Scottish Crime Fiction With Art/Heart, THE GOLDENACRE by Philip Miller

In a collaboration with Penguin, Soho Crime has now brought out an American printing of THE GOLDENACRE, a deeply mournful novel of art crime and greed, set in today's Edinburgh, Scotland. Denise Mina, the doyen of "tartan noir," calls the book a riveting, brutal journey into the high stakes world of inherited art and wealth, and it can certainly be read that way. But if your season allows time to enter Philip Miller's novel slowly, there is a wealth of literary depth to savor as well.

Two principal points of view dominate: that of sardonic reporter Shona Sandison, seeing her lifelong career at the Edinburgh Post melting away as digital platforms take over the news business, and that of the rather ineffective Thomas Tallis, designated to authenticate the provenance of a work of art called "The Goldenacre." The painting, fabulously valuable, is being donated to the Scottish government in lieu of back taxes owed by the mansion-rich, cash-poor family that owns it. Thomas needs to verify that it's really "the last precious work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, the artist and architect" -- and sign off on the deal.

But Thomas is hesitant, uncertain, a weak reed in many ways. Which makes him almost the total opposite of his father, Sir Raymond T. Tallis, former deputy director of MI6. 

Thomas Tallis hasn't had much of his father's attention, and he's not getting family support right now, either. In fact, despite a small son in common, his wife seems to be divorcing him and taking the boy, and Thomas is doing nothing about it, despite enormous pain and grief. Slowly this comes into focus as a parallel to the wistfulness of the painting -- which portrays a pastoral area of Edinburgh still known as the Goldenacre. So when a hint of impropriety reaches him about the painting, this too is something he fails to take much action on.

Shona Sandison, though, is already linking the pieces, including the death (murder?) of a local artist, and the mysterious circumstances behind Thomas's recent change of jobs.

And then poor Thomas receives a very threatening message in the form of a human body part.

His collapse comes amid shimmering descriptions of Edinburgh, where he'd lived as a child. When he finds himself needing a drink, he knows to abandon the modern commercial part of the city:

There had been a place he had gone to as a boy. He would go there: the bend in the river. In the town where he had been sent to school, there were woods that followed the river up to its source A mile outside the town, the river—wide and slow—slowly turned. There was a beach on the slow side of the bend, and a broken viaduct. There, the shadows of the trees plunged into moving water and oaks grew. There was cool shade in the summer, and in winter the river ran swollen, and covered the shingle beach. He dreamt of it often.

Stepping back into his dreams, Thomas loses his grasp on the threats around him, and what to do about them. It's just as well, considering what takes place when the paired movements of this art investigator and the investigative journalist put pressure onto the major crime being organized around them.

There are several strands to the book's conclusion, and one might quibble with the forcing of some aspects. Yet it's undeniably a powerful and enjoyable read, and places Miller among the must-read authors who bind the tragedy of their crimes to Scotland's cities and feudal history.

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

What Happens When You Add Ian Rankin to William McIlvanney and Get "Laidlaw 4"!

 

[originally published at New York Journal of Books]

“Reading The Dark Remains yields far more than the strangely amazing and touching answer to ‘what if you combined crime noir geniuses McIlvanney and Rankin?’”

The evolution of The Dark Remains is highly unusual for the crime fiction field, where an author’s death and incomplete manuscript often leads to completion of the writing by someone less well known, scrambling to climb the ladder.

In this case, the half-written book found after William McIlvanney’s death in 2015 landed in the hands of acknowledged master of Scottish noir, Ian Rankin. McIlvanney’s Laidlaw novels, set in Glasgow, provided fertile ground for Rankin’s own development of the Detective Inspector Rebus investigations, set in Edinburgh.

Now the master, in collecting and completing this work, provides an unusual act of generosity to the dead.

The Dark Remains is a prequel to McIlvanney’s Laidlaw books. Jack Laidlaw is the “new boy” in the Glasgow Crime Squad, taking his seat in a season when shady and money-grubbing criminal lawyer Bobby Carter lands in an alley, dead. As Bob Lilley admits on the side to the Crime Squad’s Commander, “Jack Laidlaw is not an unknown quantity, sir. His reputation has always preceded him, which I’m guessing is why we’ve been landed with him. Who has he rubbed up the wrong way this month?”

In short, Laidlaw is no team player. But as the Commander points out, “He’s good at the job, seems to have a sixth sense for what’s happening on the streets.”

Even-tempered Bob Lilley’s got a tough job in “babysitting” this new member of the squad. From the moment the Bobby Carter case goes active, Laidlaw rejects all routine assignments (like going house to house) and heads directly for Glasgow’s underworld, which he already understands. Like the two (or is it three?) criminal gangs wrestling for control of territory and resources, and those who may want to promote a crime war.

