is the tapeworm inside him. But Robbo has big plans. Get this mysterious rash under control, stop the itch in his nether regions that causes him to scratch til he bleeds, and head off to Amsterdam for his yearly holiday. A week relaxing at his favourite red light district. Alex "Lexo" Setterington – Bruce references the violent rape that Lexo and his gang of football hooligans committed in Marabou Stork Nightmares. Robertson, like Hibs, is on the way down. Drink is his chief way of keeping the demon worm at bay, as if he were trying to drown it in whisky. His wife has left him, and he seeks solace with other women. Anything in a skirt will do. He prefers anal sex, and it's probably just as well given the state his genitals are in. You'd need to be blind or unbelievably desperate to have sex with this degree of eczema. With Christmas creeping slowly toward him, his loneliness drives him to listen to Deep Purple and Phil Collins Dire Straits is what he should be listening to.

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Despite the drugs, meaningless affairs, betrayals and tortures 'Filth' is actually very funny. Irvine Welsh has a flair for dialogue that cuts to the bone and a writing style that engrosses the reader. Forthright and unabashed in it's overtly controversial opinions, it stands out like the best stand up comedian. Daring to be dark, disgusting, and horrible; saying and doing things so that the reader (or any well adjusted member of society) does not have to. The book is disgusting in every imaginable way, but it somehow keeps you going. Even though the situations he puts himself into are a bit on the surreal side, the main character himself is actually a quite realistic human asshole and very few times falls under the caricaturized version of evil. Robert Toal: Bruce's workplace superior; held in contempt by Bruce, who nevertheless must attempt to curry his favour to win a promotion. And in all honesty, how do we expect frontline workers (coppers/ firies/ ambos/ nurses and all the others) to not be a little off kilter with all they have to deal with daily. From the stuff we dish out. Bruce Robertson is one of the most appalling characters I’ve read in a novel. And it’s the only word I could think to describe him when discussing this book with Bill, who I buddy read this with (*waves*). In fact, I think I wore out the word, as I used it that often. He’s a bully, he’s objectionable, he treats friends and foe with the same layer of disdain and contempt. He’s always playing “the game”.

Irvine Welsh remek író, és bár nem minden könyvét, azért sokat elolvastam: egyik-másik kiemelkedett, a Trainspotting, a rövid történetek, de voltak laposabb járatok is. A Filth nem az, valójában nem is számítottam rá hogy ennyire behúz egy szöveg – azt hihettem, hogy a javán már rég túlvagyok, és nem ér el hozzám igazán mélyre ez az írói eszköztár: a hihetetlen durvaság, a mindennapi hiperrealizmus, amit módszeresen kegyetlen pszichológiai hitelességgel tol az arcodba, gondoltam, sokkolódik a fene, de rámfér egy kis lazulás. Aztán szétestem, mint a főhős. First off, the elephant in the room. Filth is maximally offensive in just about every way possible, and it is not for the faint of heart. It's a great book, but I could see the content being a deal breaker for many people. I honestly believe Welsh wrote the book like this to describe "the cycle of abuse" as vividly as possible. It's not unfair to say the amount and severity of offensive content was overkill, BUT it you have the intestinal fortitude to soldier through to the end, it works, and it's worth it. Maybe this is a statement in itself about human nature when faced with atrocities over which we have no control, like the heavy descriptive prose in American Psycho, but like AP, the point had been made quite a while before anything came of it.Clifford Blades: Registrar General for Scotland's Office, a member of Bruce's masonic lodge; a neurotic, insecure man, Clifford's marriage problems form one of the novel's major subplots. I loved this book, and I will read more from Welsh once my nerves settle down. My buddy reader and I were both a little out-of-sorts after finishing, the ending is jaw dropping. I won't recommend this to anyone, especially kids. If you ever see an underage person reading this, take the book away from them, and sent them to bed without their dinner. Read at your own risk. Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.

In the hands of a lesser actor Welsh’s story could easily spiral out of control. The mirror balls and talking tapeworms, the masturbation and nudity, the ultra violence and disturbing revelations could overwhelm us with hopelessness. But Tam Dean Burn keeps us with him all the way. He makes us believe in the struggling core of Robertson’s goodness, and he shows us that hope can come from even the most tragic events. At a certain point in the book, the narrative starts to be interrupted by a tube-like structure that appears on top of the text, and at first is only made of the word "eat" being repeated amid the zeros that fill the empty space within the tube. It is later revealed that this is actually the thoughts of the tapeworm growing inside Bruce's intestines. Filth is a 1998 novel by Scottish writer Irvine Welsh. A sequel, Crime, was published in 2008. [1] It was adapted into a 2013 film of the same name, directed by Jon S. Baird with James McAvoy in the lead role.

A suspenseful, professional-grade north country procedural whose heroine, a deft mix of compassion and attitude, would be welcome to return and tie up the gaping loose end Box leaves. The unrelenting cold makes this the perfect beach read. Bruce Robertson: The novel's protagonist and anti-hero, Bruce Robertson is an amoral, Machiavellian, misanthropic, racist, sexist, psychopathic Detective Sergeant. It took me a while and a few conversations with my bestest book buddy Nat K to organize my thoughts, and figure out what to even say in a review of filth. The true meaning of "filth". This was not a joke anymore. The final chapters of the book took on a seriousness that was difficult to deal with, and incongruous to the warped speed the rest of the book drove at. I cannot stress enough how much the ending shook me. It left me NUMB. And I mean, the caring up until you’re actually crying, that’s no small feat of Mr. Welsh here. Those final chapters were simply amazing.