No ordinary crime...

We know we’ve been quiet for a while, but here is a collection of generally shorter reviews on recent novels that bend the crime genre. Most of these take elements from SF and play around with them in a crime/noir fashion, but the ones that grab our attention here at Crime Scene Scotland, tend to be the ones that do more than simply tell crime stories with Ray Guns. Presented here for your amusement are three of our favourite of the recent crop of genre-bending novels.

(we have excluded the excellent Pandaemonium by Christopher Brookmyre and the sublimely funny The Gates by John Connolly, on the basis that while these novels are brilliant and written by established crime writers, they do not really count as crime novels in any other sense – but trust me when I say that both these books come highly, highly reccomended)

FINCH by Jeff Vandermeer

Underland Press, 2009, ISBN 978-0980226010

A strange mix of hardboiled crime novel and fantasy/sf, Finch is one at first a murder mystery in a strange land that twists three quarters of the way through into a thriller of a very different type. But its credit to Vandermeer’s sheer skill as a writer that he holds the reader very well through this change in pace and tone, setting up a strange inevitability to the way in which his narrative twists and turns.

Set in the mysterious city of AmberGris, the plot follows a murder investigation as a local, human, cop investigates the bizarre murder of a human and a mysterious Gray Cap. In Vandermeer’s world, the Gray Caps dominate the city of AmberGris, ruling over humans, and this double murder is extremely unusual, probably linked – as detective Finch discovers – to rebel human groups whose wish is to overthrow the Gray Caps.

At first, Vandermeer’s staccato prose style can seem a little full on, a little too stylized. However, once you become adjusted to the rhythms, it is very clear that Vandermeer knows what he’s doing, and something in the prose adds to the alien air that permeates the entire novel.

Speaking of atmosphere, it is worth nothing that the world of Ambergris is rich and brilliantly realised. A grungy atmosphere lies heavy in the evocative and spare descriptions of this other world, and at times the reader can almost feel the slime of spores beneath their hands and experience the strange sensation of the organic technology that has replaced nearly every aspect of familiar human creation. It is clear that Vandermeer has created this world in a loving and intricate fashion, although at time for a reader who is virgin to this world, many of the references and history can seem a tad oblique and perhaps confusing to the reader as they try to figure the complex relationship shared between humans, gray-caps and the mysterious “partials”. There have, of course, been two previous novels set in the world of Ambergris, which may answer a few of the more ambiguous questions that readers have, and it is hard to escape the impression by the end of the novel that you have come in at the conclusion far larger than you have any hope of really understanding. That said, a little bit of guesswork and a sharp-minded reader should be able to figure out the basics and get on with losing themselves in the characters and the narrative.

What is particularly interesting with Finch is the fact that the crime/hardboiled elements work very well without tipping too far over the line into cliché. The temptation when mixing crime and SF is often to write a typical crime story with ray guns, but here Vandermeer ensures that the kind of crime and the ensuing investigation could not have worked in a typical and realist setting. This means that for every moment we think we know what is happening, something occurs to throw us off balance. The overarching conspiracy plot feels a little convoluted at times, but again this is perhaps more to do with how deeply the reader involves themselves with the world Vandermeer has created.

Finch is a class act. An intriguing blend of SF and hardboiled procedural, it succeeds through Vandermeer’s skill with narrative and his absolute belief in the world that he has created. Once you get used to Vandermeer’s world and his staccato prose style, you’ll find yourself rewarded with a story that goes beyond its simple opening premise and goes on to play with ideas that are much larger than you could ever expect. This is a story that could have been told in no other way; expands beyond its initial feeling of noir with fungal weaponry to become something far larger, stranger and more intriguing. And it does all of this while maintaining an emotional and very human core.

A genre-bending, intriguing, grimy and compelling novel, Finch is highly recommended.

ACTS OF DESTRUCTION by Mat Coward

Alia Mondo Press, 2009, ISBN 9780955868610

Better known for his gently amusing English mysteries featuring DI’s Packham and Mitchell, Coward’s latest novel represents something of a change in direction as he moves the action to London in the near future, where climate change and social upheaval has resulted in a society where horse-drawn transport is the norm, recycling is mandatory, wastefulness is illegal and food and fuel are tightly rationed.

A utopia?