In this occasionally off-balance volume, commentary from Lilley fills gaps around the investigation’s action. That slows the pace. But it also allows a peek at how current master author Rankin views the original character, as Lilley analyzes Laidlaw: “Maybe he’s a streetsman, the way Davy Crockett was a woodsman. Davy could read all the signs in the wild, he’d lived there so long. Probably wasn’t so good on the domestic front. I think Jack’s like that with Glasgow: he brings the city home with him, and that’s too much for even a decent-sized living room to contain.”

As the strands of gang action are slowly sorted out (with more murder, of course), Laidlaw’s marriage circles the drain. Compared to his work, his family life is tame, mundane, boring—and Lilley takes warning from his colleague’s domestic peril.

Even McIlvanney probably didn’t write “from beginning to end” without changes—so a lot of what Rankin received was likely to be far from finished work. The shorter paragraphs, less deep descriptions, and uneven pace (compared to classic McIlvanney) all suggest exactly that. So reading The Dark Remains yields far more than the strangely amazing and touching answer to “what if you combined crime noir geniuses McIlvanney and Rankin?”

Instead, it presents an unusual sort of time travel: not to the start of McIlvanney’s astonishing career in writing the darkness, but rather to the basic bones of how he shaped a Laidlaw investigation, working from crime victim, to criminals, to the rough and imperiled moral universe in Jack Laidlaw’s mind and heart.

Near the end, Lilley again responds to the Commander about how Laidlaw’s working out in the squad, and what could lie ahead: “He’s the business. … He’s a one-off in a world of mass production. He’s not a copper who happens to be a man. He’s a man who happens to be a copper, and he carries that weight with him everywhere he goes. … Mind you,” he felt it necessary to quality, “he can be a pain in the bahookie too, but it’s a price worth paying.”

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Treasures from Alexander McCall Smith, in PIANOS AND FLOWERS, a Book of Stories

Perhaps your high school teacher gave you the assignment: Here's a photo—write a short story based on it. Poets do it often, and even have a name for when the image is actually artwork. The resulting poem is described as ekphrastic.

But when Alexander McCall Smith tackled a similar assignment a year or so ago, he accepted a selection of photos from the archives of The Sunday Times and created a world of affection and often loss around each of them. The result, including some that were published in the newspaper, became his newest stand-alone book: PIANOS AND FLOWERS, BRIEF ENCOUNTERS OF THE ROMANTIC KIND.

Some meander from one person in the photo to the next, tracing the odd connections of our lives; some tell love stories; and my favorite of the 14 of them is "I'd Cry Buckets," which opens with a photo of two young men waking with a pack horse that in turn is carrying a dead deer (or, as it's called in England, a stag). The opening is evocative:

The sweep of the hills. The burn tumbling joyously across the rock. The pony sure-footed but scared of moving water, picking his way gingerly under the burden of the dead stag. And the two boys, who were sixteen, and who were tired from being up on the hill since six that morning when it was still chill and misty and not quite yet light. They had two uncomfortable house to go before they would be back at the lodge.

Bruce, the boy in front, checks that David is all right, in a conversation that stays determinedly on the mundane at first -- until David asks, "Do animals ever think they're going to die?"

The teens continue this pattern of surface discussion with abrupt deep moments, and it gradually becomes clear that they share some secret knowledge of each other, in a protective fashion. Of course they grow up and take divergent paths, only to meet during wartime, aware again of each other's interiors in ways they choose to silence. In tiny details, Smith allows a slow recognition that the bond between the two is deeper than friendship. And trembles under the weight of knowing that death comes to everyone, not just the stag on the ridge.

The wide variety of images, and hence of characters that Smith breathes life into, takes him far deeper than his usual mystery series have time to probe, with a lush descriptive narrative that depends on and interacts with the small photos provided. PIANOS AND FLOWERS evokes a tenderness founded in shared human pain and delight, and demonstrates that the big things in life are grown from the small one, treasured and gathered and finally, in meticulous description, known and loved.

Order two copies: one for your own shelf of Pandemic Relief, and one for a person you care about.

PS: Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

British Crime Fiction by Michael J. Malone, IN THE ABSENCE OF MIRACLES

Families. They have their noisy dysfunctions and their quiet secrets, but for the most part, they manage to get along. Until something in that managing snaps, with devastating consequences.

That's the situation in John Docherty's family, in the new crime novel from British/Scottish author Michael J. Malone, IN THE ABSENCE OF MIRACLES. John's mother's stroke won't let her go home again from nursing care, and John, clearing the house in order to put it on the market, discovers enough evidence to realize that his mother and father -- a police detective -- have hidden something he had every right to know: He is not the oldest child in his family, after all.

How much should he dig into this secret, with his mother so ill, and his father already dead? Will it only cause pain? His father's old friend, also in a nursing home, suggests as much:

"If you'll excuse an old man for speaking out of turn ..." He paused while another cough wracked his frail form. "I loved your old dad like a brother. He was a fine, fine man," he said as if he was keen to offer me something, without breaking any promises. "You need to go, son, before I say too much. But think on this: only an eejit runs away from the present by burying himself in the past."

