Crime Scene Scotland

THE DISSASEMBLED MAN by Nate Flexer

2009-06-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

New Pulp Press, 9780981557908

Nate Flexer's debut is a modern psycho noir in the tradition of Jim Thompson that is one of the first books to be published by New Pulp Press. It is the story of Frankie Avicious, a man whose life is on the skids, who finds himself listening to the advice of a mysterious travelling salesman and finally setting out to take from life what he rightfully believes to be his. From the very start, when we see Frankie at his job mercilessly killing cattle for his rich father in law, we know we're we're in for a gruesome and cold-hearted journey into the dark side of the American landscape.

As a manifesto for New Pulp Press, The Dissasembled Man is a fine example of the intent and attitude of this new small publisher. The novel is lean and mean - with the emphasis on mean - a true psycho-noir novel that leaves the reader to work out the truth behind events we can only see from the point of view of the protagonist. At Crime Scene Scotland, we have a weakness for unreliable narrators, and Frankie is one of the most unreliable you could hope for. There is a whole world going on just outside of his narrow vision and the reader has to figure out just how much of the world we are seeing through this man's eyes. The twist that comes maybe two thirds of the way through the book ups the stakes even more and those last few pages are a real mindbender. To say much more would be to spoil the ride, but this is the kind of book that you could find yourself arguing over how to interpret. And that's a damn good thing.

The only true problem with The Dissasembled Man comes from a few stumbles in the authorial voice. While Frankie is a decidedly unreliable narrator whose true nature comes to light through the unfolding of the narrative rather than through what he tells us, at times he seems to have these bursts of lyrical and near literary observations that come across unnatural given the set up of his general tone and demeanour. Whether these are meant to imply the gradual fracturing of his mind, or to hint the reader that all is not as it seems, I'm not sure. But they don't flow as naturally as one might expect, detracting from the burning pace of the narrative. Basically, whenever Frankie becomes too verbose for his own good, the spell is momentarily shattered and the reader is reminded that they are reading a novel.

But taken as a whole, The Dissasembled Man is a damn fine read; a brilliant and raw example of the Psycho Noir genre, and a move back to the point of view of the disenfranchised American heartland that seems to have been ignored lately by a great deal of crime fiction. Flexer's world is one of losers and drifters and grifters and hard luck cases who came into this world with bad luck and only accumulated more as they grew up. The spirit of Thompson hangs heavy over this novel which feels at once part of the old pulp movement and also timeless; the America described in this novel is near mythical in its refusal to tie itself down to a year or era more than "now". There are hints of incest and immorality that are simply part of the fabirc of the life, and you know that Flexer's world is a world of the damned. Is there hope? There is only the hope of hope, and that adds a vicious streak to the novel that some may find unpalatable, but which those who dig the whole psycho-noir genre - particularly the cold and amoral world of early Jason Starr - are going to clamour around. And perhaps that should serve as a warning, too. Like many of Starr's character, Avicious is often unpalatable and plain repulsive. He's not a guy you're going to warm to, but he's absolutely fascinating and unsettling; a bold choice of narrator and if you prefer your characters to be fascinating rather than sympathetic, Avicious is your man. And, like Frankie, the book itself is too mean to be sympathetic, too damn tough to be loved and too screwed to be forgiven, and yet those pages turn as you find yourtself descending into the literal hell of one man's mind. This is unforgiving stuff, about as far from commercial crime as you could get, and damn did we love it here at Crime Scene Scotland.

And then there's that ending... is it a metaphysical, allegorical or plain loony tunes twist? Hard to say without discussing it, but suffice to say its going to stay with you for a long time even if all you're trying to do is figure out the truth.

Despite a roughness around the edges - which perhaps also gives it its charm - The Dissasembled Man is an excellent psycho-noir; A fine start for New Pulp, and a bold and disturbing debut from Flexer, read this one at the risk of your own sanity.

Russel D McLean for Crime Scene Scotland, 1/07/09

GUTTED by Tony Black

2009-04-19T14:35:00.001-07:00

Preface, June 2009, £16.99, ISBN 9781848090521

Gus Dury knows this much: he's a rager. His life is fuelled by anger, both impotent and justified, at personal aquaintances and those he's never met. His righteous fury has been curbed by harsh reality and his own limitations. In any other story he'd be heroic. Here, he's a man with no power trying his damndest to kick against all the wrongs he sees in the world.

And maybe this makes him a hero, too.

Tony Black's second novel (following from 2008's stunning Paying For It) finds Dury once again getting involved in events which others believe he has no business snooping around him. Driven by this rage and a self-destructive need to follow those he percieves as innocent into hell, Drury finds himself trying to save a dog and stumbling across a mutilated corpse. Its only the first step into a sinister world that will find Gus truly tested, physically, mentally and morally as he tries to maintain his own sense of justice in a world that constantly conspires to push him over the edge.

Gutted is fuelled by Dury's rage. At injustice both political and personal. Black's debut, Paying For It laid bare certain realities about the streets of modern Scotland, and now Gutted rips even further into our national psyche. Its exploration of class and corruption - two words that tear at the heart of our nation's politics, more-so than the smoke screen of "independence" that has become the popular image - exposes our inadequacies and shortcomings. And yet this is tempered by a deep love of our country and people. To truly love something, it seems, sometimes you have to acknowedlege the flaws inherent within it. And Black exposes our flaws, brings them out into the light so that we can see them. And we deal with them.

For all of this subtext, it is true that Black writes a terrific and furiously paced novel. Like the best of noir, the action is fast and yet never sacrifices the characters who drive it. Dury himself is a beautiful set of contradictions. His anger comes from love, and the revelations in this book about his marriage and why it was doomed to fail from the start are utterly heartbreaking and again motivated by that deep and driving rage at the ways in which people judge each other for actions that are, in the end, no one else's business.

What is more than incredible is that Black can make a character who - in a two second soundbite - might sound like someone we've seen before come across as engagingly fresh and convincingly alive. The alcoholic, crusading ex-journalist who only wants redemption even if he'll never find it? Dury is so much more than a soundbite, and that is where Black's true skills lie: he creates endlessly fascinating narratives and characters with hidden and unexpected layers.

Black is also a beautiful prose stylist. His voice comes roaring off the page, a scream of anger at the world. While Paying for It at times wore its influences on its sleeve, here Black is far more certain and sure of his own voice. We can still the influence on authors like Ken Bruen, but now Black's own voice shines through clearer, adapting his own tricks and ticks to great and mesmerising effect.

Black will make you rage like Dury at the world and he will break your heart just as easily. With Gutted, he continues to carve his own unique and dark portrait of modern Scotland. With a tour guide like Gus, you'll be taken beyond the tourist traps and tartan tat to the true torrid heart of modern Scotland.

If you haven't read Black, you're missing out on one of the best new voices to emerge from Scotland in the last few years. One of the best new voices to enter the genre, period. Miss out on this one and you will truly be Gutted.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com, 17/06/09

LOSER'S TOWN by Daniel Depp

2009-04-04T04:05:00.000-07:00

Simon And Shuster, March 2009, 9781847374073

Ex-stuntman turned PI David Spandau knows the truth about tinsel-town, understands the egos and deceptions that make up the factory of dreams. So when he's asked to protect a new hot star who's got himself in a world of bother with local mobsters, he's under no illusions about the kind of trouble he's getting into.

But Hollywood is the kind of place that eats up your expectations and spits them out on the sidewalk. And while Spandau can deal with Hollywood, is he really ready to take on the mob?

Depp's debut is peppered with the kind of punchy dialogue you would expect from a screen writer and the kind of scarbarous attacks on the world of Holly-weird that comes from years of being an industry insider.

However, all this lifting off the lid of tinsel-town is nothing we haven't seen before. From insecure stars who want to be famous more than they want to be good at their craft to cynical agents who won't talk to anyone they don't know to be important to the criminals who want an "in" to the dream factory... Loser's Town reads like a laundry list of other books. Spandau himself could have walked right of an Elmore Leonard novel. He's got the right kind of background and the kind of shady heroism that Leonard's heroes do so well. And our mobster wanting a piece of the action, he's grand, but no Ray Barboni; nothing to lift him up and let him stay in our conscious. The background characters - from the self-involved agent to the young movie star who's psychologically unprepared for the stratospheric level of fame that he's been thrust into - are all interesting enough, but could easily have come direct from central casting.

All This Holly-weird stuff has been covered many times in films such as What Just Happened? and of course in novels such as Rob Long's Set Up, Joke, Set Up, Joke. or in a more direct parallel, Steven Bochco's novel, Death by Hollywood which shares many of this novel's pros and cons leaving the reader to wonder whether its something in the way that working in the movie and TV business that makes you see the world a certain way. And while there's no denying that Depp does a great job of setting up his world, he's really not giving us much that we haven't seen before.

Which is a great pity, because Depp's natural prose style and ability to create empathy with his characters, even those we have seen before is perfectly evident. Depp appears to be a talented writer but the sheer deja-vu of Loser's Town robs it of any real power.

Perhaps, of course, the familiarity of Depp's situations and characters is also part of the point; Hollywood is a town where the familiar masquerades as the innovative, where the people are so sheltered that they do not know anything beyond the world of La-La land.

Loser's Town is a fun read, but is unfortunately not a book that's really going to stay with you any length of time. Its a well written thriller that shows promise for Depp's future as a novelist, but to really grab our attention next time out he's going to need to give us something we haven't seen before.

