When Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature there were a few raised eyebrows. Whatever the merits of giving the prestigious award for his song lyrics, it’s probably safe to say he wouldn’t have won the award on the basis of his novels. There’s a long history of folk singers writing prose – Woody Guthrie and Leonard Cohen both tried their hands to mixed reception. Now Scottish singer James Yorkston – see Moving Up Country – is the latest to flex his creative muscles with this first crime novel, and we can be delighted with the results.
Tommy Bruce is late 30s or so, overweight and the owner/proprietor of a run-down, mouse-infested hotel in rural Perthshire which is just about as far from a going concern as it’s possible to get. It’s not near a city nor on the tourist track and Tommy neglects his fleapit, drinking away whatever meagre takings the infrequent visits of hikers bring in. The hotel might be the only material inheritance from his family but as the saying goes, it’s the scars that you can’t see.
Young Tommy was poor consolation for his parents after the death of their favourite son, and his mother, in despair, followed soon after. Tommy’s father drunk himself to death, and Tommy isn’t doing a bad job continuing in his footsteps. It will take something special to break the hold of his demons: guilt, low self-esteem and an awful loneliness.
Then, into his bar and in to his life steps Fiona McLean. Before long she’s helping out behind the bar, cleaning up the hotel, and giving Tommy a sense of purpose. Soon they are sharing a bed, though Tommy is so often drunk at that point in the evening that the following morning he’s unsure if they’ve had sex or not. Unfortunately, as crime fiction readers know so well, anything that is too good to be true, well, just isn’t true. Fiona tells him she’s pregnant and Tommy, though possessed of a certain naivety, can do the maths as well as the next mark. The baby isn’t his.
Yorkston does such a good job of developing Tommy’s character that when hope overcomes common sense, and Tommy allows his wish, his need, for this relationship to be real and meaningful, I totally bought in to it. What’s more, despite knowing better, I wanted it to be true too. George is born and the pair seem to be making a go of things. Any lingering hope is shattered though when Fiona invites an old flame to stay at the hotel. Simon Blair is in prison for arson and a residence and job will help secure an early release for him.
Gradually the cuckoo begins to take over the nest. What begins as a bit of cheek and a sly look develops into intimidation, mockery and violence. Tommy tries to stand up to his tormentor as best as possible, but is handicapped by his own timidity and the worry that, in the end, Fiona (and George) might choose Simon over himself. In the end, desperate to be rid of Simon, Tommy does the unthinkable.
Simon is tired of life as a small time hoodlum, and has ambitions that Tommy can help him with. All he has to do is convince an Irish firm that he’s Simon’s long lost older brother, legendary hardman Jim Blair. Backed in to a corner, Tommy has no choice but to go along with Simon’s plans and hope that an opportunity will present itself for Tommy to escape Simon’s grasp. Simon might have underestimated Tommy, but has he also underestimated the Irish gang too? And if he has, what will be the consequences?
Tommy The Bruce is as good a slice of Brit Grit as I have read in a long time; Yorkston has an ear for the local dialect, and his description of the hotel and its patrons is convincingly seedy. The petty cruelty and vanity of the criminals comes clearly across. It’s heavy on character, and relatively light on action, so keep that in mind.
For more Brit Grit, take a look at our reviews of Nick Triplow’s books Frank’s Wild Years and The Last Days of Johnny Nunn.
Oldcastle Books
Print/Kindle
£5.99
CFL Rating: 4 Stars
