Book & Author Details:
All That’s Dead by Stuart MacBride
Publication date: 30th May 2019
There’s a darkness in the heart of Scotland…
The stunning new Logan McRae thriller from No. 1 Sunday Times bestseller Stuart MacBride.
Scream all you want, no one can hear…
Inspector Logan McRae is looking forward to a nice simple case – something to ease him back into work after a year off on the sick. But the powers-that-be have other ideas…
The high-profile anti-independence campaigner, Professor Wilson, has gone missing, leaving nothing but bloodstains behind. There’s a war brewing between the factions for and against Scottish Nationalism. Infighting in the police ranks. And it’s all playing out in the merciless glare of the media. Logan’s superiors want results, and they want them now.
Someone out there is trying to make a point, and they’re making it in blood. If Logan can’t stop them, it won’t just be his career that dies.
Can I make a polite suggestion? Please read the previous books. I am quite sure that, apart from being great stories to read, there is a wealth of back story that will assist with understanding some of the interpersonal dynamics here.
So, to the story. The narrative, shot through with humour, nevertheless delivers on tension at a somewhat frenetic pace. There is a real sense of the police running to catch up here, and this is apparent both in the interactions between colleagues, as well as their superiors, who are not portrayed favourably.
The bad guys become apparent reasonably early on in the book, and although there are some surprising twists, the straightforward nature of that plot thread really served to provide a steadiness against the feeling of chaos in the police investigation.
In summary, although this was a book which left me a little bamboozled at times with the sheer number of characters, it was still an enjoying, suspenseful read.
I voluntarily reviewed an advanced reader copy of this book.
Stuart MacBride was born in Dumbarton, but ran away to join the circus at the age of nine, where he specialised in wrestling bears for money (Going on to represent Great Britain at the Atlanta Olympics). In 1975 he won the Nobel Peace Prize for his revolutionary work on Irn-Bru, then went on to create the world’s biggest ball of bellybutton lint. In 1989 he joined the secret intelligence service, but was later invalided out due to a back injury sustained while performing a reverse-overhead-piledriver on a grizzly bear. Now confined to his pyjamas, Stuart fritters away his time writing crime novels set in Aberdeen and lying to journalists.
Or at least, that’s the version of events I gave Trend Magazine. They published it too…
In real life I was born in Dumbarton — no one knows why, not even my mother — and moved up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, dragging my mother, father, and a pair of wee brothers with me. There followed a mediocre academic career, starting out in Marchburn Primary School, where my evil parents forced me to join the cub scouts (specialising in tying unnecessary knots in things and wearing shorts). Thence to Middlefield Academy for some combat recorder practice.
Having outstayed our welcome in Heathryfold we stopped thencing and tried going hence instead. To Westhill. To a housing development built over the remains of a pig farm. Sounds a bit suspect, but that’s what the official story was when all the householders found teeth and bones coming to the surface of their neatly tended vegetable plots. Pig farm. Right… Eventually I escaped from Westhill Academy with a CSE in woodwork, a deep suspicion of authority, and itchy shins.
Here followed an aborted attempt to study architecture at Herriot Watt in Edinburgh, which proved to be every bit as exciting and interesting as watching a badger decompose. If you’ve never tried it, I can wholly recommend giving it a go (watching mouldy badgers falling to bits, not architecture). So I gave up the life academic and went a-working offshore instead. That involved a lot of swearing as I recall. Swearing and drinking endless cups of tea. And I think I had Alpen every morning for about a year and a half. Can’t look at a bowl of the stuff now without getting the dry boak, sod how regular it keeps you. After my stint offshore I had a bash at being a graphic designer, a professional actor, failed the interview to be an undertaker, passed the interview to be a marketing company’s studio manager, a web designer, programmer, technical lead… Then last, but by all means least, finally circling the career drain by becoming a project manager for a huge IT conglomerate.
Anyway, while I was doing all that IT stuff, I wrote a wee book about an Aberdonian detective sergeant and his dysfunctional colleagues: Cold Granite. HarperCollins bought it, and overnight I went from a grumpy project manager caterpillar to a writing butterfly. As long as you can picture a six-foot-tall, pasty-white, bearded butterfly with no wings, that spends all its time hanging about the house in its jammies.
I’ve been shortlisted for a bunch of things, won a couple of them (including Celebrity Mastermind), been lucky enough to have a couple of honorary doctorates conferred upon me (by the lovely Dundee and Robert Gordon universities) but my crowning achievement has to be winning the WORLD STOVIES CHAMPIONSHIP at the 2014 Huntly Hairst! How impressive is that?
Oh, and I own a banjo now. Banjos are cool.