Russel D McLean for Crime Scene Scotland, 19/04/09

More we missed in 2008

2009-03-21T05:36:00.000-07:00

Every year at Crime Scene Scotland we get sent more books than we can handle. Not that we're complaining, mind you. We try and give every one a fair chance of getting read and reviewed, but some get left behind. So at the beginning of each new year a catch up post allows Crime Scene Scotland to give the skinny on those books from last year we missed out on the first time around.

Trigger City By Sean Chercover,

William Morrow, 2008, 978-0061128691, $23.95

Chercover has been up for all the big awards in the last year for his debut, Big City, Bad Blood and deservedly so: the novel breathed new life into the PI genre, one more step in its rejuvenation for the 21st century.

At Crime Scene Scotland, we dug the debut and were hyped to read Trigger City when it came across the welcome mat of the our secret Head Quarters. But it was with an air of uncertainty that we cracked the spine... could it live up to Chercover's debut offering?

The answering is a resounding yes. But more, Trigger City trumps Big City, Bad Blood to a massive degree. The narration, from world weary Chicago investigator Ray Dudgeon feels increasingly confident, the voice clearer and the humour less awkard than before. Chercover's style is massively natural, his voice engagingly human. Ray's personal and professional lives are increasingly developed here, particularly his relationship with (?) that becomes more complex and sometimes heartbreakingly believable as the novel progresses.

But what Chercover does to truly impress is mix this focus on the personal with an unexpected political canvas. It is unusual to read a novel whose focus feels so personal and yet whose scope is massively wide. As Ray investigates the life of a murderer who apparently took his own life, he stumb les across military and political conspiracies with some wide-reaching implications. Its at this point most novels implode under the weight of their own plots, but Chercover's stylish prose and focus on character allows him the leeway to explore larger issues within the scope of his thriller and not lose his characters in the bigger picture.

Trigger City merely confirms what those of us who read Big City, Bad Blood already knew: if there's any justice in the world, Sean Chercover is destined for great things.

The Drop Off by Patrick Quinlan

Headline, 2008, 9780755335497, £19.99

Quinlan's easy going style that wore its influences on the page in Smoked, before beginning to loosen its inspirational shackles in The Takedown here begins to feel utterly natural, a voice that has very much become the author's own. While still recalling the cool of Elmore Leonard, Quinlan adds his own spin to the cool, laconic voice and easygoing storytelling to create a thriller that simply flies by.

And as cool as it is, Quinlan never forgets that for all their posturing, his characters are real human beings. Returning to "Smoke" Duggan, his on-off, karate-expert love interest Lola and their partners in crime from SMOKED, Quinlan manages to evolve their relationships, creating a dynamic that flows from his earlier novel and yet changes the stakes for everyone involved. Sure, we'd all love to live in a cool-as-ice gangster movie, but what Quinlan does is cleverly show us the true downsides, especially when he takes the opportunity to get inside Lola's head as she tries to sort out the Smoke Duggan she thought she knew from the man he really is. And while Pamela, who's definitely digging being the girlfriend of a criminal named Cruz, seems to buy into the fantasy, her occasional realisation of the reality of her situation add more depth not simply to her character but to the novel as well.

Not that The Drop Off isn't also great fun, because it is: the action moves fast and the dialogue and set pieces retain that Leonard/Tarrantino hybrid that's fast become Quinlan's trade mark. The Drop Off is great fun, and Quinlan is one of those crime writers who just leaves you with a great big damn smile on your face.

The Deceived by Brett Battles

Preface Books, 2008, 9781848090286, £6.99

We'd still buy his books for the author name alone, but luckily Battles is one of those gifted thriller writers whose works keep the pages turning.

The second Jonathan Quinn finds the erstwhile cleaner going freelance following the events in The Cleaner, and still training up his apprentice, Nate. But when Quinn's latest job involves getting rid of the corpse of an old friend, he finds himself back in the dangerous underworld of conspiracies and government agencies with shady agendas.

Battles' style is fast, simple and clean: like reading a great action movie, you have a real sense of pace and character. And while the action is often thrilling, Battles never forgets about the characters in the midst of the chaos and nicely develops both major and secondary characters, even if the two potential femme-fatales - who sometimes feel a little more like MacGuffins than real people, but then maybe this is how Quinn sees them - come across as a little underdeveloped compared to many of the other characters in the book. Luckily, Quinn's developing relationship with the deadly beauty Orlando makes up for this, and when it counts, Battles really knows how to put his leads through the ringer.

The Cleaner was one of our favourite action thrillers of the past few years, and with The Decieved, Battles continues to entertain and get us turning those pages in a feverish anticipation of wanting to know what happens next...

Empty Ever After by Reed Farrel Coleman

Bleak House Books, 9781932557657, $14.95

One of the things that continues to impress us with the Moe Prager mysteries - whether Coleman intended this from the beginning or not - is how tightly connected each book in the series is. While they can be read alone, the emotional impact is even more impressive when you understand what has gone before.

If there is a central theme throughout the Prager books it seems to be that the past never truly dies; it is always reaching out to the future, as thought desperate to drag us back. And in no book has this been so self-evident than in Empty Ever After, which hearkens back to events in the first of the series, Walking The Perfect Square.

Coleman's writing is gripping, and his psychology fascinating. The Prager books have been among the most intriguing and unquely structured detective novels we've read in a long time, and Empty Ever After confirms and continues that impression. If there is one word of warning, we would say that its advisable to have read at least Walking the Perfect Square (available in reprint from Busted Flush Press along with Redemption Street and The James Deans) before starting this latest entry. Not only because its a wonderful novel in its own right, but doing so only enhances the emotional impact that drives Moe headlong into this investigation of his own past.

Russel D McLean for Crime Scene Scotland, 1/04/09

BEAST OF BURDEN by Ray Banks

2009-03-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

Polygon, 2009, ISBN 9781846970986, £9.99

Please note that this review contains spoilers for previous books in the Cal Innes series. For those who have not read these novels, certain sections have been highlighted in dark grey. Please skip these sections if you have not read the previous novels in the series.

The problem with many series characters is that, after a while, they can lose their freshness. That very thing which made them unique in the beginning soon becomes trite and predictable. Twelve or thirteen novels in, suddenly the audience knows what to expect, loses any sense that their protagonist's world might suddenly shift and change.

From the beginning, Ray Banks has claimed that his Cal Innes books will have a finite arc. That Innes - one of the most flawed and intriguing of recent hardboiled protagonists - will change during the course of each book, will carry every scar earned, will be affected by everything that happens to him.

By the end of the third novel, No More Heroes, Innes had battled Codeine addiction, his own antipathy and been battered by cars, bricks, guns and fists. And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, Banks showed his commitment to battering his protagonist by giving Innes a stroke in the midst of one of the worst race riots Manchester has ever seen.

As endings go, No More Heroes was a shocker. But Banks knows that he cannot cheat his reader and continues to play out the effects on Innes to a blinding degree. It is interesting to read a series character who maintains his essential characteristics and yet manages to evolve with each book. Here, even if Innes won't admit it, there is a definite shift in his character that may even be for the better. He is more humble than he has been before, even if he tries to deny that side of himself. He shouts and roars as loud as ever, and yet seems to have a more of a sense of self awareness than he ever had before. But this being Banks's world, it may be too little too late.

Beast of Burden attempts to tie up some of the dangling threads in Innes's life. By starting with Innes once more doing a favour for local gangster Morris Tiernan, we get a sense of some events coming full circle. You see, Tiernan's son Mo - drug dealer, waster and pain in Innes's arse - is missing. Tiernan wants Innes to find the lad. After all, Innes is a private investigator, right? No longer a wannabe, he's got a partner and a logo. This is his kind of work.

And it would be a simple job if it wasn't for the bad blood between Innes and Mo. Or the fact that one DS "Donkey" Donkin, last seen harrassing Innes in Saturday's Child, is hanging around, looking to hang Innes out to dry.

Banks has a number of ends to tie up in this final Innes novel, and he does a remarkable job of dealing with many seemingly disparate elements to create a coherent whole. More than any other entry in the Innes series, it probably helps if you've read the other novels, but then this is a sequence and not a series, so events have been building for some time anyway. The conclusion to Innes's run ins with Mo Tiernan is surprising and perhaps even a little jarring (here's a hint, do NOT read the acknowledgements first if you're the kind of person who does that: you're in for a major spoiler) but Banks is a fiendishly smart author and this unexpected move pays off beautifully. As with the other books in the series, this is all about how Innes reacts to a given situation, and the Mo Tiernan case gives him the kind of grief that truly tests a person.

And what is wonderful is that Innes doesn't pass with flying colours. Unlike many protagonists in the current crime fiction sphere, he is no superman. He does not neccasarily overcome his own demons. While he grows and develops as a character, Banks never forgets to allow him to make mistakes. Often huge or ugly ones. And this is why Innes is one of the best developed characters going in crime fiction: he is human, often in the worst possible ways.

But while Innes makes his mistakes, they often come from something approaching good intentions. And while we've seen him change over the course of five novels, no argument would make a difference to Banks's secondary narrator in the novel, DS "Donkey" Donkin. Donkin's narrative voice is scarred through with bitterness and resentment. He is the real-life version of a an old school copper relic like Gene Hunt from Life on Mars, except he's not cuddly or cute, given to moments of unnatural compassion - he's simply damn terrifying; a true dinosaur stampeding down the path towards his own extinction. On the subject of Innes, Donkin believes that no one can ever change. That Innes is as much of a fuck up as he ever was. But for men like Donkin, the world never changes. Change is a terrifying thing, and his rage at anything that threatens his concrete world view is a terrifying thing to behold.

