William McIlvanney (1936–2015)

These days "tartan noir" or "tartan crime" are well known terms - Scottish authors, set in Scotland and drawing liberally from Scottish life. Most crime and noir readers had heard the names of Ian Rankin, Val McDermid, Denise Mina or Peter May (and usually at least a few of them) and know what to expect from them. But the genre had not existed for very long - its start is usually connected to William McIlvanney and his Laidlaw trilogy. I've read most of the modern authors but never went back show more to Laidlaw - so it was about time for me to finally go and read the novels that started it all.

William McIlvanney is not what you would expect from a crime writer - he won multiple awards for his literary work (including the Whitbread Award (aka the Costa under its old name) before deciding that crime/noir is a good genre to use for his next book. The result was Laidlaw - a novel that won him the Silver Dagger (the second book in the trilogy will win it again - 6 years later).

A young woman is sexually assaulted and after that killed in Glasgow. The eccentric D.I. Jack Laidlaw is assigned to the murder and his unconventional methods takes him around the city, in places where most policemen won't even try to go into. As his bosses know him pretty well, they assign him a new partner, Constable Harkness - who is asked both to assist Laidlaw and to report on him. The relationship between the two men evolve as the novel runs its course - the younger man starts realizing that not everything is black and white. And that is not just about the police work or the criminals - Laidlaw often decides to share his opinions on things they both see - thus providing an almost social commentary of the Glasgow he is creating.

We know who the killer is long before the end of the novel - the murder is almost treated as a springboard to tell the story of Glasgow and the story of how Laidlaw catches the man. In addition to the underbelly of the city where Laidlaw is more respected than the police (or "polis" as they would say locally) is, there is also the complication of the victim's family - who are set on finding the killer and avenging the dead woman.

And then there is the language -- the usage of slang and the local dialects in the dialogues makes the novel hard to read if you are not used to it. They are not unreadable but they take a bit to get used to it (and occasional rereading to see if you got it right). At the same time his language outside of this verges on the poetical (a gritty poetical but still poetical) and that mix can be a bit jarring. But it also shows where the style of some of my favorite Scottish noir/crime authors come from - I can see the influence in almost all of them (it is also a bit hard to get your mind from trying to tell you that this sounds like Rankin or McDermid - just to realize a second later that it is the other way around really).

Not an easy read sometimes and despite it being the first in the genre, it may not work for everyone. But if you enjoy the genre, it may be worth checking it - because it is also a brilliant work of detective fiction - even when it is hard to read. show less

The original dark Scottish procedural, written by a poet, and it shows. The language is surprising, sometimes very funny, which is saying a lot considering how dark this book is. Set in 70s Glasgow, the story follows the detective Laidlaw as he searches in his less than conventional ways for the murderer of a young woman.

Laidlaw is the model of the wounded detective, sustaining family troubles and doubts about his profession, society, and humanity at large. Speaking of professional show more athletes, he calls them the 'temple prostitutes of capitalism', and that sounds just right. It is an intensely visual book as well; so much of the time I could see the setting even when the parties spoke in the dialect of lower-class and underground criminal Glasgow (once in a while I had to look up a slang word, just to be sure.) All the people are real, often angry, sometimes desperate, weighed down by their particular loss.

There are two more Laidlaw books written by McIlvaney, and I am told Ian Rankin has been tapped to continue the series. I'll read up and see how he does. show less

Set in an Ayrshire mining town at the start of the First World War, Docherty is a romanticised, but affectionate and moving portrayal of how a working-class man attempts to come to terms with the limitations of his life. Tam Docherty is a miner. He has a wife, a daughter and three sons, and is a fiercely-committed family man and a union activist. He argues with his father about religion, choosing to renounce the Catholicism he'd been brought up with in a close-knit community where this was show more uncommon.

Though short in stature, he is stubborn and proud and determined that his children will have a better life than he’s had. When his youngest son Cornelius (Conn) is born, Tam has high hopes that he will stay on at school and get the education that Tam himself did not have the opportunity to have. The book is about Tam's struggle to reconcile his dreams and ambitions with the reality of a life where every wage coming into the house is a precious one, and where your children may grow up to have ideals and opinions very different to your own.

I liked this book for McIlvanney's portrayal of a type of family and community that no longer seem to exist (if they ever did exist apart from in wishful thinking). Tam is a good father. He teaches his children to have respect for their elders and partners, and has eyes only for his wife. He is the domineering patriarch of a strong family unit but his actions are motivated by love for his family. While the family support and defend one another against the world, Tam also impresses upon his children the importance of doing what is right, however difficult that may be. They live in Graithnock, a place where families know each other, where people look in on elderly neighbours, where men drink and work while women mend and cook, where children play outside, and partners are met at dances.

McIlvanney writes with incredible sympathy for Docherty, and he also writes very beautifully at times. I found this book very emotionally affecting because it reminded me of my childhood and my own family, and it had me mourning the loss of this type of community and sense of family. show less

It’s 1972 and a body has been found behind The Parlour, a bar in Glascow, that of Bobby Carter, criminal attorney who worked for gang boss Cam Colvin. The pub is situated on the turf of a rival gang and, to save face, Colvin must find who’s is responsible and retaliate, meaning the Glaswegian cops are bracing for an all-out gang war. The case is in the hands of Detective Sargeant Laidlaw, cynical outsider but with a strong sense of morality, a healthy disrespect for authority, a penchant show more for quoting philosophy, and a preference for working alone.

After William McIlvanney’s death in 2015, an unfinished novel in his tartan noir Laidlaw series was discovered.and it was only fitting that Ian Rankin, who has continued the tartan noir tradition in his own Rebus books should complete it. The Dark Remains is the result. This is a well-written, smart, and engrossing noir thriller with plenty of red herrings and twists and turns to keep the reader engaged and guessing throughout. But, like Rankin’s Rebus series, it is less action and the mystery and more character study, their relations both on the street and at home, their backstories, and what motivate them to act as they do. A great read for fans of both or either author or intelligent mysteries.

Thanks to Netgalley and Penguin Random House Canada for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review show less