Perhaps, but one that is formed from a series of disasters. And as we quickly discover, Coward is no fool, understanding that even in a society where people are – by necessity – more close knit and involved, there will still be those who attempt to subvert the law for their own ends. The North London Serious Crime Squad still have a full case load. Thefts from rooftop gardens, illegal preachers and now… two murders and a missing child.

Much of the novel plays as a commentary on our current society, and it would have been easy for Coward to play up the cynicism card here, tell us that unless we change our ways, we’re going to be screwed as a people. And for a while it seems as though his society – which harks back to a kind of 1950’s social construct – might be being placed as a possible replacement for the world we live in, now. But thankfully Coward also starts to show the cracks in this environmentally conscious Utopia, both through the attitudes of certain characters and the way in which the narrative resolves itself.

As ever, Coward’s writing is breezy and fast. He is a very British writer in many ways, capturing the very foibles of modern British – perhaps often more specifically English, I would have to say – society. The humour and the satire is gentle in its way, but incredibly effective, and belies the power of Coward’s political leanings which bubble just beneath the surface.

A thought provoking book which works on multiple levels, both as entertainment and commentary, Acts of Destruction is an undeniably British but very accessible novel that demonstrates Coward’s imaginative verve and breezy, extremely readable style.


HALFHEAD by Stuart B MacBride

Harpercollins, 2009, ISBN: 9780007298709


We’re long time fans of MacBride’s cheekily amusing, grotesquely black-comedy police procedurals here at Crime Scene Scotland, and the prospect of the man taking on the world of Science Fiction was something we have been looking forward to for a long time.

In HalfHead, MacBride concerns himself with a near-future Glasgow where the city is divided into two halves, with the underclasses living in cramped, high-rise conditions and occasionally being quelled by the police whizzing in and beating them about before leaving again to let the populace consider their lessons learnt. In this near future, violent offenders are dealt with though extreme surgery that lobotomises them and removes half of their face. These offenders are known as half head, and with their violent instincts (along with most of their personality) removed, they are used as menial workers and seen as little more than window dressing to the world. They move, unnoticed, unappreciated through society, unaware of the world around them in any real sense, existing in a kind of coma state.

Until one of them – one of the worst of them – wakes up.

MacBride’s vision of Scotland in the near future is most dystopian than anything I’ve read in a long time; working under the principle that while technology may change, people will not. As a result, the HalfHead is grimy, violent and often laugh out loud funny in the darkest possible sense. In short, if you’ve been digging his contemporary procedurals, you’ll get a real kick out of HalfHead.

One of the things that really stands out to me about HalfHead is the accessibility of it as a story. Having recently tried and failed to read Charles Stross’s Halting State, I was a bit wary about returning to a near future Scotland. But where Stross loses himself in extraneous details, MacBride simply assures us that this is how the world is and allows his story to unfold. There is no need to explain the inner workings of the Whompers and Thrummers; its enough to know that they are bloody big guns. And while there is clearly a backstory behind the new slums of Glasgow, MacBride merely posits their existence and shows us their effect on his characters, how they react to and talk about their world informs the reader far more simply than pages of clever exposition.

With HalfHead, MacBride shows us his power and his flexibility as an author. Its universe is an intriguing one that I hope we can return to (and certainly, the end of the book sets up some intriguing promises for the future), and I’m sure that fans of both SF and crime fiction will be clamouring to see more from the dystopian insanity of MacBride’s near future Glasgow. Until then, however, HalfHead stands alone blistering, hugely imaginative and smart entertainment with a twisted black sense of humour that would probably make future Glasgow’s most prolific serial killer, Dr Fiona Westfield, very proud indeed.

BURY ME DEEP by Megan Abbott

Simon and Schuster, 2009 ISBN 978-1416599098

Bury Me Deep, Megan Abbott's fourth novel, is a 1930's set tale of abandonment, lust and painfully human mistakes that hooked this reader right from the first page. The voice - a beautifully choreographed, stylised and compelling third person narration - sucks you right in. Abandoned by her husband - a disgraced doctor who has gone to find work down in Mexico - in Pheonix, Marion Seeley finds work at a nearby medical clinic. With no life outside of work to speak of, she soon becomes enamoured with co-worker, Louise, a woman whose life outside of the wards seems exciting and glamorous to her innocent and naive new friend. But Louside isn't the one she has to worry about. When the charming and forceful Joe Lanigan appears on the scene, Marion soon discovers the dark side to her new friends' seemingly exuberant lifestyle and before long she finds herself sucked into a series of terrible events she could never have imagined.