While Banks has done the split voice before, in Saturday's Child, here he shows us true mastery by giving Donkin a unique voice that practically roars off the page. Banks, as a writer, is a true chameleon, never allowing the author to step out from behind his characters to take a bow. He truly makes the reader believe in the absolute and concrete reality of his character's voices.

We've said it before, and we'll say it again, that Banks is one of our favourite UK-based writers here at Crime Scene Scotland. He combines a ferocious voice with an understanding of modern Britain that refuses to hide or soften its blows behind the ramped up and improbably plotting of many current crime thrillers. Like Ted Lewis or Derek Raymond, Banks writes novels set in an unremittingly real world. And in the real world, all things - good and bad - must come to an end. So this book serves as Cal Innes's swan song. And as endings go, this one is tragic, compelling, gripping: a perfect finale to an incredible noir sequence.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com 17/03/09

Red Riding

2009-03-05T10:03:00.000-08:00

Tonight, 9pm, Channel 4, the first of three film adaptations of David Peace's incredible Red Riding Quartet (yes, three films, although there were four novels). A review of the four original novels is being constructed as we speak. The four novels are absolutely incredible, if emotionally exhausting to read, and the films should deservedly find them a whole new readership. The next two films will be shown over the next two weeks on Thursday at 9pm.

In the meantime, the official channel 4 website is at www.redriding.channel4.com and the trailer is embedded below:

BLEED A RIVER DEEP, Brian McGilloway

2009-03-04T14:10:00.000-08:00

MacMillan, April '09, ISBN 978-0230701366, £12.99

In the last few years, Ireland has been consistently upping the stakes with its contribution to the world of crime fiction. From cult figures such as Ken Bruen to bestsellers such as Tana French and John Connolly, the world of Irish crime fiction has never been more vibrant.

And now we can add the name of Brian McGilloway to the list.

His latest Inspector Devlin novel takes place with Irelands very own literal gold rush. Devlin is assigned to the security of a gold mine that has been opened up following the discovery of a possible seam near his patch. Its the perfect metaphor for the new money that has been pumping into Ireland these last few years, a theme that many of these writers - including Declan Hughes and Ken Bruen - have been dealing with, but McGilloway adds his own spin on proceedings as he proceeds to view proceedings from the view of Ireland's police force, the Garda; contrasting nicely with the private investigator and outsider heroes that have seemed more preferential in other Irish Crime fiction of late. McGilloway also touches on issues of immigration, human trafficking and other moral and political questions during the rapid course of his narrative. As with the best crime fiction, the commentary is hidden between the lines.

The character of Devlin himself is a fine creation and singles himself out from the herd of series characters constantly jostling for attention on the Crime Fiction scene. He's a damn fine copper. Headstrong, sure, but balanced and professional. Maybe he doesn't see eye to eye with his bosses, but he's a family man with a strong moral streak in him. Don't mistake any of this for dullness or weakness, however. When his moral code is challenged, Devlin rises to the challenge and pays the price professionally and sometimes personally for his dedication to the meaning of the job over the procedure of it all.

Bleed a River Deep was Crime Scene Scotland's first exposure to the work of McGilloway, and given this tight, smartly written and gripping third novel, it won't be our last.

Russel D McLean for CrimeSceneScotland.com, 6/01/09

THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE by Steig Larsson

2009-01-04T15:57:00.000-08:00

Maclehouse Press, an imprint of Quercus Books, January 2009, ISBN 9781847245564, £16.99

The second in Larrson's Millennium trilogy, The Girl Who Played With Fire has quite a legacy to live up to. The first in the series sold 3 million copies, garnering a huge amount of attention from both critics and readers.

It is clear from the start that the trilogy has been carefully planned by author Larrson, with plot strands from the first book being swiftly picked up as the narrative thunders along. Its a nice change from The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo which started a little too slowly for this reviewer's tastes, and shows a confidence in the reader that they will be able to cotton on to what has happened before. In a case like this, then, if you haven't read the first novel it will be best to go and play catch up.

The focus here is clearly on the fascinating Lisbeth Salander; the standout character from Larrson's debut novel. A highly introverted mix of control and anger, Salander is a beautiful excercise in contradiction. At one point, a character claims he would have diagnosed her with Aspergers, but that her condition is far more complicated than even that. And while the events of The Girl Who Played With Fire - a title that eventually proves to have at least two meanings in the course of the narrative - may go some way to explaning who she is and how her mind works, there is still a great deal about her that goes unexplained and that is what adds to the intrigue and mystery here.

Larrson is extremely adept at mixing the personal and the political in his complex and winding plot; something that was a little off kilter in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which occasionally leant more towards the political polemic than the personal. Here the mix is just right, and Salander is the perfect vehicle for what is clearly Larsson's righteous anger at the evils of the world. The original Swedish title for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo apparently translated as Men Who Hate Women, a title that could just as easily apply here. Indeed, Larsson's anger at the way society and individuals can treat people burns through the narrative with a righteous indignation, although it does not mean that he shies away from the evil that people may do. No, he often confronts it painfully and directly. And most appealingly he does so without relying too heavily on the bogey-men psychopaths that many thriller writers opt to stand in for evil. Of course, one character who appears to feel no pain comes close, but manages to stay on just the right side of believable.

While Larsson's political and social motivations are worn on his sleeve, he has learned not to let them overshadow the emotional impact of his second novel. It is rare that a novel has me shouting out in anger at characters or situations, but as this one raced (and for such a large novel, with such complex themes, this one moves with incredible pace) towards its climax, there were several moments that had me reading with jaw dropped.

The Girl Who Played With Fire is an excellent second act in what could prove to be a long talked about classic sequence of the thriller genre. With genuine concerns driving the narrative and a showpiece character in the form of the fascinating Lisbeth Salander, the Millennium Trilogy is shaping up to be an exciting and literate series that should excite and incite readers in equal measure.

Russel D McLean for CrimeSceneScotland.com, 05/01/09

Donald E Westlake (Richard Stark) passes

2009-01-02T00:59:00.000-08:00

The creator of Dortmunder and (under the name Richard Stark) master criminal Parker has passed away. He died on wednesday 29 December, 2008 aged 75.

At Crime Scene Scotland, as well as enjoying Westlake's lighter, more comic novels, we were massive fans of the Parker books. To us they did everything a good crime novel should and by eschewing unneccesary sentimentality from the narration, Stark was the ideal pen name for these novels and Parker was one of the truly great creations in all of fiction.

A giant figure in the world of crime and mystery fiction, Westlake will be sorely missed.

Obituary in the International Herald Tribune

PARIAH by Dave Zeltserman

2009-01-01T14:09:00.001-08:00

Serpent's Tail, 2009, ISBN 978-1846686436, £7.99

Its rare that a meta novel ends up being entertaining as well as clever, but Dave Zeltserman’s excellent new novel, Pariah manages that trick very successfully; at once a noir-ish kidnap novel and an attack on the nature of celebrity memoir, plagiarism and the worst excesses of the publishing industry.

The book itself – the manuscript for a book by Boston gangster Kyle Nevin – takes the form of a first person narrative with editorial notes scattered throughout, presumably to our protagonist’s editor. It is unclear at first why we are seeing these notes, but as the story twists and turns (and, oh, does it twist) these editorial intrusions become not only part of Zeltserman’s meta-commentary but also hint that not everything may be as clear as we think it is.

As the book opens, Kyle Nevin finds himself released from prison, looking for revenge on the old boss who put him there. If there’s one thing Kyle can’t abide, it’s a rat. And his boss was the biggest rat of all. So when Kyle does his time – like a man – he comes looking for revenge and satisfaction. His outright anger and near uncontrollable ego lead him into a kidnapping plot that goes horribly wrong and results in an unexpected celebrity and a publishing deal with a New York House. At this point, Zeltserman’s meta-narrative kicks into overdrive and we’re treated to a sometimes subtle, other times not-so, look at the nature of fame, the pitfalls of celebrity tell-alls and the all out pain of plagiarism. Except this is a noir novel, so there’s plenty more sex (or is there?) and violence to come.

As to that twisting plot, there are enough turns here to make some people car sick and yet the novel runs to under 300 pages. Clearly Zeltserman is in control of his action and his characters and this stripped down narrative moves at a blistering pace. Of course, Zelsterman has set himself a difficult task in his choice of narrative voice, walking the line between his own skills as an author and Kyle Nevin’s general naiveté when it comes to writing a novel. But the end result is more than readable, sometimes painfully punchy and authentic enough to allow us to believe that Nevin is the voice behind the story we’re being told.

Pariah’s central conceit is hardly breaking new ground – we’ve seen the same topics lampooned to one degree or another throughout film and literature before – but feels very appropriate to the current times within publishing and the world in general. Some of the targets do seem a little too obvious, with James Frey and OJ Simpson being rather clearly referenced, and the publishing execs with whom Nevin deals are maybe drawn a little too broadly. although, perhaps this, too, is the point; Nevin clearly sees the world in far more broad colours than most of us would – many of the secondary characters are almost dismissed in his eyes, with the feeling that perhaps they live other lives beyond the page or may not have behaved in quite the way Nevin describes. After all, the unreliable nature of literature is perhaps one of the points Zeltserman is trying to drive home here.

