I have to admit—being a Yank, an America, one of those—that I didn't realize the significance of the title until I was well into it. We call it Tic-Tac-Toe out here, a name that is relatively meaningless, and I believe I like "Noughts and Crosses" much better since it actually represents the characters being played. Also, it would have let me in on the clever play-on-words that is this title.

I was recommended this book by a salesman who calls me every once in a while at work to see if I would like to purchase his products (I never have) and I assumed he was just being friendly (which he usually is); however when I looked it up at the local bookstore, something about it reminded me of a series of books I read when I was a kid, mysteries by Lawrence Sanders (the Deadly Sin books). So even though this wasn't the sort of thing I'm reading now, for some reason I decided to pick it up anyway, and I was pleasantly surprised when I sat down to read it.

First of all, I was intrigued by the setting. My work has afforded me the opportunity to visit Edinburgh and the surrounding area a couple times in the past year, and I really love that place. Something about it reminds me of the American Midwest (if the America Midwest had a big-ass castle in the middle of it). Reading a book set in the same city captivated me. Perhaps if I wasn't as familiar, or enthralled, by the setting, I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much.

Second, the writing wasn't half-bad. This was one of Rankin's first books, and I've read in reviews that his style has matured since then, but even still it is not written with the usual clichés that I'm used to. I found that refreshing. His prose has a nice flow to it that, while not Dickens, is many steps up from the drivel that passes for pulp mystery fiction these days (it seems).

His character, Inspector Rebus, is well-rounded, not a 100% good guy, just enough darkness under the covers to make him interesting. I think I would like to read more about him in future books, perhaps read them in chronological order to see how Rankin's writing style evolves. Here, Rebus is crass and sharp, sometimes a jerk, sometimes a good cop and a caring father as well.

About the only thing I didn't like about this story was the plot, which ended up being a little too choppy (looking for the right word, here) as we're strung along by the unusual Macguffin of these knots and crosses, which happen to be sent to Rebus and would lead any imbecile (except most of characters in the first 2/3rds of this novel) to realize that he was somehow connected to the killer. It's almost as if Rankin doesn't really know what he wants to write about as he's working his way though this story. Maybe that's true. It was one of his first books, after all. Perhaps the rest get a little more organized. This one was good enough as is for me to want to find out. ( )

The first Rebus book introduces us to our hero, who has a Past - two Pasts, in fact: a traumatic military experience in the SAS, and a failed marriage. The two collide in spectacular fashion; it's not so much a detective novel as a psychological account of Rebus working through his own experiences. Both Rankin and Rebus also seem to have a fascination with the intersection between police procedurality and media manipulation. All set against a richly detailed Edinburgh. A good start. ( )

i listened to this and missed a lot so i decided to read it because the series is so famous. this was just so improbable and the character so drunk and peculiar that i couldn't get into it. so little attention paid to the 3 girls who died for absolutely nothing, ( )

A really good read. This novel delves into Rebus' past life when a friend from the past devastates the present. A killer is loose and the police cannot get a lead on his motive or how he is choosing his victims. This killer wants more than revenge - he wants Rebus and his family to suffer. ( )

Finally…
At long last I have read my first Ian Rankin Rebus novel – and although it wasn’t at all what I expected (whatever that was) it certainly didn’t disappoint. And, as the beginning of a long series, Knots & Crosses, although written over twenty years ago, is quite relevant today and is an absorbing opening to, what many have remarked to me as, a much-anticipated set of books.

With little preamble Detective-Sergeant John Rebus, of the Great London Road police station, Edinburgh, is introduced, along with all his frailties. Separated from his wife and daughter, and thus a mediocre father, who smokes and drinks too much, he lives a solitary, unsatisfactory existence, maintaining a fleeting contact with his only brother; his past, reluctantly surfacing with recurrent lurid visions, is as much an impasse to himself, as to the reader. But when Rebus is assigned to the seemingly random abduction / murders of young girls - a crime consuming all of Edinburgh - his much-vaunted skills neglect to connect a rash of persistent, personal crank letters with the case. And despite a niggling, subconscious belief, that the knot of string, or the cross, with the cryptic note inserted into each envelope is pertinent to the ongoing investigation, it is not until almost too late that Rebus grasps the personal aspect of the murders; only by confronting and uncovering the agonising memories he has deliberately suppressed from his previous life, can he solve this most distressing situation.

From the very first page of this book, there is a tone, and an atmosphere, Ian Rankin extols concerning the life of John Rebus – a study of a character gone almost awry – which consequently reveals the fragility beneath an outer core of hard-won strength, plus the basis, the inner beliefs, of this most intriguing protagonist. And from the very first page I was hooked, did not want to stop reading; though exactly why is hard to pigeonhole - there is an innate skill with Ian Rankin’s writing craft which is at once pleasing, and which effortlessly cajoles the reader into a decided commitment, an unyielding investment in the tale. Conversely, this accent on Rebus: his disposition, his temperament, his underlying nature was unforeseen; pure speculation on my part contends many readers would have initially expected, indeed preferred, a story somewhat more plot-driven in nature.

In point of fact, I am unsure this novel was originally intended as a fit for the crime genre, yet regardless of this unexpected emphasis - on personality rather than action - a solid foundation is now established for the remainder of this series. A well-written, rapid read, this chronicle introduces a fascinating and formidable individual; and notwithstanding a persistent, purposely contrived, overall feeling of slight imbalance, I have a belief that the events exposed in this first instalment will resurface habitually, and not too far in the future; the inner turmoil of John Rebus underpinning forthcoming plot-devices. That alone is enough to furnish, in me, a strong desire to read the next of these books.

(May 3, 2009) ( )