The best books to give you a contact high

When I moved to Scotland for my postgrad year studying writing at the University of Edinburgh, the apartment I rented had one book in it – this collection of short stories, set in the same city.

I was pretty sure Trainspotting was the best novel I’d ever read, but I wasn’t aware of this collection of three works of Irvine Welsh’s short fiction. My first night in the apartment, I sat on the one chair and read the one book. And what a buzz!

I loved the mix of grittiness, euphoria, and dark-as-night humour. The focus on club drugs was more relatable than the heroin culture of Trainspotting (although to my delight, Spud Murphy makes a cameo appearance – twice!). 

What I loved most about Night Boat to Tangier is the same thing I love about all of Kevin Barry’s books – the delivery.

Whether it’s City of Bohane, The Heart in Winter, Beatlebone, or this book, the best part of a Kevin Barry novel is always the writing and the voice. The story is almost secondary.

You might expect the story of a seasoned drug importer reuniting with his estranged daughter to be a spectacle, but what I loved about this book was the way many of the tendrils of the story were allowed to uncurl slowly, and some not at all.

I like to imagine Kevin Barry was at the ferry station one day and looked at a couple of aging, shaved-head, tattooed Irish thugs leaning against a wall waiting, and asked, “What’s their story?” Then he wrote it. 

What I love about this short story collection by a true master of the writing craft is how psychedelic it is, without any actual references to drugs or counterculture.

Every story is a mind-bending trip delivered straight to the dome through innovative language and upended logic. I love the rabbit holes Borges sends his readers down, like the first story’s development of an entire other human civilization through the discovery of its never-ending encyclopedia.

The title Labyrinths is so fitting – reading these stories is like making your way through a literary maze with psychic surprises and twists around every turn of the page. 

Early in this book, a character uses his kitchen oven to dry out some psychedelic mushrooms harvested from the rooftop garden at his flat in World War II London. Dosing the characters (and somehow the reader) with Amanita Muscaria is an appropriate way to set the tone of this book.

Mushroom experiences are fun and giggly and clever, at times, but they can also open the mind to the evils mankind is capable of and the intricate conspiracies seemingly hiding in plain sight. Which is what I love about Gravity’s Rainbow – Pynchon’s writing is hilarious, but then he’ll hit you with a gut punch so poignant it will linger in your mind for decades. 

I imagine just being in the same room as Shane MacGowan would have given me a contact high, and that’s the effect this book had on me.

It’s a series of conversations (one imagines over many, many drinks) with the woman who was his longtime partner and who would become his eventual wife, writer Victoria Mary Clarke.

Besides the absolutely unbelievable stories from this genius of Irish music’s childhood (which I loved), some of the best parts of the book are when Victoria is trying to get into his head around his unparalleled levels of drug and alcohol consumption. When he tells her he started drinking at 5, standing on the kitchen table and singing for bottles of stout, it’s understandable.

I loved hearing the real stories behind his public, on-stage persona, which were as real, drunk, and gritty as his music and voice.