Ultimately, Pariah is another gripping and clever tale from the author of the incredible Small Crimes. Its inventive format holds together well, and while some of the satire may be a little obvious, the novel has a mischievously black sense of humour that more than endears itself to the reader. On top of this, Pariah is just a damn fine tale of noir that continues Zelsterman’s fascination with unreliable protagonists that began in Small Crimes. Highly readable and highly recommended along with Zeltserman’s blistering first novel for Serpent’s Tail, Small Crimes.

Russel D McLean for Crimescenescotland.com, 1/01/09

AUDITION - Ryu Murakami

2008-12-25T15:18:00.000-08:00

Bloomsbury, 2009, ISBN 9780747589488, £10

A couple of years ago, a friend passed me a copy of In the Miso Soup, with the warning that it was going to be messed up. And yet gloriously wonderful. My first exposure to the twisted world of Ryu Murakami was devoured fast; even when nothing appears to be happening, Murakami appears to be setting themes and threats bubble beneath the relatively innocuous surface of his prose, leaving the reader desperate to discover what dirty secrets and noiresque monstrosities will finally emerge at the novel’s climax.

Audition – and yes, it is the inspiration for the unsettling movie by Takashi Miike – follows in a similar pattern. The innocuous beginning – Why don’t you find yourself a wife, pops? – leads the reader down a path that rapidly diverges from anything we expect to be normal. The novel takes its time in setting up the central character of widowed Japanese businessman, Aoyama, introducing us to the painful loss of his wife and his near selfish need to find some form of companionship. As much as he claims to be looking for love, perhaps he is merely looking for something to fill the holes in his life. He was, while his life was alive, far from saintly. And this merest hint at his unfaithful nature sets us up to distrust much of what comes from his own thoughts and actions. Allowing us to see not only how he dupes himself but those around him.

Murakami’s characters seem to be experts in self deception. And it is this that leads to their downfall. In the case of Aoyama, his sins and his pride seem small at first, but rapidly we come to question whether or not he truly deserves his fate when he meets the alluring but troubled Yamasaki Asami. Their entire courtship is based on deception, given that Aoyama has colluded with an old friend to set up “auditions” for aspiring actresses in order that Aoyama can remarry and fill those gaps in his life that he yearns to forget.

What follows could almost be a plot from some Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie – the deception leads to romance and ultimately to the possibility of coming clean, which could make or break the relationship – but imbued with darker colours than Hollywood would ever allow. Aoyama’s own actions are morally dubious and his dream girl is quite literally too good to be true. Her seemingly meek acceptance of his declarations of love are offset by questions about her own life and background that up the tension on the part of the reader; what is the big secret? Is she truly who she appears to be?

Those already familiar with Miike’s movie will have their answers, but be warned that even if you expect the twist that’s coming, the climax is even more unsettling than in the movie. Less visceral, perhaps, but Murakami’s matter-of-fact voice serves to deeply unnerve the reader and bring a nightmarish quality to events that you will be unable to shake for weeks afterwards. This detached narration - and much credit to the translator for their work here - serves to enhance the moral questions raised in the text without offering many answers except those the reader brings with them.

If you haven’t discovered the psycho-noir of Murakami, do yourself a favour, drop everything, rush out and buy his books. But gentlemen be warned; after reading Audition, you’ll never look at a pretty girl in quite the same way again.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com, 24/12/08

THE BIG O by Declan Burke - guest review by Tony Black

2008-12-25T15:08:00.000-08:00

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008, ISBN 978-0151014088

Declan Burke has been on quite a trip with his hugely-acclaimed second novel, The Big O.

After starting life on the lists of tiny Irish publisher Hag's Head Press the Sligo-born author's follow-up to Eight-Ball Bogie has recently been given an American release.

No mean feat for a book that Burke gave up his hard-earned mortgage deposit to see published, and for which he had such modest hopes as to ''recoup the costs''.

It's a trip, though, that pales by comparison to The Big O's rollicking plot.

When stick-up artist, Karen, meets Ray -- a crim with a side-line in kidnap -- you can expect fireworks. Figure on worse when Ray is commissioned to snatch Karen's best mate, Madge. Throw in a dodgy plastic surgeon with an immediate need for cash ... and an insurance policy on Madge, and the the mix a heady one.

The Big O is one big-old crazy caper with an eerie hint of Elmore Leonard and a brash, bold, ball-bustin' tempo that puts the genre so close to The Edge that Larry Mullen might be nearby busting his sticks!

As a stylist, Burke is as kick-ass Irish as the great Ken Bruen and is already taking the back-roads to the same place in American hearts with this latest Houghton Mifflin Harcourt release.

The really big appeal of The Big O, however, is that there is simply nothing like it -- nothing close -- on the bookshelves today.

The Big O is a perfect confluence of craic and cracker-barrel craziness. A white-knuckle ride with pace and taste and a winding, weaving storyline that will have you moving through those pages faster than a hobo with a free meths ticket.

Burke has hit a bullseye with The Big O, and, blessed as he is with such a slick and impressive command of language, his achievement has more than earned all its big old praise.

Tony Black's PAYING FOR IT is out now. The nice folk at Crimespree said: "I'd put him up there with Rankin and Kernick and Billingham with just this first novel." Visit his site at: www.tonyblack.net

The Books of the Year

2008-12-23T16:07:00.000-08:00

Russel has been a little slow with reviews lately. However, for some of his top reads of the year, and also those of other respected critics, writers and bloggers, head to bookspotcentral and check out this article.

New full reviews will be forthcoming soon including a guest review from Tony Black of Declan Burke's THE BIG O.

INTERVIEW - Brett Battles, author of THE CLEANER and THE DECEIVED

2008-09-30T15:55:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, we reviewed one of the best new thrillers this reviewer had read in years. THE CLEANER was a breath of fresh air, a real action thriller that started moving from page one and never gave up. Since then, the marvellously monikered Brett Battles has released THE DECIEVED, the second pulse-pounding Jonathan Quinn thriller. In that period, over several months (due to personal issues) we interviewed Brett on THE CLEANER, his writing and his background. After a longer than necessary delay (Mr Battles, we owe you a beer next time we see you; maybe more than that), we present the lost interview:
CRIME SCENE SCOTLAND: Brett, welcome to the Crime Scene Scotland interview. I should start by saying that THE CLEANER is an excellent novel, reminds me of a very tight action movie with a definite Bondian influence. In fact your lead, Jonathan Quinn, is a kind of secret agent, working for a very covert operation. But he’s not a Bond character, he’s more like the guy who cleans up situations after the fact, ensuring nothing seems out of place. He’s a very ordered personality, very tight and withdrawn, and the situation he finds himself in challenges that, forces him to make potentially sloppy and dangerous choices that deviate from routine. So I guess I?m asking, what made you think of the clean up guy as protagonist? And what do you feel attracted you specifically to the character of Jonathan Quinn?

BRETT BATTLES: Thanks, Russel. Glad you enjoyed it.

Your understanding of Quinn is exactly right. He’s not Bond, but he does get pushed into some Bondian situations and must adapt. As you say, deviating from his routine.

I think what attracted me first to create a character whose role is more behind the scenes is that I’ve always been fascinated with the story behind the story. What I mean is, you hear about some catastrophe, let’s say a random killing. You’ll read about what happened, you’ll get the blow by blow, you might even get the story of what happened leading up to it. But what I want to know is what happens next. The idea of a cleaner, of Quinn, being my protagonist grew from that. He’s a what happens next character. As for Quinn, himself, he was a natural extension of that. I lived with the idea of a cleaner for a while, and eventually as he started to take shape in my mind, there was Quinn.

CSS: One of the things you do very well is make his world come to life - - that is, the Office - his employers - seems perfectly plausible, despite being such a shady organisation. And the way Quinn reacts - especially in the beginning, where he's impersonating an FBI agent - to other agencies feels just right. Was there much research that went into Quinn's world and profession? Did you find anything to model Quinn's own practices on in the real world? Or was it a matter of extremely good bluffing? I have this horrendous feeling you're about to shoot back a one word answer of, "bluff"...

BB: I mulled Quinn over in my mind for many months before actually starting the
story. And in that time I did do some passive research...in the sense of paying attention to news stories I heard that might have some relevance, watching documentaries on investigative techniques, that kind of thing. But the short answer...I created him how I wanted him to be, and how I imagined it would be like to do his job. Is that a bluff?

Its kind of a bluff... but one that you pull off very nicely. There's a very nice feel for Quinn as a professional who knows what he's doing, or at least who seems that way to the reader...

CSS: As you say, you spent a great deal of time making sure you got the right hook for the novel, the proper point of view in Quinn. I've known a lot of writers who "audition" characters before ever getting them down on the page. Others who simply hear the rhythms of a voice and let the character run riot on the page. How much do you know about these guys - not just Quinn, but also his protege, his enemies, his loves - beyond what there is on the printed page? Are you the kind of guy who keeps notes on characters or lets them run instinctually? And I'm guessing the kind of approach you use probably indicates the kind of plotter you are as well....

BB: I know them more and more everyday, but I'm kind of like that second example...I hear the rhythms and let the characters tell me who they are. That's not to say I didn't think a lot about Quinn before I began writing about him, but I learned so much more as I wrote THE CLEANER. Some of the other characters, Nate, Quinn's apprentice, and Orlando, Quinn's best friend and colleague, grew on the page as I wrote them. Most of my other characters are the same way. As for notes, I do keep a few as I'm going, knowing I will need them in future stories. And you're correct about the type of plotter I am. I have an idea of where I want to end and where I want to begin, what happens in between comes to me as I'm writing. Now that said, basically what happens is that my first draft is like a 400 page outline that I'll polish and tweak and sometimes heavily rewrite several times before handing it over to my publisher. It's a process that works well for me.

