The current conception of political literature is still influenced, to a significant extent, by the commitment debate between Theodor Adorno and Georg Lukács, in which the political power of the literary imagination rests either in its abstract freedom from political realities (Adorno), or in its close fidelity to them (Lukács).

This essay suggests that an understanding of James Kelman’s writing, as a singular form of political literature, requires us to move beyond this opposition. In blending a writing that is deeply committed to locality and to place with a writing affiliated to the abstractions of Kafka and Beckett, Kelman’s work suggests new ways of imagining the terms in which the mind is both free from and bound to its determining conditions. The essay offers a reading of Kelman’s later novels – Translated Accounts, You Have to be Careful in the Land of the Free and pre-eminently Kiron Smith, boy – in order to develop an account of a political imagination that is attuned to the particular cleaving that Kelman performs, between freedom and servitude, between place and the dismantling of place.

This essay responds to the perception that later twentieth-century experience underwent a shallowing of intensity – what Fredric Jameson famously diagnosed as a ‘waning of Affect’.

The essay reads this shallowing, as it is represented in the novel of the period, and as it reflects the logic of late capitalism, and of neoliberal culture. But while it examines the ways in which the novel partakes of this logic, it suggests at the same time that the experience of shallowness itself yields a particular kind of intensity, one which is at odds with its affective weakening. If we are to understand the relation between late capitalism, neoliberalism and waning of affect, we have to address the ways in which shallowness become its own kind of intensity – in which shallowness and intensity enter into a shifted relation with one another.

Reading the later twentieth-century novel from Philip Roth to Muriel Spark to Margaret Atwood to James Kelman, the essay argues that we can see a form of fictional expression emerging at this time, in which the novel does not abandon its commitment to forms of political intensity, but in which it rewrites the given relations between the weighty and the trivial, between weakening and intensifying, between fiction and reality.

This chapter argues that the later twentieth-century novel can be read as an expression and a critique of the economic and political logic of neoliberalism. In works from Muriel Spark’s The Takeover, to James Kelman’s How Late it Was How Late, to Philip Roth’s The Human Stain, the novel form registers a certain shallowness of perception and of affect, that can be seen as a corollary to the dematerialising effects of late capitalism. But if this is so, the chapter argues that we should not read the novel of the period as simply symptomatic of the corrosive influence of late capital on our forms of realism. Rather, the shallow intensities that we find in Spark, Roth, and Kelman are the marks of a new form of fictional critique that is developing in the period, one that attends to a shift in the way that culture is reproduced under twentieth-century neoliberal conditions.