Thursday, 19 March 2015

Dead Man Talking #22 - Stephen Volk

Strachan McQuade (deceased) Interviews Stephen Volk

Have to say I was more than a little thrilled when ITV Encore announced the near-legendary Stephen Volk was tasked with script-writing duties for the forthcoming TV adaption of Phil Rickman's 'Midwinter of the Spirit'. As a fan of the television drama, 'Afterlife' - a harrowing tale that explored the complex relationship between a talented/tormented medium (Lesley Sharp) and a highly-sceptical psychologist (Andrew Lincoln) - I couldn't have hoped for a better choice to transform Rickman's books to the small screen.
More recently Volk's was the writer behind the recent box-office supernatural chiller, 'The Awakening' starring Rebecca Hall and Dominc West. For many people however, his name will be forever remembered for 'Ghostwatch' the BBC hoax 'live' Halloween broadcast that scared the crap out of half the country when it was aired. 
In between writing screenplays, Volk has published two collections of short stories, 'Dark Corners' and 'Monsters in the Heart', as well as an award nominated novella, 'Whitstable' that featured the actor Peter Cushing in his latter days doing battle with a contemparory monster. His new book, 'Leytonstone' is available this month from Spectral Press. 
I'm also chuffed to bits that I'll be sharing book space with Stephen Volk later this year when we both have short stories published in an anthology of morbid tales inspired by the writing of M.R. James. 

Stephen Volk

Strachan McQuade R.I.P.

McQuade: Welcome back to Dead Man Talking. To set the scene for this interview I thought it might be appropriate to have a cup of tea by candlelight in the Glasgow City Morgue. I’m not sure why, but the pathologist has left behind some sheet-covered cadavers on the dissecting tables. Hopefully they won’t cause a disturbance. Hoi there! Volk! Stop peeking under that sheet and get over here. This isn’t Jim’ll Fix It, you know. 

Volk: I hope not! That bleached-blond clown always gave me the creeps. By the way, you can’t slander a dead person, but they can haunt you. I just thought I’d point that out.

McQuade: In Savile’s defence he did at least provide a whole generation of shell-suited, bling-flashing ruffians with a proper dress code. Without Savile they’d likely still be wearing Harrington jackets and Sta-Prest trousers. Now Volk, before we start, may I take this opportunity to congratulate you on the now notorious BBC spook-spoof that fooled an entire nation - Ghostwatch.

Volk: It fooled me! In that the reaction when it went out (Halloween, 1992) was a bit over the top. None of us were expecting that. Personally I thought the viewers generally might think “eh?” for about ten minutes, then “get” it, then go “ah!” and hopefully enjoy it for what it was. Which was a ghostly drama done in a particular way, (i.e. it pretended to be going out “live”).

McQuade: It certainly caught me out. I didn't even realise Michael Parkinson was dead when you recorded it.


Volk: His career might have been on life support, granted. Specsavers adverts at the time, I think. Though he is a legend.  Give the man his due.

McQuade: Furthermore, I do recall there was a post-broadcast slew of newspaper headlines, one of which involved a bloke who beat up his wife and claimed the show was directly responsible for his actions.

Volk: Yes. I believe so. Lots of tabloid fodder.

McQuade: That particular story reminds me of when I convinced my late wife that our church manse was haunted by the ghost of an 18th century sex-crazed Libertine, and whenever she caught me dallying with the village post-mistress, I always claimed, 'The ghost made me do it.'

Volk: Well it makes a change from “The Devil”...

Fun-time Fanny

McQuade: Hmmm... to be fair, the Devil was directly responsible for my horse-interference conviction, but that’s another story. Anyway, my dead Libertine ploy rebounded somewhat when the wife got wise to my ruse and turned the tables claiming the manse had acquired a new spectre, an East Neuk trollop by the name of ahem... ‘Fun-time Fanny’ who forced her into a series of sordid encounters with the butcher, the haberdasher and some bearded bloke who occasionally visited our kirkyard to do gravestone rubbings. 