CSS: Seeing as the whole thing grew quite organically (and, yeah, I think its a good way to work - - keeps you as surprised as the reader in some ways which helps with the energy of a piece), were you approaching the original draft of THE CLEANER as the first in a series or was it ever intended as a standalone?

BB: You're absolutely right about the organic approach. It keeps me interested, almost like I'm a reader, too, and want to know what's going to happen next.

When I started THE CLEANER, I wasn't thinking series. I was just thinking, Write the damn book!" But when I was about half way through, a writer friend in a critique group I was in at the time said I had the makings of a series character with Quinn. Since then it seemed like a no brainer.

CSS: You say that you didn't think of THE CLEANER as part of a series initially... now there are two ways to go with series characters and that's to have a limited run (George Pelecanos with the Nick Stefanos books) or to keep them going indefinitely (JLB's Robichaux, or Lawrence Block's Matt Scudder). Do you have plans to keep Quinn around only for a little while or are you just seeing how it goes? And do you think that a series character should have a natural stopping point?

BB: That's an interesting question, and one I've been asking myself for a while now. I don't think I see Quinn as a ever-ongoing series. I think that for most series characters there is a natural stopping point, a time when the can no longer do the job perhaps. Not all characters, though. Depends on how the series is set up. Still, for me, I haven't made a final definite decision yet, and will probably play it out as it goes. In my mind now, I see an end, but I also see the possibility of spinning one of the other characters off at some point, or even bringing Quinn back in a supporting role in some future stand alone, for instance. I want to keep my options open and not stick myself with a decision I'll regret later.

CSS: THE CLEANER is definitely in the grand thriller tradition with its exotic (and not so) locales, which seem to be drawn from your own travel experiences - quite extensive if your own website's Q&A and bio is to be trusted... Were these travels part of a misspent youth or (if you can talk about such things!) work related? And what was it about Vietnam and Germany especially that drew you to include them so prominently in the novel?

BB: Ah...my travels. I've been a traveler since I was about 15 and went on a high school trip to London and Paris. That's a long way to go for a young kid from California. But the adventure of it all captured my imagination, and turned my life into one of exploration. Vietnam and Berlin are more recent trips. Berlin was for business. I actually worked there for about four months on a project, and really got to know the city. I love Berlin, it's interesting and exciting. Vietnam I visited in the late 90s on a trip to pick up my daughter from the orphanage she had spent her first year of life in. The nature of a Vietnamese adoption at the time meant I had to spend two weeks in Ho Chi Minh City as paperwork was processed. Again, I did a lot of exploring. Most of it with my new daughter in a carrier on my back looking over my shoulder

CSS: I'm very interested in what it is attracted you to the thriller genre. What is about these kinds of novels that makes you want to write - and I presume read - them?
BB: I think I've been attracted to thrillers since I was a kid. There was this great series of books called Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators. Three teenage boys out solving mysteries. I loved it. That led into books by Alistar Maclean, then Jack Higgins, BLACK SUNDAY by Thomas Harris, and then pretty much everything by Robert Ludlum. Later I grew a deep fondness for novels by Graham Greene.

I think what makes me want to also write these types of books is the excitement of the stories, the idea of people knocked out of their comfort zone and suddenly having to act just to stay alive, and the great characters that come out of all of that. I love to be sucked into a story. In fact that reminds me of a very important author I forgot, whose work completely sucks me in. Stephen King. The way he writes, the way his stories unfold just make me want to sit on my couch all day and read until I'm done.

CSS: One of other things I notice about the novel is it has a very filmic quality. I've already mentioned James Bond - definitely comes across in your use of locations - but also your use of action and the way you structure your story comes across as visual and structured in the way an action blockbuster might be. Do you find that films influence your writing in the same way as your reading? In fact, more generally, do you think that filmic storytelling in general is beginning to influence prose storytelling?

BB: I think film is a huge influence on me. Since I was a child I've been both a reader and a movie watcher. I even ended up majoring in Film Criticism (basically film history) because I loved the medium so much. My favorite class, by the way, was an entire semester on Alfred Hitchcock. And I don't think filmic storytelling is beginning to influence novel writing, I think it has been doing so for years. Take Stephen King for example...the way he has always written is very filmic. Michael Crichton, Robert Ludlum, Lee Child, they all write that way. Personally, not sure I know how to write in any other fashion

CSS: Before we go, Mr Battles, I have to admit I’m a little confused about your publishing history. I found a postcard for a novel called HUNG OUT TO DIE the other day - fell out an old issue of Crime Spree - which I understand was an early title for THE CLEANER? I know you had a fairly convoluted road to publication, and I always think its intriguing to hear how writers broke into the business....

BB: Convoluted indeed, more so than most, I think. HUNG OUT TO DIE wasn't even the first title. Before that I was using the working title DEVIL MAY CARE...it didn't mean anything, but it kind of stuck while I was writing the initial draft. Like most writers I sent out dozens of queries, and like the majority, I received mostly thanks but no thanks replies. (My favorite was an agent who sent back my query letter with a small ink stamp in the corner that said "NOT FOR US".) A few wanted to read a couple chapters, but ultimately it came to nothing. I was finally to the point that I was going to put the book on the shelf and start a new one.

Then I ran into a writing friend of mine, Nathan Walpow, who was being published by a small press called Ugly Town. He said he'd provide me an introduction. So I sent them a copy and wait, and waited, and waited. It was just about exactly a year later when one of the publishers at Ugly Town called me and said they were buying my novel. That was one of the best moments of my life. Over the next several months we changed the title to HUNG OUT TO DIE, and got the manuscript ready for publication. But things didn't work out exactly the way I thought they would. Due to a distributor who had gone bankrupt the previous year, Ugly Town ran into financial difficulties and were forced to suspend operation. It looked like my dream was going back to square one. But the Jim and Tom at Ugly Town did a very cool thing. They sent my manuscript to a friend of theirs who was an editor at Bantam Dell. She loved, bought it from them, and ended up giving me a 3 book deal. It worked out like a dream. I couldn't be happier. It was after Bantam picked me up that we changed the name to THE CLEANER.

And for that, Mr Battles we are all grateful. And even more grateful that you took time out of your schedule to talk to us, even if the final product took a while to get online. If you haven’t discovered the sheer pleasure of Battles’ writing, Crime Scene Scotland prescribes THE CLEANER and THE DECIEVED immediately. Battles is a name you'll be talking about for a long time to come.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland, 30/09/08

SENSELESS by Stona Fitch

2008-09-30T15:53:00.001-07:00

Two Ravens Press, £8.99, ISBN 978-1906120313

There is a theory that the best of novels engage in an ongoing dialogue with their readers. Not something one would immediately assume to equate with any kind of genre fiction, but time and again I have defended the genre by saying that – at its very best – crime and thriller fiction can engage with the world in ways that other forms can never hope to do.

And books like Senseless – described on the author’s website as a literary thriller – only prove the point.

Elliot Gast is an economost. Just one of many professionals who help keep the world of commerce running. He is nobody important. And yet one day he becomes the focus of the world when he is kidnapped off the streets in Belgium by an extremist group. The group hold Gast in captivity. The captivity itself is nothing on the surface. He is fed, watered and made comfortable.

And then they start to deprive him of his senses.

One by one.

It’s a compelling and chilling premise, one which instantly grabs the reader. Of course for many the premise poses the question of how are his senses removed? And it’s a question with a chilling answer. But not simply in the visceral matter of the torture. Senseless also engages and challenges the reader with a second twist: the entire captivity is broadcast live on the internet.

As Gast is tortured – for crimes he cannot account for – people all over the world are watching the feed as the extremists – can we call them terrorists given their reluctance to spell out their grievances? – proceed to mutilate and deprive their victim. He is encouraged to play along, to give the audience their scream.

And slowly, we realise, that the audience is not simply the faceless millions on the fictional internet described in Stona’s book… but ourselves. In one particular passage, Gast talks of seeing a news report in a bar about two men who survive a gruesome accident. While he momentarily feels empathy, he then goes about his life as though nothing had happened. During his incarceration, he realises what a monster this made him. As we, the readers, realise that after reading of Gast’s tortures, we too will return to our lives. After all he has lost, we have lost nothing.

Except maybe some part of our soul.

The book, however, refuses to act as pure condemnation. Fitch is a more subtle writer than that. Any discomfort we feel is brought on purely by realisation of our own complicity; he does not explicitly scold the audience.

And are we to truly believe that the author wrote the novel before the reality TV boom? While in the early 2000’s there were reality shows, they were yet to reach the dizzying heights they have now. And somehow, this makes Senseless even more unsettling and plausible than it may have seemed during its initial release days after the events of 9/11.

Shades of grey play throughout the narrative. There is uncertainty and fuzziness in certain motivations. The “terrorists” who take Gast of the streets remain shrouded in mystery. We do not know for certain what they want. Their goals are unclear even if their methods are frighteningly obvious. Are they delighting in terror for terror’s sake? Are they making some political statement that hovers tantalisingly close to our – and Gast’s – realisation?

Senseless is a disturbing and disturbed book on many levels. Its deceptively simple surface narrative touches on deeper and more complex themes, allowing it to be read on many levels. The very ambiguity of motivation and psychology leaves you searching the narrative for clues as to some reason why, engaging with the text on a level most thrillers seem to forget. This is one hell of a novel; smart, dark and unnerving.

