On the surface, the idea of getting writers to reveal their most embarassing moments seems a good one. But in practice, the limitations quickly become painfully obvious, as we read one variant after another on the 'I was invited to perform a reading and nobody came' story. There is some variety - with grinding predictability Irvine Welch soils himself outside a football match for example - but overall this is pretty dreary stuff.
While they routinely deny it with telling insistence, it's hard to get away from the sense that the writers in this collection remain bewildered that the world fails to recognise the lofty nature of their calling. They're largely a pretty unlikeable bunch - prone to self-obsession, whinging and pettiness - more damningly, few of them write particularly well. While I love books, I've always loathed 'literary' fiction, regarding it as insular, pompous, myopic and dull. If nothing else, 'Mortification' confirmed that prejudice in spades.