Volk: Fun-time Fanny… Is that a new Channel Four series? If so, I reckon it’s a winner.

McQuade: Just shows what you know. I pitched the idea to Channel Four last year and they said it was too high-brow for their viewing audience. Righto, let’s dispel with the banter. My first question is this – in relation to that wife-beating, ghost-blaming newspaper article, have you ever committed an evil deed such as the non-return of a library book, or simply dropped a tea cup while washing the dishes, and then blamed it on a ghost? Or even a werewolf for that matter?

Would You Buy a Used
Hearing Aid From This Man?
Volk: I once responded to a “free hearing aid” advert in the paper simple because I fancied having a bit of plastic in my ear like Mr Spock. I was about ten. Sadly I was rumbled. One day A salesman knocked the door. I was upstairs sitting on the toilet at the time. I thought “Shit!” My dad knew what was going on and invited the salesman in, just to embarrass me. Which it did.

McQuade: That’ll teach you not to lock the toilet door. I remember one time just before a Sunday service I was in the bathroom inserting a suppository when our cleaning lady walked in. She startled me so much my sphincter went into spasm and I had to perform the whole service with my finger up my chuff-pipe. Thankfully it eased off towards the end and I was able to shake hands with my congregation on the way out. Unfortunately that was point the suppository kicked in and I had to beat a hasty retreat to spare my parishioners further calamity.
You mention in your bio that you dislike your cat. I myself detest those sly, sleekit creatures who spend all their spare time hanging around with witches and working on stratagems to steal a tasty slice of fish off my dinner plate. Is your cat a practitioner of the dark arts or is it just a rubbish colour? (ie ginger) And by the way – did one of those stiffs on the tables behind us just break wind?

Volk: No, they always smell like that. As for the cat, it is an Abyssinian (called “Asbo”), so a sort of fawn dappled colour – very beautiful, which contributes to it feeling innately superior to its keepers. It never shows an ounce of affection and if you stroke it, it bites you. If you tickle its tummy it gouges its claws into the back of your hand. Touching little things like that. And throwing up as soon as you’ve fed it in the morning. And once you’ve tidied up the vomit, then the thing is crying to be fed a second time. Bloody hell! I think cats were designed to test writers, to warn us against getting to up ourselves. But I often think when mopping up cat sick of a morning: “O, the glamorous life of a screenwriter!” 
McQuade: As a vomit-mopping, glamorous screenwriter, part of your job is to deconstruct and create a treatment of other writers’ work in order to squeeze it into shape for television broadcast. Do you ever worry the writer’s feelings will be hurt at seeing their pride and joy torn apart and then reassembled as something radically different? Or do you blithely assume they'll be too busy rubbing their hands with glee at the thought of the extra money to be made from TV exposure to care either way? By Jove, that smell is getting worse by the minute. Are you sure you haven’t trodden in dog’s dirt on your way here, Volk?

Volk: Dog dirt is like a bad review – you can never get it off your shoe. But yes… I hardly ever do adaptations, so for almost all my work your question is irrelevant! However, in the case of adapting a novel when I do, I feel strongly your job is not to do please the NOVELIST but to do justice to the BOOK. The truth is, the novelist will never thank you if you do a decent job, and neither will fans of the book, so while I WANT the novelist to be happy, I honestly cannot worry about that or I’d be frozen in my tracks and obviously it’s important not to be. As one screenwriter once said, there are two pieces of advice: if in doubt look in the book, and if in doubt, forget the book. (Whether the novelists are gleeful at their fee or not doesn’t bother me either – though I think it might be better for the author to get distance from the production and not fret about the outcome: he or she has the book published, so their opus remains intact whether we do a passable TV/film version or cock it up.)

