McIlvanney’s Glasgow is a bleak place, with violence never far beneath the surface, fuelled by drink and prejudice. A place of contradictions, where love exists but doesn’t flourish, where loyalty is a product of fear and betrayal is met with uncompromising brutality. Laidlaw is our everyman, our observer – a player, yes, and a flawed one, but with an understanding of humanity that allows him to look beyond events to their causes, and to empathise where others condemn. There’s a lot to like in this book. The plot is engrossing and intriguing, it’s well written in a style as gritty as the city. Laidlaw is likeable and fascinating. He’s bleak, abrasive and a paradox of a man and not easy to live with as his wife Ena will attest. I really like his brand of philosophy which is his own and therefore unique! Harkness is a good character too and the pair develop a bond based on insults. There are some excellent analogies in the storytelling and some very good descriptions. There are nice touches of wry humour which provides a contrast to the bleak story and to some of the harshest characters and there’s very realistic and colourful dialogue between them. The book build well to a dramatic conclusion. This is a Scottish Noir written and set in the 70s. Although not a contemporary story, it has aged well. The characters are skillfully written and have stood the test of time. The plot is a bit complex, but becomes easier to understand the more you read.

There was an occasion many years ago when, cutting a long story short, I found myself in a pub in the East End of Glasgow (regarded as the less salubrious part of that city). The night before a man had been shot whilst sitting in a stationary car in the same locality, in what looked like a gangland-style killing. There was a TV in the pub and a newsreader was covering the story, ending the report with the words “Police have yet to confirm the identity of the victim”. This prompted a burst of laughter from the locals, one of whom shouted “Aye, well WE know who he is”.Mr. Rankin is most well known for his Inspector Rebus novels usually set in Edinburgh. His Rebus stories are notable contributions to the tartan noir genre. Undoubtedly impressive, I should probably have read this before I did (though thanks to my Mum for pushing me to read it!) this certainly stood up to all the praise and all the critical acclaim with respect to the importance of this novel in the Tartan noir genre. I am certainly looking forward to reading the remaining two in the series - this has all of the cleverness, gritty description, convincingness and style that I find most enjoyable about the Scottish crime that I read. It was an immersive yet relatively short experience - honed and contained and impactful. Maybe there is an extra frisson in reading mysteries set in places you've been to, that are familiar on more than tourist terms - perhaps that's why I haven't loved some of the Scandis as much as expected. This is a book that feels so much of its city, the cast of toughs and of working-class characters who are far sharper and more intellectual than southerners would ever have assumed on hearing the accent; the spartanness that seems in the very flesh of the place even whilst it's debauching; and the sectarianism (something I heard about more than saw) which makes its first cunning appearance through simile: still following the relentless parade of his own thoughts, like an Orange March nobody dare cut across. Set in the late 1970s, this is the Glasgow of my youth and I found it reeked of authenticity. The language, the attitudes, the hard-drinking culture centred around the city’s pubs, the humour and bravado that defended against the ever-present threat of violence – all more extreme in the book (since I didn’t mingle too much with the underworld!) but all very recognisable. And, sad to say, the sectarianism and homophobia were as present in the real world as in the book.* Knight errant of the Crime Squad, she reflected bitterly. The trouble was, it occurred to her, that with him you never knew whether you were the maiden or the dragon.

One feature is the extent to which the perspective switches. At some point we see the world through the eyes of almost every character. It’s extremely effective, and some of the scenes are very powerful, one in particular when family and neighbours gather in the house of the victim, men in one room, women in another. Most novels in this category tend to offer good guys and bad guys. McIlvanney refuses to offer the reader that comfortable choice. The character in the book who receives the most negative portrayal, and the most enmity from Laidlaw, is one of his fellow policemen. That character is someone who divides the world into good and evil, and Laidlaw detests him for that. William McIlvanney ο Ian Ranking και κατά την άποψη μου, το ολοκλήρωσε με επιτυχία, μιας και υπάρχει συνοχή στην ανάπτυξη του ιδιαίτερου χαρακτήρα του Λέιντλο. Το πρώτο ίσως δείγμα ενός tartan noir με έναν αντι-ήρωα που κάνει αυτό που θέλει χωρίς να το δικαιολογεί. Οι λάτρεις του Ian Ranking κι όχι μόνο θα το λατρέψουν μιας κι είναι ευκολοδιαβαστο. The technique of indirect presentation works very well, with the aided bonus of also easing the reader into the more unsavoury elements of Glasgow criminal gangs ('tearaways' in the local jargon). There are several more changes in the point of view, done in an unobtrusive and convincing way, mostly fleshing out secondary characters like the girl's abusive father, the mentally unbalanced killer, several bosses and underlings of what looks to me a criminal structure almost as well organized as the infamous Mob.E sono gli anni Settanta: oltre bere a tutte le ore e ovunque, si fuma ovunque e a tutte le ore, i telefoni sono fissi e alcuni funzionano inserendo monete, quelli cellulari non sono neppure nell’aria. Ask no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” and ”I did what needed doing.” give perfect insight into Laidlaw’s character.