33 books like Garnethill

This is the starting point–when Inspector Rebus reaches the top tier. Rebus investigates a Bible John copycat–while under investigation over an assault in another case. The book is global in scope if that globe was Scotland. Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Shetland, with some commentary on the North Sea oil industry while we’re at it (one of many fantastic ways to start an argument north of the border). 

It could have been weighty, overbearing, unwieldy, clumsy, and insensitive. Instead, it’s just brilliant. Not to be missed if you’re a crime fan. 

The seventies. The tough town. Laidlaw, Glasgow’s philosopher detective, is trying to find out who killed the lassie in the park. Arguably the template for Taggart, arguably the starting point for Tartan Noir.

I liked the way its bark was just as bad as its bite. It threatens to explode into violence all the way through, between most of its characters–then it does. Hard cases. And yet, at the very end, incredibly, compassion and sympathy.

Though easy to mock for their repetitive plots and outdated societal attitudes, children of all ages devoured Enid Blyton’s mystery stories ravenously, and I was no exception. Blyton was an absurdly prolific writer, and it’s tough to pick a favourite from her expansive catalogue, but if you twisted my arm, I’d have to go with 1945’s The Mystery of the Secret Room. I still remember my excitement as I followed the five intrepid “find-outers” (and dog!) on their quest to uncover the mystery behind a fully furnished room in a supposedly abandoned house, all the while outsmarting the dim-witted local policeman, Mr. Goon. An unusual choice, perhaps, but this book, and indeed Blyton’s entire oeuvre, were a formative influence on me and sparked a lifelong love of amateur detectives.

I suspect one of the reasons I enjoy reading (and writing) about amateur detectives is that I’m instinctively drawn to stories of the dispossessed – those without a voice, forced to take matters into their own hands because the proper authorities won’t listen. Kirstin Innes’ debut novel, about a woman investigating the disappearance of her sex worker sister, is not for the fainthearted: a deep dive into a parallel world that foregrounds the voices of the women who inhabit it and challenges widely-held conceptions about them – namely that they’re all poor, pathetic victims in need of rescuing. Innes’ thorough research shines throughout, and the result is a compelling, informative, and thought-provoking novel that avoids the common tropes associated with the “dead hooker” subgenre of crime fiction.

Taken together, the four novels in David Peace’s Red Riding Quartet form a sprawling, semi-fictional account of corruption and brutality within the notorious West Yorkshire Police force. Each instalment has a different protagonist, including both police officers and civilians, with the first, 1974, centred around an ambitious junior reporter who, while investigating a series of child murders, stumbles upon a shocking conspiracy involving the police and a local business magnate. Written in a terse, noir-infused style that brilliantly conjures up both its period setting and location, 1974 is one of the darkest and most unnerving crime novels ever written – one in which hope is an illusion and the ethos of the bad guys is ably summed up by the unforgettable line: “This is the North. We do what we want!”

Gonzo journalism meets Tartan Noir as Iain Banks ventures into crime. A journalist who’s a big fan of all the bad stuff seems to have a link to a killer picking off members of the establishment.

The second-person narration follows the killer, an unusual stylistic flourish. The answers to the horror lie within, and this book goes to some unbearably dark places. (In theory, The Crow Road is also a murder mystery.)

Rilke, the auctioneer, finds a collection of photographs that show the death of a young woman. He journeys into the dark heart of Glasgow–and his own desires–to find out who she is.

An amazing debut, looking at the subcultures and twisted alleyways that stitch together every big city. I was compelled by how far Welsh was prepared to go, depicting a city I thought I knew.

I tell everyone I know that if they want a book with incredible character development, read The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo.

This book is highly atmospheric. You can feel the biting cold, the fear, the pain. It also has characters with questionable ethics. It made me question how I feel about vengeance and retribution. Some of the content is very dark, yet it doesn’t feel sensationalized.

This is also a thriller with hints of a happy ending—at least, for some people—while also leaving some things uncertain or unresolved. I prefer a thriller to leave me hanging a little . . . 

The Long Drop is a Scottish crime book like no other. 

It features an imagined night featuring two key figures in the terrible world of one of Scotland’s most notorious murderers Peter Manuel.

In this long night of the soul Peter Manuel and William Watt wander through Glasgow and its underbelly as Manuel leads Watt on a journey of lies, drink, and trickery.

It is Tartan Noir at its most terrifying. A Jekyll and Hyde story of a night based on true events.

I loved the main character Paddy Meehan’s voice in this series. Paddy is a lowly copygirl at a Glasgow newspaper with dreams of becoming an investigative journalist during a time when girls are expected to marry out of high school and have babies, not unlike the way things were when I entered the work world. Paddy is intelligent and driven and so outside the mold that her family and boyfriend, indeed the Scottish community, cannot understand her drive to be more than what society demands she should be. She’s someone I rooted for every step of the way as she navigates the old boys’ club in the 1980s and 1990s. Combine Paddy with Mina’s brilliant writing, realistic dialogue, and compelling plotlines, and this series is one to be savored.