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3.81 AVERAGE
3.81 AVERAGE
As influential in the tartan noir movement this novel was, it was just a little not as polished or revolutionary as I thought it would be. It's also another dead girl mystery novel, which I'm pretty much over at this point.
In 1966, Scottish novelist, poet and essayist William McIlvanney (1936-2015) won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize for his debut novel Remedy is None. In 1975, he won the Whitbread Novel Award for Docherty, a gritty piece of historical fiction about a Scottish mining family in the early 20th Century. Having thus been anointed as a “literary” writer, the publication of crime novel Laidlaw in 1977 came as a surprise, if not a shock. What was McIlvanney doing, putting his literary credentials at risk by writing a detective novel? Laidlaw would be followed by two other instalments in a trilogy featuring the eponymous Glasgow detective, establishing his creator (with the benefit of hindsight) as the father of “tartan noir”, an ongoing inspiration for the likes of Ian Rankin and Val McDermid. The reaction to the publication of the novel in the 1970s, however, shows that a certain suspicion towards “genre fiction” has long been an unsavoury aspect of the literary world. Reading Laidlaw, on the other hand, proves that why this snobbery is completely off the mark.
At face value, the novel is a tribute to both the American “hardboiled” genre and to Continental fiction (a là Simenon), with which it shares several recognisable tropes. A young woman is sexually assaulted and brutally murdered in Glasgow and D.I. Jack Laidlaw is assigned to the case. Laidlaw, who keeps “Kierkegaard, Camus and Unamuno” hidden in a drawer in his desk “like caches of alcohol”, is an eccentric figure with unusual investigative methods, “a potentially violent man who hates violence”. When constable Harkness is asked by his superiors to partner up with Laidlaw, he is expected not just to help the older detective but also to report on him and keep his wilder behaviour in check. The case leads the duo through the seedy underbelly of Glasgow, where Laidlaw enjoys the grudging respect of dubious figures. But the “polis” are not the only once seeking the murderer. The relatives of the victim are looking for him to avenge her death, whilst criminals associated with him want him out of the way because of the unwelcome attention the crime has brought to their activities. The investigation turns into a race against time, with the murderer in danger of becoming the new victim.
Despite its nods to the genre, McIlvanney brings to this novel some idiosyncratic twists. One of them is the setting – no longer an American metropolis, or London (another “capital” of crime fiction) but 1970s Glasgow with which Laidlaw (and possibly, his creator) seems to have a love-hate relationship. The Glaswegian backdrop is evoked not only through the descriptions within the novel, but also through the judicious use of dialect.
Then there’s the plot. Unlike your typical whodunnit, the murderer is revealed quite early on, as is his motive. The reader’s pleasure does not derive from the unmasking of the perpetrator but, rather, from learning how Laidlaw will get to his man and from a curiosity as to whether others will get to the ‘prey’ before he does. This is as much of a thriller as a “detective” novel.
Laidlaw also gives McIlvanney the opportunity to explore the same socialist themes which underlie his other “non-crime” work. The conversations between the inspector and an increasingly respectful Harkness give voice to pithy social commentary which lays bare the bigotry (whether fuelled by class, religion or other factors) within the world McIlvanney portrays.
What gives Laidlaw is peculiar style, however, is its use of language – the unlikely, yet arresting, images which pepper the text. The victim’s father has a face which looks “like an argument you couldn’t win”. The police mortuary is “the tradesmen’s entrance to the Court”, where “the raw materials of justice” are delivered, “corpses that are precipitates of strange experience, alloys of fear and hate and anger and love and viciousness and bewilderment, that the Court will take and refine into comprehension”. Laidlaw is sickened when he realises that “the first law is real estate, and people are its property”. This is crime fiction, but it is also poetry.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/03/laidlaw-by-william-McIlvanney-Canongate.html
At face value, the novel is a tribute to both the American “hardboiled” genre and to Continental fiction (a là Simenon), with which it shares several recognisable tropes. A young woman is sexually assaulted and brutally murdered in Glasgow and D.I. Jack Laidlaw is assigned to the case. Laidlaw, who keeps “Kierkegaard, Camus and Unamuno” hidden in a drawer in his desk “like caches of alcohol”, is an eccentric figure with unusual investigative methods, “a potentially violent man who hates violence”. When constable Harkness is asked by his superiors to partner up with Laidlaw, he is expected not just to help the older detective but also to report on him and keep his wilder behaviour in check. The case leads the duo through the seedy underbelly of Glasgow, where Laidlaw enjoys the grudging respect of dubious figures. But the “polis” are not the only once seeking the murderer. The relatives of the victim are looking for him to avenge her death, whilst criminals associated with him want him out of the way because of the unwelcome attention the crime has brought to their activities. The investigation turns into a race against time, with the murderer in danger of becoming the new victim.
Despite its nods to the genre, McIlvanney brings to this novel some idiosyncratic twists. One of them is the setting – no longer an American metropolis, or London (another “capital” of crime fiction) but 1970s Glasgow with which Laidlaw (and possibly, his creator) seems to have a love-hate relationship. The Glaswegian backdrop is evoked not only through the descriptions within the novel, but also through the judicious use of dialect.