Malone tips the point of view occasionally to that of John's own good friend Paul, who cautiously asks whether John ever suffered abuse as a child. John's answer is a firm "no" and he has no doubts. It's only Paul's odd question that unsettles him.

But John's a broken-winged creature in life, unable to keep his own promises to an important girlfriend and uneasy in his teaching career. In order to discover whether he really once had an older brother who has vanished, and to confront the long-buried demons of his soul, he and his allies will have to pull off the covers of terrible crimes, proving emphatically that the past isn't even past -- it's what shapes us now. And, short of a miracle, opening up the dark passages can be deadly.

Malone's far better known in Britain than in the US, but thanks to Orenda Books, readers can now access his award-winning crime fiction. When you visit this website, be sure to dig down a layer and sample the powerful range of his work.

Best of all, despite the horrific crimes that Docherty discovers (fair warning: some are sexual, but the book's so well written that it's bearable), IN THE ABSENCE OF MIRACLES is equally a tale of heart and friendship. Near the end of the book, John Docherty's painful realizations also generate this thought: "It's kindness that brings us back to ourselves."

Highly recommended, and released for publication in the US today.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here. 

Scottish Noir from T. Frank Muir, THE MEATING ROOM

I've enjoyed the very dark and well crafted St Andrews, Scotland, mysteries of T. Frank Muir; two of them came my way via Soho Crime (Hand for a Hand; Tooth for a Tooth). I've no idea why the latest to cross the Atlantic, THE MEATING ROOM, came out from Academy Chicago (Chicago Review Press) this month, but I grabbed the book and dove right in, checking out the investigation led by DCI Andy Gilchrist.

And it's a doozy. A wealthy property developer, Thomas Magner, loses his business partner to apparent suicide, at the same time that the partner's family is murdered. The connection looks obvious -- the suicide is remorse driven, right? But Gilchrist's partner DS Jessie Janes raises some initial doubts, and soon Gilchrist has his own. Still, it's hard to investigate Magner because any added attention to him looks like bias: He's already been charged with multiple sexual assaults. When the women who'd accused Magner begin either recanting or dying, Gilchrist and Janes race the clock to find both evidence and witnesses they can count on.

Back in the Office, Gilchrist's mobile rang -- a number he did not recognize.

He made the connection.

"DI Smith here, sir. Sorry to trouble you again, but I thought you should know that they're dropping like flies."

Gilchrist understood immediately. "Who is it this time?"

"Abbott, Warren, and Williamson. All by phone again."

"Reasons?"

"More or less the same. Jenna Abbott said she didn't want to go to court or even give her testimony. ... Change of heart."

Alert readers will know, early on, that the unfolding crimes are likely to increase in graphic gruesomeness. (The title also suggests this.) So, reader beware ... it's going to be tough. But Muir's deft exploration of how his investigators will react to the increasing pressure on them (including in Andy Gilchrist's private life) ramps the suspense up swiftly, and I didn't want to put the book down until the finale. Scottish aspects? Not many -- mostly a good modern British-style crime novel, well paced and well written.

Read one Muir, and you may well want to read some others -- but you don't need to cover these in sequence. Good stuff.

PS:  Looking for more mystery reviews, from cozy to very dark? Browse the Kingdom Books mysteries review blog here.

Maine Murder Mystery, THE SCOTTIE BARKED AT MIDNIGHT, Kaitlyn Dunnett

This new mystery from Kaitlyn Dunnett (a pseudonym for Kathy Lynn Emerson) is a keeper -- a lively and all-too-believable escapade in the chill of March in still-snowy Maine. And if some of the characters are a little wilder than real (the woman with the python? the stage magician and his charming assistant?), the sense of performance is intentional: They're on a very much staged reality TV show.

Somehow (and you do know how these things happen, admit it), Liss McCrimmon's rescue of a charming Scottish terrier on an icy highway leads to her impulsive agreement to help this terrier -- and a second one, and their owner -- to complete a set of performances on "Variety Live." Subbing for the trainer/owner in the act of "Deirdre and her Dancing Doggies" ought to be a pleasure for Liss. She's a retired Highlands dancer herself, loves the dogs at first sight, and can easily take some time away from her shop in tiny Moosetookalook, Maine, at this time of year.

But while Liss soon realizes that the dog's previous owner may have been murdered, it takes a dangerously long time for her to put enough pieces together to see that the killer may come after her as well!

Kaitlyn Dunnett provides a fresh new twist to her series, and shows that she's getting better and better ... nicely twisted plot, great pacing, characters who are unforgettable, and the charm of the friendly dogs to round it all out. Count on Liss's hunk of a hubby, Dan, to back her up, with support from her best friends, too. THE SCOTTIE BARKED AT MIDNIGHT is the perfect "amateur sleuth" mystery to curl up with on a chilly late-autumn or winter's night. From Kensington Books, of course, adding to the shelves of this publisher's diverse and enjoyable "cozies."