As Abbott mentions in her afterword to this novel, Bury Me Deep is inspired by one of LA's most publicised true crime tales of the 1930's, that of "the trunk murderess" Winnie Ruth Judd. It was an intriguing, and Abbott's fictional re-imagining of what could have led to such a tragic end is both inspired its sheer imaginative power and the ferocity of Abbott's research which evokes the social, physical and historical power of the period. As I have previously mentioned, Abbott's voice is spellbinding; her prose literally singing, pulling you in, making you believe every word you're reading. What is most impressive is the way that Abbott fools into believing the contemporary nature of her prose. The rhythm feels very much of the time, and yet maintains a modern sparseness and directness that means the book feels absolutely immediate to the reader. You are quite literally pulled back in time with Abbott, experiencing her 1930's noir world as though it were real, and the world you experience from day to day was the fiction.

One of the major driving themes behind the novel is the seduction of sin. Like a female Ellroy, Abbott revels in the allure of the underground party scene, and the transformation of Marion from an innocent and surprised outsider to a willing participant in some truly unsettling affairs is compelling and so utterly natural that the reader finds themselves as surprised as Marion at the changes that occur within her life. Its a compelling theme and one that Abbott makes her own, asking where the line blurs between our fascination with the wild lifestyle and our actual participation within it.

Bury Me Deep is an incredible period piece and a stunning noir novel that examines a moment of history we all thought we knew from a different and fascinating perspective. Abbott's pitch perfect storytelling pulls the reader into a dark and unsettling world, and her clear love of her source material combined with deep research shines through, resulting in a novel that is immersive, addictive and darkly beautiful.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland, 08/08/09

TOWER by Ken Bruen and Reed Farrel Coleman

Busted Flush Press, 2009, ISBN 978-1935415077

Tower is the real deal; a collaborative novel that feels absolutely cohesive. Two voices that tell one strong tale, fusing together to create a whole that grabs the reader by the neck and shakes them to make sure they’re paying close attention. Sure, it helps that individually, Bruen and Coleman are two of the best authors working the crime and noir beats today, but it takes more than two talented authors to create a successful collaboration. There has to be, somewhere, a common purpose and a clarity of intent that allows the reader to quit guessing at who wrote what or trying to spot the compromises and bargaining that was made between the authors and simply appreciate the book in the same they would one written by a single author.

Let’s put it this way – even if I didn’t know the works of both authors, I would still consider Tower to be a damn fine novel.

The central conceit – two narratives that run parallel – is not groundbreaking, but it feels that way, told with such confidence and assurance. Read one narrative, you’ve got a story with a beginning, a middle and an end, but the beauty of Tower is the fact that reading both narratives destroys your conceits and pre-conceptions; you spend the second half of the book trying to figure just how much you really knew in the first place.

And you want to know.

You have to know.

On the one side, you got Nicky, an Irish New Yorker with a hell of a temper and a habit of keeping bad company, and on the other you got Todd, maybe Nick’s best friend, and a guy with his own secrets and worries. Starting with a B&E that goes badly wrong, the two men sink deeper into troubles of their own making, soon finding themselves hip deep in bodies, mobsters and undercover cops. It’s a tale of friendship, loyalty and choices that, in certain scenes – and certain themes, as well – reminded this reviewer very much of Scorcese’s recent Boston crime melodrama, The Departed.

Tower’s construction is beautiful. In his introduction, Coleman talks about the early stages of the book and how the need for an epilogue and prologue really enhanced these two narratives, and he is spot on in his evaluation. I do not know precisely how they wrote these sections, but they both work beautifully, setting up the mood and cementing themes and ideas so that the novel feels solid. The connections between the two narratives are enhanced, and loose ends are perhaps not tied up, but certainly treated with respect, allowing the reader a sense of closure.

Both narratives are told in modifications – gentle ones – of the author’s own unique styles. And, yes, if you care about such things, you will know who wrote what narrative but its not something the authors have made a secret of. The result is a novel that truly flows. Had both participants stuck to their own styles rigidly, there would have been a complete disconnect. But for the world of difference that exists between Todd and Nick, there is also a sense of connection and continuity.

