The Young Team by Graeme Armstrong - Book Reviews

Overall Book club rating - 3.2/5

Angie's Book Rating 1/5

I read the first chapter but stopped reading any more of the book. Sorry, but I don't like that amount of bad language.

Col's Book Rating 4.5/5

Graeme Armstrong paints a realistic picture of post-industrial North Lanarkshire. Like so many places in the UK years of austerity has given rise to previously unseen levels of poverty and hopelessness. It is against this backdrop that the lives of the ‘neds’ (non-educated delinquents) are played out as seen through the eyes of Azzy Williams, the main character. 

 The story is informed by the author’s own experiences which include taking ecstasy, drinking heavily and staying out for days on end as a 13 year old. By the time he was 15 he was known to the police for assault and breach of the peace. By the time he was 16 three of his friends had overdosed on heroin, one fatally. 

 This stirring book uses throughout a vigorous Scottish dialect which contains the meatiest kind of cursing imaginable and this, sadly, is bound to lessen its potential audience. But as the book is written in the first person I feel the dialect and swearing is vital – it gives the novel authenticity and a sense of place. In fact it would be incredibly odd if the characters did not curse. 

 The neds’ childhood is prematurely ended on their inevitable introduction to gang culture. For them excitement is to be found in using cheap drugs (the author, when interviewed, said ecstasy could be bought for £2), alcohol, cannabis and gang culture. We see with startling clarity two sides of gang culture. There is excitement, adrenalin and the chance to be seen as a hero in battle but on the other hand there is no hiding the pathetic pointlessness of it all. This brilliant debut novel drags the reader into Azzy’s world and we are with him all the way. It’s an unrestrained wild read, unashamedly honest and gritty but one criticism for me is the omission of what lead Azzy’s teacher to tell him towards the end of the book that he has promise academically. We know nothing of Azzy’s scholastic achievements and even less about how his fellow gang members feel about having a ‘swot’ in their midst. The book’s formidable strength is the spotlight it throws on this way of life. Everyone is a victim; drug addled children grow into drug addled adults if they survive the overdoses and suicide attempts. There is a vicious circle at play here, a downward spiral whereby drugs alcohol and the constant threat of violence bring anxiety, nervous breakdowns and depression, the sufferers futilely self medicating with yet more drugs and alcohol. But through all this there is hope as the main character finds an escape route through education and reading. The uplifting message brought by the main character catching a flight out of that hell hole is tempered by thoughts of those left behind – left behind by Azzy and left behind by austerity. In conclusion this is a moving, painfully sincere and impressive first novel that so accurately captures the plight of disaffected and disenfranchised youth; in many ways, the forgotten generation.

TK's Book Rating 4/5

There can surely be no greater testament to the doomed youth of the impoverished post-industrial environs of north Lanarkshire than Armstrong's merciless visualisation of crushed, disconsolate human beings on the very periphery of existence. The valiant, indomitable foundation of the author’s personal experience thrusts one into the very core of drug and alcohol addiction -the pernicious fuel of gang warfare, where confused adolescents - attempting to search for their identities and place in the world, live only for the day without aspirations for the future. 

 Its multitudinous expletives -and exuberant but at times somewhat incomprehensible dialect, amplify the authenticity of ‘youth speak’. Azzy, our protagonist, and supporting characters are presented as being synonymous with ‘gutter beings’ … the offscourings of society … the undesirables, to be censured as pitiful outcasts of the very civilisation that disgorged them into the abyss of circumstance. Thus were born ‘The Young Team’ and the ‘Young Tois’, rival gangs who portray the beauty of brotherhood, the Biblical axiom of an ‘eye for an eye’, and the obsessional, innate obligation to don the armour of the estimable power of masculinity; the unpretentious ritual of ‘little boys’ transitioning into adulthood, aeons before their developing minds and bodies are ready, encapsulates their plaintive ensnarement of addiction and despair. The iron chains of patriarchal dealers hold them in eternal prisons where escape, unless through death, is impossible -likening their entrapment to a Faustian pact. 

 The most herculean and haunting reflection of the stranglehold and potency of addiction is presented in the chapter entitled ‘Anthems for Doomed Youth’, which is reminiscent of Wilfred Owen's World War I trench warfare poem, ‘Anthem for Doomed Youth’. Owen writes, “… What passing bells for those who die as cattle?”. His references to the “guns” and “wailing shells” are analogous to the impact of addiction to Class A drugs and substance withdrawal. The intensely graphic descriptions of hallucinations of withdrawal vibrantly echo the mental, emotional and physical torture; such is piercingly heart-breaking, as is the majestic imagery throughout. 

 The narrative is impressionistic, challenging and authoritative; traumatic, chilling and sorrowful -a kaleidoscopic animation of fragmenting minds and bodies. It is, undoubtedly, a woeful and current reflection upon the paucity of mental health provision - both then and now. Azzy defines their situation perfectly: “They were sufferin n scared n frustrated n lonely n depressed n ashamed n ignored or put on a waitin list fur help. Or, they never sought that help n limped on, till they couldnae limp any more”. As a psychotherapist, I am sadly only too aware of such tribulation and heartache. 

 And yet, secreted within the savagery, gossamer-like glimpses of Azzy’s inner soul emerge as poignant memories of innocence; his beautiful accolade to his long-suffering mother, “She’s the true unsung hero ae this story”, highlight his empathy and moral conscience. Such treasures woefully enhance the contrast to his prior cataclysmic decline and all that was lost.