And for the more viscerally oriented among you; you’ll never look at a cheese grater in the same way again.

Russel McLean for CrimeSceneScotland, 30/09/08

Guest Review by Tony Black- SANCTUARY by Ken Bruen

2008-09-30T15:35:00.000-07:00

Transworld, June 2008, £17.99, ISBN978-1848270275,

SANCTUARY is the seventh, and possibly final, installment in the Galway-based Jack Taylor series by Ken Bruen...if this is the end, and God forbid that's true, then Jack's going out on a high.

The booze-soaked sleuth has been battered and bruised in just about Biblical proportions from book one (The Guards) and this latest outing offers no, er, sanctuary for him.

Jack is up to his neck in bad shit from just about page one, when he receives an anonymous list of 'victims' including two guards, one judge, and a nun, signed only by the mysterious, Benedictus.

Followers of the groundbreaking series will know Jack's a man who's never been overly keen on the 'finding business'; in fact, if he's interesting in finding anything, it's an escape from his own misery. He seems close to doing just that at the outset of SANCTUARY -- he even has his tickets for New York in hand -- but then the case dramatically draws him in.

And what a bitch it turns out to be.

To the list of victims is added...a child.

Bruen is a master of the slow burn, adding fuel to the mounting fire of Jack's rage, until finally, the reader has scorched fingertips and the threat of spontaneous human combustion seems a real possibility.

Unputdownable is an overused catch-all these days but SANCTUARY demands the description. The relentless incident, the mounting doom and the unshakable knowledge that here is a tale told by a master storyteller -- at the peak of his form -- makes for one b'Jesus of=2 0a read.

The beauty of the prose can only be described as that of a genius. Bruen applies a finesse to his slickly-crafted sentences that's unmatched. It's a Salinger-esque trip told with the kind of insight you'd expect from an author with his own unique, cultural X-ray vision. And, in SANCTUARY, the new Ireland, in all its complexities, is never far from his field of view.

Those of you who have stayed the course throughout the bestselling Jack Taylor series are duly rewarded with the return of a host of recognisable characters -- savoury and otherwise -- that Jack has drawn around him. Jeff and Cathi. Ridge. The odious Father Malachy. And none are mere cameos. They all earn their right to be there, contributing the kind body-blows you'd expect from Bruen. But be warned, the revelation about Serna May is a particularly lethal hurley smack to the nut.

If SANCTUARY spells the end for Jack, he has earned his rest. But for those who don't want to believe it's so, Bruen leaves a tantalising prospect in the final few lines...which I won't reveal here. All I will say is, let's pray Jack's back...and soon.

Tony Black's PAYING FOR IT is out now. The nice folk at Crimespree said: "I’d put him up there with Rankin and Kernick and Billingham with just this first novel." Visit his site at: www.tonyblack.net

THE EVIL THAT MEN DO by Dave White

2008-09-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

Three Rivers Press, 2008, 978-0307382795, $13.95

Jackson Donne is back. The Jersey PI, last seen in Dave White’s debut novel, When One Man Dies, is drawn into a decades old case that implicates his own family in the complex and rewarding New Jersey thriller, The Evil that Men Do.

The first thing you notice upon starting this second Jackson Donne novel is that White has switched narrative styles since his first novel. The first person narration is gone, replaced entirely by a limited third that switches viewpoints between key cast members. Clearly a wise choice: White’s voice seems steadier here, less rough around the edges. The switch seems to imbue the author with a kind of confidence that ups his game, gives the novel a slightly tougher, more hard-edged feel than before. One of our problems with When One Man Dies was the occasionally awkward switch between narrative perspectives – something very few authors can achieve naturally – and this time round, the consistency of voice really creates a more cohesive and convincing whole.

Perhaps ironically, it is the distancing of the third person narrative helps Jackson seem more real. White’s style is near cinematic, so the distancing that comes with a third person narrative works in the author’s favour, allowing us a wider and more panoramic perspective.

Whether it’s down to this new voice, or the change of narrative, White appears to have more control over the longer narrative here. The plot is tight, the beats playing out powerfully and with a conviction that rarely fails. More than that, the personal feel of this story is more powerful than before, with Donne’s estranged family adding an unexpected poignancy to this thrilling tale of long kept secrets exploding into violence after decades of silence. His sister is a sympathetic contrast to Donne, while his mother – slowly deteriorating from Alzheimer’s disease and focussed only on the most terrible moments from her past – is convincing and heartbreaking.

We’re suckers at Crime Scene Scotland for the kind of crime stories that reach back into the past. Suckers too for the truly personal crime stories, the kind that have an immediately emotional affect upon the protagonists. Here, the Donne family are clearly connected to events that took place decades before Jackson’s birth, and White drip-feeds us that story between the pay-off that intrudes on Jackson’s life in a violent and bloody manner.

The book is designed to ramp up the tension and fast. Without his PI license – revoked following the events of When One Man Dies – Jackson Donne is just some guy drinking his life away, working at a bar, surviving but not really living. So when he becomes involved in the deadly game of cat and mouse that involves not just him, but his estranged family, the pressure is piled on. Without a license – he’s like early Matt Scudder, not really a PI but doing “favours for friends” – he cannot call on the same resources he once had. Suddenly Jackson is just some guy… and he’s just some guy caught up in a hellish situation.

The novel twists and turns beautifully. White has not only become comfortable with the novel length work, but also with himself: there is a conviction here that sells the action. The writing is cleaner and more crisp than in When One Man Dies. And Jackson feels more believable as a person than he did in the debut. Although he’d gone through a great deal before and during When One Man Dies, here we really see a man whose world has been put through the ringer, who is almost ready just to give up and crawl into the nearest beer bottle. And more, we see a man whose very soul won’t allow him to do that. The added family portrait may have something to do with that, and it’s clear that White’s focus has shifted more definitely towards the personal. There is a level of emotional realism to the character that helps move White’s writing up a level from very good indeed to, quite simply, great.

The Evil that Men Do achieves everything a second novel needs to do: it expands not merely on the fictional world and the emotional life of the series protagonist, but also on the author’s skill and focus. White is shaping up to be a novelist worthy of a committed following, and at Crime Scene Scotland, we’re looking forward to seeing what Jackson does next.

Russel D McLean for CrimeSceneScotland, 14/09/08

Found on the internet 30/07/08

2008-07-30T06:11:00.000-07:00

A documentary on the making of Tony Black's Edinburgh based noir debut, Paying For It.

A Double Hit of Moe Prager

2008-07-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

Walking the Perfect Square, 978-0-9792709-5-6 $13

And

Redemption Street 978-0-9792709-5-6 (dec’08), $13

By Reed Farrel Coleman, Busted Flush Press, ‘08

It’s been a few years since I read Reed Farrel Coleman’s third Moe Prager novel, The James Deans, but I remember being very impressed by the style and the complex nature of the plot that seemed unusually smart in an era of high concept thrillers whose complexities are often limited to plot twists over any attempt to deepen the narrative.

So I was excited to hear of Busted Flush Press’s plans to reprint the first two novels from the series, Walking the Perfect Square and Redemption Street, both of which are clearly the work of the same writer in the same series, but manage to feel like such different entities that they become more than an attempt to replay what the reader loved the first time round.

Walking the Perfect Square is a near perfect novel; a low key character piece, where ex-NYPD cop Moe Prager finds himself involved in the search for a missing college student. The more Prager digs into the boy’s life, the more he finds contradictions and anomalies that do not so much add to Prager’s impressions as detract from them; rather than building a picture, he winds up deconstructing one.

The dual narrative takes place between 1998 and 1979; a smart move whose pay off is not immediately evident. But like the best novels, its all about the denouement, and as you progress through the novel, you start to realise that the seemingly unrelated modern strand is intensely important, that its only with the passage of time that Moe can gain a true perspective on what he found while investigating Patrick’s life.

It’s a blinding read, and absorbing in a way that feels utterly unexpected. For the first two thirds of the novel, Moe seems to be walking in circles (not squares, per-se, he’ll leave that down to another character in the novel), talking to people, discovering next to zip. But there’s always this hint, this underlying sensation that something is hidden out there. That for all these conversations seem to amount to nothing, there’s more going on than Moe or we can even guess at. And while the slow burn approach could be an unwise choice in less skilled hands, we’re kept on board by Moe’s Chandlerian narration (he twists words and ideas in a way that easily evokes the debt all modern eyes owe to Marlowe) and the sheer conviction of the writing.

And there's a brilliant – near beautiful – pay-off. Barely a moment or a scene is wasted. Everything is wrapped up beautifully, although the end of the novel is hardly a case of the world being restored to order. An air of deep sadness runs through Moe’s narration, and even the twenty year gap between the investigation into Patrick and the secondary thread that runs to the late nineties fails to eliminate that touch of regret from Moe’s narration. And while there is a glimmer of hope – one that could become mawkish in the wrong hands – Coleman is a savvy enough writer to know that a glimmer is enough, that the despair and joy of life rarely balance out.

If there are problems with Walking The Perfect Square, perhaps it comes from overwriting; Coleman is a brilliant writer, but here and there the voice of this first Prager novel feels more like writing and less like natural storytelling. The narration can be dense and perhaps a little overwhelming, but does nothing to affect the overall power and beauty of the work.