What we think we know of one character is changed utterly from another point of view. While the reader could be forgiven for thinking they know what’s happening when they read the first narrative, believing they’ve uncovered that major twist, the second narrative manages to twist our perceptions and ideas so that we view Nicky’s story in a whole new light. It’s a neat trick, and only two writers at the top of their game could have managed it.

Worth noting, too, is the fact that – as ever – publisher Busted Flush has packed the book to the brim with extras, including the aforementioned introduction by Coleman, interviews with both players and their editor (King of Scots Noir, Allan Guthrie). The extras are interesting for the insights they give into how the novel came about, and how each writer had to adapt to the book’s needs. Its fascinating material, and the kind of attention to detail that Busted Flush is becoming known for.

Ultimately, of course, the writing of the novel speaks for itself. Even without the benefit of supplementary material, Tower makes its presence known with a roar. The plot drags you along, and Nick and Todd are the best kind of protagonists. Like the book itself, they are compelling, complex and dangerously unpredictable.

Collaborations are nothing new in the world of literature, but Tower makes its mark in its compelling, two-tiered structure, its layered narrative and the way in which its author’s complement and enhance each other. If you love punchy, layered and stylish crime fiction, then believe me when I say that you’re going to adore Tower.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland, 08/08/09

THE TWELVE by Stuart Neville

Harvill-Secker, 2009, 978-1846552793, £12.99

In the last couple of years, it feels like all the best new crime fiction has been coming out of Ireland. A willingness to confront political and societal issues combined with a blistering array of voices means that Irish crime and thriller fiction is currently among the most exctiting work being created.

New and beloved voices here at Crime Scene have included Ken Bruen, Declan Hughes, Declan Burke, Brian McGilloway, Bateman, John Connolly and now we can add Stuart Neville to that list.

The Twelve of the title refers to twelve ghosts who have appeared to former paramilitary killer Gerry Fegan. These ghosts are those who were killed during his life throughout the troubles, and now they are demanding vengeance. Its not Gerry they want dead, however. They need him as their instrument. They want Gerry to seek out those who were responsible for their deaths. They will not kill the gun, but the people who pulled the trigger.

Searching for peace, Gerry cuts a bloody path through the hypocrisy of a new peace, causing not only personal but political chaos as he seeks to set these troubled souls to rest.

Its a brilliant premise, made even more chilling by Neville's refusal to utterly settle down on a concrete explanation for the ghosts. Like fellow Irish writer John Connolly, Neville shrouds the supernatural elements of the title with a terrifying ambiguity. Read this how you like; either Gerry is truly haunted, or he is shattered by his own experiences and the twelve are little more than a manifestation of his own self loathing.

As the book kicks into gear, Neville explodes the hypocrisy and terror of modern politics, giving us killers who have reinvented themselves as politicians and officials who are every bit as guilty as those they would condemn. His vision of Ireland has been shattered by its past, unable to lay any of its ghosts to rest making the Twelve as much a damning political novel as it is a straight forward thriller.

Neville is the kind of fierce new voice that the thriller genre cries out for. His prose is sharp and deadly, his characters never less than complex. And for all The Twelve could easily have been a simple drama of revenge, a kind of Death Wish with an Irish accent, it feels somehow deeper and any answers you think have been offered are tempered with further questions. This is a thinking man's thriller, as philosophical as it is visceral, and a novel I urge you to out and read. Right now.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland, 08/08/09

THE DISSASEMBLED MAN by Nate Flexer

New Pulp Press, 9780981557908

Nate Flexer's debut is a modern psycho noir in the tradition of Jim Thompson that is one of the first books to be published by New Pulp Press. It is the story of Frankie Avicious, a man whose life is on the skids, who finds himself listening to the advice of a mysterious travelling salesman and finally setting out to take from life what he rightfully believes to be his. From the very start, when we see Frankie at his job mercilessly killing cattle for his rich father in law, we know we're we're in for a gruesome and cold-hearted journey into the dark side of the American landscape.