Then there’s the plot. Unlike your typical whodunnit, the murderer is revealed quite early on, as is his motive. The reader’s pleasure does not derive from the unmasking of the perpetrator but, rather, from learning how Laidlaw will get to his man and from a curiosity as to whether others will get to the ‘prey’ before he does. This is as much of a thriller as a “detective” novel.
Laidlaw also gives McIlvanney the opportunity to explore the same socialist themes which underlie his other “non-crime” work. The conversations between the inspector and an increasingly respectful Harkness give voice to pithy social commentary which lays bare the bigotry (whether fuelled by class, religion or other factors) within the world McIlvanney portrays.
What gives Laidlaw is peculiar style, however, is its use of language – the unlikely, yet arresting, images which pepper the text. The victim’s father has a face which looks “like an argument you couldn’t win”. The police mortuary is “the tradesmen’s entrance to the Court”, where “the raw materials of justice” are delivered, “corpses that are precipitates of strange experience, alloys of fear and hate and anger and love and viciousness and bewilderment, that the Court will take and refine into comprehension”. Laidlaw is sickened when he realises that “the first law is real estate, and people are its property”. This is crime fiction, but it is also poetry.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/03/laidlaw-by-william-McIlvanney-Canongate.html
Ein guter Krimi, all die Straßen, in die ich mich in diesem Sommer verliebt habe und die schottische Stimme des Autoren. Ein perfektes Hörbuch!
A good thriller, all the streets, into which I fell in love with this summer and the Scottish voice of the author. A perfect audiobook!
A good thriller, all the streets, into which I fell in love with this summer and the Scottish voice of the author. A perfect audiobook!
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
dark
mysterious
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I liked this complex and well written story, it's gripping and entertaining.
Even if it's not recently written it aged well and I liked the plot, the characters and the solid mystery.
Recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine.
Even if it's not recently written it aged well and I liked the plot, the characters and the solid mystery.
Recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine.
A gutsy crime novel with some strong characters and believable story line.
A good solid police procedure, with a flawed eponymous detective, this is a book of its time,1977.
Wow. Wow. Wow. What a fantastic book. The writing is divine, like a box of chocolates - every sentence a delicious morsel.
The story is of a Scottish police inspector, Jack Laidlaw, who is detested by others on the force because he is more of a gray area kind of guy, rather than everything is black and white. He is searching for the killer of a teenage girl and we follow him, the perpetrator, and various underworld bigwigs and smallwigs as they deal with the aftermath of the killing.
But it is the marvelous writing that grabbed me and never let me go. Examples: "He was drinking too much - not for pleasure, just sipping it systematically, like low proof hemlock." "His wasn't a face for forgetting. Angry, it belonged on a medieval church." And, as they are Scottish, there is a lot of local flavor, like "Ah jist thought Ah wid ask." But my favorite is a description of a very drunk man as having reached the "pint of no return."
I can't recommend Laidlaw enough. Go out and get it today.
The story is of a Scottish police inspector, Jack Laidlaw, who is detested by others on the force because he is more of a gray area kind of guy, rather than everything is black and white. He is searching for the killer of a teenage girl and we follow him, the perpetrator, and various underworld bigwigs and smallwigs as they deal with the aftermath of the killing.
But it is the marvelous writing that grabbed me and never let me go. Examples: "He was drinking too much - not for pleasure, just sipping it systematically, like low proof hemlock." "His wasn't a face for forgetting. Angry, it belonged on a medieval church." And, as they are Scottish, there is a lot of local flavor, like "Ah jist thought Ah wid ask." But my favorite is a description of a very drunk man as having reached the "pint of no return."
I can't recommend Laidlaw enough. Go out and get it today.
dark
funny
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The book which inspired some of my favourite crime writers. It's a big label to live up to, and as I often find to be true the high expectations meant that I didn't enjoy this book as much as I'd hoped to.
Laidlaw is a Glasgow police detective. He doesn't fit the normal mould. He's interested in the why as much as the who, and isn't afraid to go against the grain to get to the heart of an investigation. He does gets results thought, which is why he's given the freedom to pursue his own enquiry, apart from the main one, into the death of a young woman. The victim is the daughter of a man on the fringes of Glasgow's gangland culture, and Laidlaw finds himself walking the line between working with the hard men looking to find the culprit, and trying to ensure that the murderer survives to fact justice.
It's easy to see why McIlvanney's detective inspired the likes of Ian Rankin, Denise Mina and Val McDermid. This is a detective who plays outside the rules, but all for the greater good. He has a respectful but cautious relationship with some of Glasgow's underworld, which lets him get to the people who would never normally speak to the police.
However, having read the authors who followed in these footsteps this feels like quite a basic story in comparison. This is the first of a trilogy of books about Laidlaw, with a fourth - a prequel - due for release later this year written by Ian Rankin based on notes and outlines McIlvanney wrote before he died. It was with a view to reading that fourth book that I read this first one. I will try books two and three and hope that it grows on me enough to try the new book when it comes out, but I'm not in a hurry.