Now onto pastures entirely new. Enjoyed my trip to Scotland for the Bloody Scotland Festival so much that I wanted to get into some iconic Scottish crime fiction. I saw William McIlvanney around the festival (too star-struck to speak to him, mind you), so thought I’d give his 1977 Tartan Noir novel ‘Laidlaw’ a try. 

So far it seems of a language and time all of its own, distilled Glasgow in a timeless stasis. It has my attention in full. In fact I feel a bit like it has got me by the throat. Sensational.

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