Laidlaw by William McIlvanney

It has been said that there is not a single Scottish crime writer publishing today who does not owe William McIlvanney and his eponymous hero, Laidlaw, a stylistic debt – if that is true, prepare to be thrilled by this re-release of the character’s debut, a novel which comes on like the raw, distilled spirit of these latter-day writers’ work.

McIlvanney paints an acutely socially aware picture of 1970s Glasgow; grimy, dilapidated, but vibrant. Perspective shifts frequently – we see through the eyes of the young killer, before meeting a rogues gallery of small-time crooks, grizzled hard men and elegantly dressed gangsters. Then there is Detective Jack Laidlaw himself: fearsomely intellectual, much maligned, he does not suffer fools gladly. He's a compelling protagonist; a humanist, empathic detective with a strong moral compass in a city of always-incipient violence.

The plot, which follows the city-wide hunt for a damaged young killer, is gripping and sensitively handled. But the novel’s central pleasure is in the rich cadences of McIlvanney's west coast dialogue, the dogged persistence of Laidlaw, and the portrait of a darker, grittier Glasgow. His tough, vivid prose combines the sardonic wit and stark economy of Chandler with the authenticity and artfulness of his own much-admired non-genre work. The DNA of all Scottish crime fiction is here. [Bram E. Gieben]

Read Bram's accompanying interview William McIllvanney: Laying Down The Law.