As a manifesto for New Pulp Press, The Dissasembled Man is a fine example of the intent and attitude of this new small publisher. The novel is lean and mean - with the emphasis on mean - a true psycho-noir novel that leaves the reader to work out the truth behind events we can only see from the point of view of the protagonist. At Crime Scene Scotland, we have a weakness for unreliable narrators, and Frankie is one of the most unreliable you could hope for. There is a whole world going on just outside of his narrow vision and the reader has to figure out just how much of the world we are seeing through this man's eyes. The twist that comes maybe two thirds of the way through the book ups the stakes even more and those last few pages are a real mindbender. To say much more would be to spoil the ride, but this is the kind of book that you could find yourself arguing over how to interpret. And that's a damn good thing.

The only true problem with The Dissasembled Man comes from a few stumbles in the authorial voice. While Frankie is a decidedly unreliable narrator whose true nature comes to light through the unfolding of the narrative rather than through what he tells us, at times he seems to have these bursts of lyrical and near literary observations that come across unnatural given the set up of his general tone and demeanour. Whether these are meant to imply the gradual fracturing of his mind, or to hint the reader that all is not as it seems, I'm not sure. But they don't flow as naturally as one might expect, detracting from the burning pace of the narrative. Basically, whenever Frankie becomes too verbose for his own good, the spell is momentarily shattered and the reader is reminded that they are reading a novel.

But taken as a whole, The Dissasembled Man is a damn fine read; a brilliant and raw example of the Psycho Noir genre, and a move back to the point of view of the disenfranchised American heartland that seems to have been ignored lately by a great deal of crime fiction. Flexer's world is one of losers and drifters and grifters and hard luck cases who came into this world with bad luck and only accumulated more as they grew up. The spirit of Thompson hangs heavy over this novel which feels at once part of the old pulp movement and also timeless; the America described in this novel is near mythical in its refusal to tie itself down to a year or era more than "now". There are hints of incest and immorality that are simply part of the fabirc of the life, and you know that Flexer's world is a world of the damned. Is there hope? There is only the hope of hope, and that adds a vicious streak to the novel that some may find unpalatable, but which those who dig the whole psycho-noir genre - particularly the cold and amoral world of early Jason Starr - are going to clamour around. And perhaps that should serve as a warning, too. Like many of Starr's character, Avicious is often unpalatable and plain repulsive. He's not a guy you're going to warm to, but he's absolutely fascinating and unsettling; a bold choice of narrator and if you prefer your characters to be fascinating rather than sympathetic, Avicious is your man. And, like Frankie, the book itself is too mean to be sympathetic, too damn tough to be loved and too screwed to be forgiven, and yet those pages turn as you find yourtself descending into the literal hell of one man's mind. This is unforgiving stuff, about as far from commercial crime as you could get, and damn did we love it here at Crime Scene Scotland.

And then there's that ending... is it a metaphysical, allegorical or plain loony tunes twist? Hard to say without discussing it, but suffice to say its going to stay with you for a long time even if all you're trying to do is figure out the truth.

Despite a roughness around the edges - which perhaps also gives it its charm - The Dissasembled Man is an excellent psycho-noir; A fine start for New Pulp, and a bold and disturbing debut from Flexer, read this one at the risk of your own sanity.

Russel D McLean for Crime Scene Scotland, 1/07/09

GUTTED by Tony Black

Preface, June 2009, £16.99, ISBN 9781848090521

Gus Dury knows this much: he's a rager. His life is fuelled by anger, both impotent and justified, at personal aquaintances and those he's never met. His righteous fury has been curbed by harsh reality and his own limitations. In any other story he'd be heroic. Here, he's a man with no power trying his damndest to kick against all the wrongs he sees in the world.

And maybe this makes him a hero, too.

Tony Black's second novel (following from 2008's stunning Paying For It) finds Dury once again getting involved in events which others believe he has no business snooping around him. Driven by this rage and a self-destructive need to follow those he percieves as innocent into hell, Drury finds himself trying to save a dog and stumbling across a mutilated corpse. Its only the first step into a sinister world that will find Gus truly tested, physically, mentally and morally as he tries to maintain his own sense of justice in a world that constantly conspires to push him over the edge.

Gutted is fuelled by Dury's rage. At injustice both political and personal. Black's debut, Paying For It laid bare certain realities about the streets of modern Scotland, and now Gutted rips even further into our national psyche. Its exploration of class and corruption - two words that tear at the heart of our nation's politics, more-so than the smoke screen of "independence" that has become the popular image - exposes our inadequacies and shortcomings. And yet this is tempered by a deep love of our country and people. To truly love something, it seems, sometimes you have to acknowedlege the flaws inherent within it. And Black exposes our flaws, brings them out into the light so that we can see them. And we deal with them.