But by the time Coleman brings Moe to Redemption Street, he’s got that voice down cold. Redemption Street is a far more accomplished novel, so it’s surprising to read Coleman joke in his newly written afterword that “it was the first book in history to go direct from the printer to the remainder bin”. Perhaps it was the shift of focus that surprised people. Perhaps the market wasn’t ready for a truly reflective eye; an investigative character who was every bit as fleshed out as those people whom he observed. Redemption Street feels more intensely personal – both for the author and the protagonist – than Walking the Perfect Square. Perhaps it’s the focus on Moe’s Jewish heritage – and the guilt that it brings both personally and in a far wider sense – which creates this sense. Perhaps it’s the note of longing for things long lost that plays through Moe’s search to discover what happened to that girl he crushed so deeply on in high school. Whatever it is, the energy of the writing and characterisation brings a sense of empathy to the reader that feels instantly fresh and genuine. While the Moe of Walking the Perfect Square feels almost an enigma – lost in his case, defined merely by his actions – in Redemption Street, we feel closer to him; we experience this case with him rather than through him.

By now, Moe is a more reluctant PI. He’s licensed, but he keeps his badge in a drawer. He’s looking at running a wine store. And it takes a reminder of his own past to make him think about doing anything close to the kind of work he’s licensed to do.

Threads run through from Walking the Perfect Square and seem to explode in this novel; hints dropped from the 1998 narrative are explored deeper here, and as such we feel closer to Moe; the character less distanced to us than in the first novel, where Moe was – despite his distinctive voice – more of a camera on events than an actual participatory subject.

The violence seems ramped up as well, with Moe undergoing torture both in a physical and mental fashion throughout the book. But these moments feel perfectly justified by the novel, which needs to put its protagonist through the ringer in order to achieve its goals. Would we be so attached to Moe if this investigation were a walk in the park? If he weren’t looking backwards as much as forwards?

Its rare to see a series character who develops so well over a series, and kudos to Busted Flush for allowing us to return to the roots of Moe Prager. Reading the series in sequence, we encounter a character who is allowed to grow and mature; whose world becomes clearer the more it is fractured – only when past and present collide do we ever truly understand the events that shape not only our protagonist, but those people who surround him.

Add to this a voice filled with genuine heart, that knows suffering and joy in sometimes unequal measures, and an author whose fiendishly clever plots unfold in such a low key fashion that its easy to be taken by surprise and you have one of the best modern crime series currently being written. It’s a delight to know that readers – like myself – who missed Moe the first time round will have a chance to catch up on these novels; to discover some of the best prose they’ll read in years, and a character whose evolution throughout a series feels so absolutely genuine, you’ll soon be thinking of him as an old friend.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland 30/07/08

PAYING FOR IT by Tony Black

2008-07-30T05:59:00.001-07:00

Preface Books, July ’08, 9781848090705, £16.99

We’re living in a new age of noir for the UK. Derek Raymond, Ted Lewis and their ilk were ahead of their time; they would have fitted perfectly into the new underground that is,

Ken Bruen

Ray Banks

Allan Guthrie

Charlie Williams

and others who are redefining the British crime novel and pushing it beyond the self imposed limitations formed by Christie, Rendell and PD James (to name but a few).

The reason I mention the new British noir is simple: here comes an author who reinforces the new wave, who takes the ball and runs with it hell for leather. Tony Black’s voice is clearly influenced by the madcap poetry of Bruen – replete with pop culture references, fragmentation and a bizarre stream-of-consciousness approach that may trip the unwary – but he adds on top of that an undeniably Scots accent; a way of approaching the world that is unashamedly proud of its origins and yet hardly so parochial that no one else would want to read it.

We can probably trace the new wave of Scots noir back to Ian Rankin, who straddled the line between old and new wave: popular enough to be mainstream, dark enough to add a nuance of danger to some of his works. Like Rankin, Black has created a vision of Edinburgh that is at once evocative and entirely his own. While Rankin alluded to a dark underbelly, Black embraces it utterly, shows up the true social divide in Edinburgh with a few simple phrases and an underlying subtext that attempts to show this old setting in a new dark light.

Black’s Edinburgh is a city built on its own mistakes. A city trying desperately to change with the times while glossing over its own mistakes. All the coffee bars and trendy pubs in the world cannot change a dark and violent history, and this is especially true in a place like Edinburgh where traditional Alckie haunts such as the Grassmarket area are trying to haul themselves up into the new and trendy cosmopolitan age.

It’s a struggle reflected in our protagonist, a newspaper reporter who cannot gloss over his own past no matter how hard he tries. A man with a moral compass that’s always being misled by his past, his upbringing, his innate violence. As flawed characters go, Gus Drury comes very close to a new noir stereotype in many ways – particularly his drinking – but is saved by a powerful and personal voice that cuts through the reader’s sympathy and demands a strange kind of empathy. It’s hard to say that Gus is likeable, but its fascinating to see the world through his eyes, to give full reign to the kind of cynicism that slowly pulls a man’s life apart. But there is a core to Gus that has not rotted, and there is where we find our hook into the dark world of Paying For It. Black understands that no character is all good or evil, that there exists merely shades of shadows and that a good man is one who occasionally tries to beat his worst instincts. Is there hope for a man like Gus? Undoubtedly, but it is something that is never assured, and that is what makes his journey so compelling for the reader: there are no moral guarantees here. No constants to be relied upon.

And while Black walks the line close to several noir clichés – the alcoholic lead, the evident corruption that runs through society – he does it all so convincingly, with such a strong voice that you cannot help but keep turning those pages.

Black’s debut novel is incredibly strong; an evocative, unsettling journey to the heart of darkness that is modern Scotland. It works as a psychological journey and as a thrilling descent into the criminal underworld. This is page-turning, addictive stuff from an author who looks set to garner a dedicated readership not only from fans of the UK noir movement, but from readers who will appreciate literate, witty and unsettling fiction told with a voice that demands – and deserves – your utmost attention.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland, 30/07/08

Found on the Internet 05/06/08

2008-06-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

Charlie Stella's Sixth Novel Mafiya is the latest from one of Crime Scotland's favourite writers. We've described him as "like Elmore Leonard writing an episode of the Sopranos" and with this novel, he takes a decidedly dark twist in his representation of New York's underworld.

Check it out:

THE COLD SPOT by Tom Piccirilli

2008-05-29T14:56:00.001-07:00

Bantam Press, 2008, $6.99, 9780553590845

Chase has been a getaway driver all his life. After the death of his parents, he’s been raised by his grandfather Jonah, brought up in a world of thieves and grifters and con artists. He’s a born driver, but maybe not a born criminal. After witnessing his grandfather’s dispatch of one of his own gang, Chase decides its time to get out.

He never counted on falling in love with a cop.

Building something close to a normal life.

And he really didn’t plan on having all of that taken away.

Tom Piccirilli was the man responsible for last year’s wonderful noir masterpiece, The Fever Kill, and here he turns back to the crime genre again with the incredible, The Cold Spot, a brilliantly paced revenge thriller with a genuinely human heart. When we think of getaway drivers, its easy to think of them being akin to a Parker character: cold, uninvolved and professional. Think what they tried to do with Jason Stratham’s character in the movie, The Transporter or, as a far better example, the character of Lennon in Duane Swierczynski’s The Wheel Man. And, sure, Piccirilli makes Chase an absolute professional, but here he fleshes out that archetype by giving him…

… a life.

The first half of the book, taken up as it is with Chase’s life could seem like so much unnecessary window dressing if it weren’t for the fact that Piccirilli knows how important it is to get us to understand his hero. Any good revenge drama relies on us being on the side of the revenger, understanding his psychology. It has to be more complex than some archetypal revenge fantasy a-la Deathwish if we to truly feel anything. And Piccirilli is a master at helping us to empathise with his cast. He’s been at this game a long time and even his most despicable creations seem to have been at least comprehensible to the reader. But Chase… he must be a good man at heart for this to work. We have to understand him beyond his role as Getaway Driver, and by seeing him leave the life, fall in love, build a normal existence… we are on his side. We know what he has worked for to have all of this. He has given up many things, adjusted his world view, made sacrifices and ultimately – despite his past – he deserves this quiet, peaceful, beautiful new life.

So when it is snatched away by a gang of criminals with itchy trigger fingers, we understand his rage and frustration and loss. We are right there with him. We can feel the sense of, why did this have to happen? Why wasn’t I there to stop this?

And we understand why Chase can only turn to one man for help in finding the cold spot, that place inside of him that will help take revenge like he was taking care of business. We understand why he turns to his grandfather Jonah, the man he took such great pains to leave behind in the first place.

The relationship between Chase and Jonah that takes up much of the second half of the book is a complex and unsettling double act. Jonah represents a dark side of Chase that he doesn’t want have to confront, but is something he must control and use if he is to heal those wounds inside of him. As Chase constantly walks the line between the life he wants and the life that Jonah offers, we find the central conflict of the book, and indeed of any good revenge drama: will the act of revenge change our character beyond recognition? Turn him into the very thing he is reacting against?

It’s a tension that Piccirilli exploits beautifully in the last third of the book without offering any overly easy answers or guarantees of salvation. Indeed anyone who’s read Piccirilli’s work before will know that he doesn’t offer guarantees in his stories. And that uncertainty is what keeps those pages turning.

Throw into the mix some larger themes that set the groundwork for further books in the series. As the story draws to a close, we find some answers about Chase’s life that change everything we thought we knew. We find hints of a darkness that could push him even further over the edge. This is the ideal of a series; resolve the major questions, but leave enough hanging that readers will want to follow you onto the next novel.

