It’s often the case that present-day crimes have their roots in the past. Ian Rankin’s Even Dogs in the Wild (Orion, £19.99, Spectator Bookshop, £16.99) uncovers abuse and ill-treatment in a care home in the 1980s, and the murder of a teenage boy. That terrible act echoes through the years. When three people receive threatening notes, and two of them end up being murdered, the Edinburgh police fear that more will become victims. Enter John Rebus in his 20th outing. Retired now, but as canny as ever, he picks at the connections between the present and the past with a sure, unblinking eye. The search for justice gives him life.
Rankin puts his books together in a methodical way; line by line, idea by idea, the story builds up and takes you over. His style — bone dry, observational, even distant at times, but glinting with poetry — proves hypnotic. He writes complex plots, weaving between viewpoints, and always with a soundtrack in mind, in this case a song by the Scottish band The Associates. We learn that even when the victims are dead, their spirits can live on; they can still reach out to exact their revenge.
In 1981, London was caught up in the final decade of the Cold War. Francesca Kay’s The Long Room (Faber, £14.99, Spectator Bookshop, £12.49) is a spy story. We know the atmosphere from John le Carré; ex-public schoolboys in dusty grey offices going about their clandestine business. Stephen Donaldson is far down the chain of command. His sole job is to listen to the recorded lives of suspected traitors and enemy agents. He’s been trained to detect the secrets held within normal speech, looking for clues, slip-ups, subtextual messages.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in