In a delicious and ironic quirk of fate that only God or a writer can imagine, I began writing this review sitting at the Mayo Hall in Court #11. A loud-voiced clerk called out case numbers and once either the plaintiff or the defendants stood in a box, the lady judge peered at them, spoke a few words to the court PC and the lawyer present and set a date for the next hearing. I had a long wait before my case number would be hollered but it didn’t matter where I was for I was revisiting in my head one of my recent favourite reads — Rather Be the Devil by Ian Rankin.
Now at the risk of sounding like a fan girl, a Rebus novel can be read even if your house is burning around you. Rankin has a way of lassoing all your sensibilities into a space where only John Rebus and his concerns exist. So much so that after I had first read my first Rebus novel in the winter of 2012, I went out and bought all the Rebus novels published until then. Thereafter, I arranged them in chronological order and for the next few weeks turned into a Rebus stalker trailing his footsteps. I could never summon that kind of a literary crush for Malcolm Fox, Rankin’s protagonist from another related series.
And so in this 21st Rebus novel, the appearance of Malcolm Fox in a decidedly larger role had worried me. John Rebus is retired now and doesn’t have an official standing. Would he be relegated to a cameo, or worse be given the crowd bystander’s role? So all ye Rebus fans, let us stand up and sing hallelujah, for Rebus may not have a badge but he is just as gloriously curmudgeonly and the same intuitive investigator he always was. And he still has top billing.
Rebus is a quieter hero now with a new lady love Deborah Quant and a dog Brillo. He is battling his urge to smoke, drinks decaf and wine instead of beer, and lives with the fear of a dark cancerous shadow, but none of this makes a serious dent in who he is. In fact, Rebus is wilier and funnier and even more vulnerable. I think I fell in love with Rebus all over again. So much so I had to force myself to read slowly, so I could stretch it out as long as I could. It isn’t easy for a writer to sustain interest in a set of characters over as many novels, but Rankin does it with enviable ease and without compromising on the ‘thrill’ factor of the genre. And so Rather be the Devil is not just a character study but also about a murder from 40 years ago that remained unsolved. Meanwhile, Daryl Christie, a young Turk staking his claim on Edinburgh vice, is attacked. Throw in an inquiry into a major money laundering scheme and enter Malcolm Fox and Detective Inspector Siobhan Clarke who share a frisson and case.
All that was left to make my cup runneth over was the presence of Big Ger Cafferty, the man Rebus has encountered over several novels. But Cafferty too is retired now. In fact, when Rebus and Cafferty first meet in the book, it set ‘old friends sitting on the park bench like bookends’ echoing in my head... except that neither man is ever going to settle down to taking up hobbies, sipping their Horlicks and letting go as long as they still have some life in them.
There are dollops of wry humour that is decidedly Rankin. And the case is just as complex with past and present intertwining so that one is constantly wondering where all of it is leading to and how Rebus is going to resolve it. There isn’t a pat ending; fortunately Rankin doesn’t write that sort of novel. Instead, much to my delight, he sets the stage for more action between Cafferty and Rebus.
It’s been 30 years since Rebus first entered the literary firmament and to my relief he shows every sign that he will continue to reign.
Anita Nair talks to Ian Rankin about writing crime fiction and the John Rebus world.
I have been re-reading Knots and Crosses. So many things that have come to represent the Rebus world are not present in that first Rebus novel: Oxford bar, Siobhan etc. At what point did you think you needed to start building in the elements that in an inexplicable way enhances the sharpness of the Rebus character? Or was it a gradual unconscious process?
That first book was intended to be the only book. I was young when I wrote it and thought fiction had to be 100% invention. Later I realised that threading elements of the real city into my stories could have a powerful effect. It also took me some time to learn how helpful secondary characters could be. So Siobhan became a stronger presence in the series.
One of the striking features of Knots and Crosses is the confidence it exudes. It is hard to imagine that a young man in his twenties wrote that first novel. And yet there are the telltale signs of the first novel in the lingering descriptions, the detailing, and a certain insouciance. While some of that has gently slipped away in the later Rebus novels there is nothing dispirited or weary about them. So how do you keep away the fatigue from appearing in the characters and telling?
Because I took the decision that Rebus should exist in real time, each book is almost a fresh start for me — because the characters have aged and changed between books. In early books Rebus would use his physical strength to intimidate suspects. Now he is in his 60s and cannot impose to the same extent. So he has to use his wits and guile rather than his physique.
Thirty years of Rebus is a huge investment in terms of time and on building and sustaining a character. So did you or do you ever feel a tiny sense of regret that you may have been a different sort of writer if not for Rebus?
I get a theme I want to explore and then a plot that allows me to investigate that theme. Only then do I ask which character or characters I need. So a new book need not be a Rebus story or even a crime story. But so far I have found the crime novel to be the perfect form for my ongoing quest, and Rebus to be the best character to lead the inquiry. I want to discuss human nature, morality, politics and the contemporary urban environment — and crime allows me to do that.
Tell me a little on your writing process and routine.
I usually have to deliver a new book by June each year. So I start to get nervous around November. I think what story I want to tell, without doing deep planning. By January I’ve started to write. I will try to write most days, not revising, just getting the central plot down on paper. That takes 40 days. Then I polish and polish and fill in any narrative gaps. I also do any necessary research. I show the second draft to my wife who usually suggests changes and improvements. My publisher is sent the third draft in June. The book is published in November. By which time I am worrying about the next book.