For all of this subtext, it is true that Black writes a terrific and furiously paced novel. Like the best of noir, the action is fast and yet never sacrifices the characters who drive it. Dury himself is a beautiful set of contradictions. His anger comes from love, and the revelations in this book about his marriage and why it was doomed to fail from the start are utterly heartbreaking and again motivated by that deep and driving rage at the ways in which people judge each other for actions that are, in the end, no one else's business.

What is more than incredible is that Black can make a character who - in a two second soundbite - might sound like someone we've seen before come across as engagingly fresh and convincingly alive. The alcoholic, crusading ex-journalist who only wants redemption even if he'll never find it? Dury is so much more than a soundbite, and that is where Black's true skills lie: he creates endlessly fascinating narratives and characters with hidden and unexpected layers.

Black is also a beautiful prose stylist. His voice comes roaring off the page, a scream of anger at the world. While Paying for It at times wore its influences on its sleeve, here Black is far more certain and sure of his own voice. We can still the influence on authors like Ken Bruen, but now Black's own voice shines through clearer, adapting his own tricks and ticks to great and mesmerising effect.

Black will make you rage like Dury at the world and he will break your heart just as easily. With Gutted, he continues to carve his own unique and dark portrait of modern Scotland. With a tour guide like Gus, you'll be taken beyond the tourist traps and tartan tat to the true torrid heart of modern Scotland.

If you haven't read Black, you're missing out on one of the best new voices to emerge from Scotland in the last few years. One of the best new voices to enter the genre, period. Miss out on this one and you will truly be Gutted.

Russel D McLean for crimescenescotland.com, 17/06/09

LOSER'S TOWN by Daniel Depp

Simon And Shuster, March 2009, 9781847374073

Ex-stuntman turned PI David Spandau knows the truth about tinsel-town, understands the egos and deceptions that make up the factory of dreams. So when he's asked to protect a new hot star who's got himself in a world of bother with local mobsters, he's under no illusions about the kind of trouble he's getting into.

But Hollywood is the kind of place that eats up your expectations and spits them out on the sidewalk. And while Spandau can deal with Hollywood, is he really ready to take on the mob?

Depp's debut is peppered with the kind of punchy dialogue you would expect from a screen writer and the kind of scarbarous attacks on the world of Holly-weird that comes from years of being an industry insider.

However, all this lifting off the lid of tinsel-town is nothing we haven't seen before. From insecure stars who want to be famous more than they want to be good at their craft to cynical agents who won't talk to anyone they don't know to be important to the criminals who want an "in" to the dream factory... Loser's Town reads like a laundry list of other books. Spandau himself could have walked right of an Elmore Leonard novel. He's got the right kind of background and the kind of shady heroism that Leonard's heroes do so well. And our mobster wanting a piece of the action, he's grand, but no Ray Barboni; nothing to lift him up and let him stay in our conscious. The background characters - from the self-involved agent to the young movie star who's psychologically unprepared for the stratospheric level of fame that he's been thrust into - are all interesting enough, but could easily have come direct from central casting.

All This Holly-weird stuff has been covered many times in films such as What Just Happened? and of course in novels such as Rob Long's Set Up, Joke, Set Up, Joke. or in a more direct parallel, Steven Bochco's novel, Death by Hollywood which shares many of this novel's pros and cons leaving the reader to wonder whether its something in the way that working in the movie and TV business that makes you see the world a certain way. And while there's no denying that Depp does a great job of setting up his world, he's really not giving us much that we haven't seen before.

Which is a great pity, because Depp's natural prose style and ability to create empathy with his characters, even those we have seen before is perfectly evident. Depp appears to be a talented writer but the sheer deja-vu of Loser's Town robs it of any real power.

Perhaps, of course, the familiarity of Depp's situations and characters is also part of the point; Hollywood is a town where the familiar masquerades as the innovative, where the people are so sheltered that they do not know anything beyond the world of La-La land.

Loser's Town is a fun read, but is unfortunately not a book that's really going to stay with you any length of time. Its a well written thriller that shows promise for Depp's future as a novelist, but to really grab our attention next time out he's going to need to give us something we haven't seen before.

Russel D McLean for Crime Scene Scotland, 19/04/09