The Cold Spot is a gripping and powerful novel from an author who makes fans out of almost everyone who reads his work. The prose hums with a visceral energy that’ll keep you turning those pages. I finished it fast, thought about it for days afterwards. And really, there’s no better recommendation than simply: read this book. But be warned: once you hit that last page, you’ll be dying to read 2009’s The Coldest Mile.

WHAT BURNS WITHIN by Sandra Ruttan

2008-05-29T06:33:00.000-07:00

Dorchester Books, 2008, 978-0843960747

When you think of Hardboiled, you probably don’t think of Vancouver. Canada never seems – to us outsiders at any rate – like a crimewave kind of country. But if there’s an author determined to buck the trend, its Sandra Ruttan. While her debut novel, Suspicious Circumstances was set in the US, Ruttan now moves the action north to her homeland, with gripping results. A missing child and a serial aronist would give give most cops nightmares. But for three Vancouver detectives, mere nightmares might seem a picnic compared to what they’ll be facing as they attempt to bring justice to the streets of their city.

What Burns Within marks the first of a sequence of novels set among the Vancouver police department, focussing specifically on three officers whose lives and cases are about to become seriously twisted. The focus is – befitting Ruttan’s strengths – on character and a great deal of effort has gone into ensuring the cast of What Burns Within live and breathe beyond the page. As is always the case, some people stick with you more than others. Here, its Detective Ashlyn Hart who seems to steal the show. Perhaps in part because she has some of the most difficult choices to make, but she emerges as the standout of the central trio of characters by evoking a genuine sense of empathy with the reader.

But while Ruttan is a natural for sketching tough and believable characters, she doesn’t allow her writing to rest on that alone. Anyone writing procedure has to ensure that the reader is convinced by the investigation, and its here that Ruttan’s smart approach shines. Subtle touches add authenticity to proceedings. Little things, such as the way she refuses to let her cop protagonists into a burned out building, something that some authors would be tempted to fudge for the sake of “poetic licence”. But Ruttan works hard to find unique ways to overcome these problems. One particular scene involving Lt Hart, a bucket lift and one heckuva scary drop emerges as particularly memorable.

The plot itself is often heartwrenching. Placing a child at the centre of a story is often a cheap way of tugging at the heartstrings, but Ruttan manages to mix in the emotional with the realistic, a ploy immediately brought into play with the opening scene that sees a girl losing her younger brother at a fairground. The scene plays with a kind of realistic childhood – not too cute, not too cynical – and there’s a feeling of deep unease by the end of the scene that is paid off in spades as the book progresses. Ruttan plays about with innocence and guilt in unexpected ways, and nuances even her young cast in such a way that the children are far more than mere ciphers or metaphors in the way many writers would use them.

It’s rare that a writer can combine character and procedural effectively, but Ruttan manages to create an emotionally invested thriller that also feels grounded in real – if somewhat dramatic – policework. The attention to detail helps add weight to the fictional world Ruttan has created. And while there are certain near obligatory investigative scenes included, the details and the characters move them beyond standard set pieces. In fact, Ruttan offers a kind of unpredictability that is rare in standard procedurals. While heroes are often complex characters, it is rare that we think they might not solve the case or save the day. Here, Ruttan manages to manipulate her audience into a kind of uncertainty over how events might turn out, and in doing so creates an air of realism that solidifies the novel and its world.

It helps that Ruttan’s smooth style – far more confident here than in her debut – flows particularly well, creating the kind rhythm that grips the reader and keeps them flipping those pages. Pace and style count for a lot, and What Burns Within has both in spades.

Ruttan combines devilishly clever plots with genuinely empathic characters. What Burns Within is a taught, confidently told character-led thriller, with Ruttan’s natural style shining through. And when you turn that last page, you’ll be itching for more from not simply the author herself, but the intriguing cast… who are begging for further exploration, and are slated to return in the second novel, The Frailty of Flesh.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com, 29/05/08

Found on the internet 29/05/08

2008-05-29T06:30:00.000-07:00

Tony Black's excellent debut novel, Paying For It has its own trailer which we ripped from youtube for your viewing pleasure.

A review is coming soon.

A Double Dose of Stuart MacBride

2008-05-29T06:16:00.001-07:00

Sawbones by Stuart MacBride, Barrington Stoke, £5.99, 978-1842995297, July 2008

Flesh House by Stuart MacBride, HarperCollins, £12,99, 978-0007244546, May 2008

As much as we love series characters here at Crime Scene Scotland, it’s always nice to see an author taking a break. Even one akin to a weekend getaway such as Stuart MacBride’s novella, Sawbones.

Like Allan Guthrie’s Kill Clock before it, Sawbones is a book written for “emerging readers”. This entails a set of guidelines about the language and style used in the book, but the story itself must be engaging to an adult audience.

And Macbride knows about writing for adults.

Moving from his usual stomping grounds of Aberdeen and out into the wilds of America, MacBride seems to be relishing the opportunity to truly let himself go. The sheer joy of throwing out the “McRae” rulebook is evident from the opening pages where we’re right in the head of a mafia thug about to kill a cop. But, see, he’s got his reasons. They’re out looking for the boss’s daughter. Who’s been abducted. By a serial killer.

Looking for nice guys in this novella?

They’re few and far between.

Which is what gives the book its appeal. While Stuart rarely makes his Grampian Police into perfect heroes, he has rarely been allowed to let himself go so completely as here. There is a core of – somewhat twisted – morality to the two goons out on the road, and the killer himself… well, you ain’t finding no sympathy here. Sure, he’s a little bit of the loony-tunes cliché, but as ever MacBride is having fun playing with archetypes and the killer is recognisably an archetype – with his bible bashing and woman-hating – but still very chilling indeed. But these are characters with the kind of screwed morality that makes them truly fascinating. And the protagonists are decidedly anti-heroes in the best possible sense of the word.

But it’s the pacing that works here, and with brevity being the soul of wit, MacBride’s lean and muscular novella doesn’t give the reader time to breathe. The pages turn fast and easy, and while the storytelling is relatively straightforward, MacBride never panders to his audience, creating a taut and terrifying tale that roars across the dusty highways of the US in a blood-soaked Winnebago.

And with his wanderlust somewhat satisfied, it means that MacBride can then return – with batteries recharged – to his familiar homeground of Aberdeen. Yes, we’re back with DS McRae and, yes, Grampian police are – despite the warnings from DI Steele – most definitely at home to Mr Fuck Up.

It’s the sheer energy of his work that makes MacBride’s homegrown procedurals shine. If were in any doubt before, then Broken Skin confirmed that the world of McRae and co is a hyper-realised one, where a grim and black humour permeates near every sentence.

And with Flesh House, the humour is grim indeed.

More than any ever MacBride novel before it, the violence here is fairly explicit. Its been enough to turn some early readers vegetarian, but MacBride manages the fairly neat trick of offsetting the violence with gallows humour while never cheapening the loss of life.

In MacBride’s world, almost a decade earlier, Aberdeen was plagued by a killer known simple as “The Flesher”. A man who ate human flesh, slaughtered people like farm animals. And was finally arrested by Grampian Police. But now he’s out on bail… and the killing’s started again.

There’s something very chilling about MacBride’s latest novel, and the tension is ratcheted up superbly with a number of subtle red herrings laid in place. But the crime itself is not what impresses itself upon the reader; rather it’s the movement of the characters in MacBride’s world. With Steele given her chance to shine in Broken Skin, this time we see a whole new side to sweetie-munching DI Insch, who manages to both repel and engage the reader within the space of a single sentence. Its hard to say much without giving the game away, but MacBride is savvy enough to throw life-changing events at his characters without pressing a red reset button at the end of the tale, something that happens all too often in series fiction.

If there’s anything wrong, its that Logan McRae himself gets short shrift, with some intriguing personal developments getting lip service, but barely making inroads to the plot. Of course, even in a book this size, some concessions must be made, but the relationship between McRae and Jackie Watson which had a dramatic shift at the end of Broken Skin seems to be pushed into the background when it seems like some very interesting developments may have taken place.

But, what’s important is that Flesh House moves fast and furious – surprisingly so for such a hefty novel – and is genuinely engrossing, replete with moments of gallows humour that relieve the intensity of some scenes. This is a novel that doesn’t let up from the word go, and its almost surprising that MacBride can retain that incredible pace through the novel. Perhaps because, even if he is working within the McRae rulebook, he’s still finding ways to try and subvert the traditions he’s writing in. There are shifts towards the horror genre as one character breaks down almost entirely, and MacBride shows that despite his occasional broad strokes – the early characterisation of Insch in books one and two is a fine example – he can do very a very convincing and unnerving psychological portrait of his cast, and he seems to be at his very best when he puts the characters right at the very limits of their endurance. Witness not just Insch here, but also a character who finds herself at the very heart (if you’ll pardon what could be construed as a pun) of The Flesher’s scheme.

MacBride has, in four books, established himself a writer with a style and voice that distinguish him from the herd. His books are procedurals in form, but he manages to give them an edge that pulls in those readers who would usually be reluctant to read novels given that label. It’s the Scots humour, the sheer ballsiness of his approach to the genre and the fact that he somehow gives these large novels a momentum that propels the reader through the twists and turns without once giving them pause for breath.

If you haven’t read MacBride, we say: go and read him. Today. But, if you’re unprepared for that Aberdeen weather, we might just recommend an umberella.

Small disclaimer: eagle eyed and cynical readers will notice Russel D McLean’s name appear briefly in Flesh House. This was a fact unknown to the reviewer before he started reading and while he is always immensely flattered by such things, it does not prevent him from approaching the novel with his usual steely intensity.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com, 29/05/08