It was a reminder that the future of children’s fiction lies not just in big ideas, but in the pulse of regional voices, stories told in our own tongue, rooted in place and people.
McDonald’s novel does exactly that. It is both tender and raw, steeped in Scots dialect, wrestling with the myths of masculinity, brotherhood and belonging. Banjo’s voice catches you from the very first pages, and you just want to keep turning.
Roots in the vernacular
Glasgow Boys doesn’t tiptoe around its linguistic heritage. From the very first paragraph, you can hear the characters breathing in the grit and lyricism of Glasgow’s streets. That choice matters. It honours the community the book springs from, and it challenges the assumption that conventional children’s fiction needs to be in “standard” English. It sets a precedent for future writers to establish their own voices.
Masculinity, but redefined
At its heart are two young boys on the cusp of change – Banjo and his friend Kev. They grapple not just with school and family, but with the version of masculinity foisted upon them by tradition. McDonald avoids cliché; she shows us tenderness in seemingly hardened souls, explores emotional intimacy, and captures the awkwardness of young love. In doing so, the novel suggests that masculinity can be caring, curious and open.
Care, community and belonging
One of the book’s most resonant qualities is its portrayal of care. Whether it’s siblings, friends, or unexpected alliances formed in hardship, the ways characters support one another feel lived-in. Banjo’s relationship with his sister, and the quiet strength of Kev’s gran, offer powerful examples. In a world that can feel increasingly fragmented, Glasgow Boys reminds us that care isn’t accidental. In McDonald’s world, it is deliberate, often unspoken, and deeply political.
Why it matters now
We are living through a moment where regional voices in fiction are gaining recognition – from Tate Hanley’s use of Sheffield dialect to Alex Wheatle’s London-set narratives. Yet Scots literature is still underrepresented in mainstream spaces. McDonald’s win signals a turning point, one that could reenergise teachers, librarians and writers to explore voices from Scotland’s heartlands on stage and page.
I was recommended this book and read it very quickly. It is a easy read. You glide through the pages. The best kind of reading. Thoroughly recommend it.
A Line from Shuggie Bain to Banjo
McDonald’s use of Scots places Glasgow Boys in conversation with other major literary works that celebrate the vernacular, most notably Douglas Stuart’s Shuggie Bain. Both novels centre on working-class Scottish lives, told with a fierce intimacy and lyrical grit. But while Shuggie Bain casts its gaze back through the lens of adult reflection, Glasgow Boys stays rooted in the immediacy of youth – its anger, tenderness and restlessness. Banjo doesn’t analyse his world from a distance. He lives it, moment to moment, in language that feels both defiant and deeply human.
From Trainspotting to Today
And of course, it’s hard to talk about Scots on the page without acknowledging Trainspotting. Irvine Welsh’s 90s classic shook up the literary scene with its brash, unapologetic dialect and its raw take on addiction, masculinity and marginalisation. What Glasgow Boys offers is something gentler but no less radical – a kind of emotional rewilding. Where Welsh gave us disaffection and nihilism, McDonald gives us care, vulnerability and connection. Different eras, different stakes, but the same insistence: these voices matter.
Four books to read if you loved Glasgow Boys
If this novel spoke to you, here are some others I’d recommend:
1. The Selkie Girls by Sophie Anderson: Poetic, rooted in folk tradition.
2. Family Life by Akhil Sharma: Tender explorations of family bonds.
3. After the Fire, A Still Small Voice by Evie Wyld: Masculinity, migration and landscape.
4. Everything Sad Is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri: Coming of age, cultural nuance.
Invitation to reflect
I’d love to hear what Glasgow Boys brought up in you? A memory of friendship, the echo of a place? Or were you swept up by the language itself?
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