Spot the Cabbage

McQuade: I once entered a competition called Spot the Cabbage. It was similar to Spot the Ball, only instead of marking an X where you guessed the ball was you had to... yes, I'm sure you can work out the rest yourself. And before you scoff, Volk, it's harder than you think to guess where exactly on a football pitch you'd find a cabbage. Anyway, first prize was the opportunity to write an episode of my favourite Scottish TV program. Naturally I choose 'Dr Finlay's Casebook' and caused no end of bother by having the elderly Dr Cameron embark on a spree of morphine induced euthanasia while persuading his patients to sign all their money, Premium Bonds, and livestock over to him in their wills. It took the scriptwriters at least a dozen episodes to get the program back on track, and I sometimes worry that episode may have given Harold Shipman an idea or two. My question is this, if you won Spot the Cabbage and were given the opportunity to write an episode for either:

a) Star Trek 

b) Rent-a-Ghost

c) Terry and June

d) Anything else you can think of

Which one would you go for?

Volk: Sherlock. Possibly. Or the old Jeremy Brett incarnation, really – or Cushing or Rathbone, both of whom are my favourite Holmeses. I’ve written Sherlock Holmes stories in print – and I’m writing a series of stories at the moment with Sherlock in them, though in a very different context to any we’ve seen him in before, in that he is the young “Watson” figure to another great (greater?) detective. Have a look in The Mammoth Book of Sherlock Holmes Abroad at my story “The Lunacy of Celestine Blot” and you’ll find out who that is. It’s out soon, if not on the shelves already. The TV show I’m re-watching at the moment and never tire of is The Avengers with Steed and Mrs Peel – such a lovely witty double act, and such bonkers, imaginative stories – quite unique. My dream project would be to revive that. I think it was the show that got me excited about TV drama when I was young, the idea of continuing stories with the same characters, which I eventually got a chance to do myself with two seasons of the ITV
series Afterlife (starring Andrew Lincoln and Lesley Sharp). Those ABC/ITC shows of the sixties were fantastic though, and amongst my fondest memories is The Prisoner, which baffled my parents, and consequently I absolutely loved (though I didn’t completely understand it at the time: now I think it’s possible the most radical and one of the best TV dramas ever made). Nowadays there are great shows to wax lyrical about too – imagine writing Penny Dreadful in particular: as a staunch fanatic about Victorian gothic and Hammer horror, I would love to.

McQuade: I have been informed you possess a drawing of Britain's most evil man, former top dog in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the beast himself, Lesley Crowtherly. Heavens knows why the BBC ever allowed him to host a top children's TV programme like Crackerjack. Do you feel you identify in some way with this rogue, apart from the fact you look so alike?

Volk: I’m fascinated by Aleister Crowley, yes, the old trickster. But not because he is like me – because he’s the absolute polar opposite of me! What a vile old bastard he must have been, deeply intelligent and knowledgeable of all things arcane and esoteric, a massive ego, and deeply manipulative and predatory. All of which I hope I’m not! I didn’t get interested in him when I was younger like a lot of people who dip into the occult when they discover supernatural fiction. However, lately I got obsessed by him through my interest in Dennis Wheatley and the two crossed paths (as they both did with Ian Fleming, interestingly enough). I’ve dabbled with a TV series ideas featuring Crowley, and I’m still interested in developing that, but I’m also writing a completely different novella about him later in life, too. Which I’m excited about – though that won’t be ready for at least a year.

McQuade: I tremendously enjoyed your novella ‘Whitstable’ which featured my favourite vampire-hunting Doctor Who actor, Peter Cushing. Does your latest book ‘Leytonstone’ feature any other classic British horror actors such as Boris Karloff or even trumpet-tooting Roy Castle? And while you give us a run down on the book I’ll go check which one of those corpses is venting that abominable stench.

Volk: Sadly ‘Biff’ Bailey, that thief of voodoo riffs who reaped the consequences of his actions, doesn’t get a look in (though Kim Newman and I once pondered the thought of doing an anthology of stories about him!). No, ‘Leytonstone’ is about the boyhood of Alfred Hitchcock. There’s a famous story the director repeatedly told – and recounted when he received his American Film Institute Life Achievement Award – that his father once took him to the police station when he was little and had him locked up either overnight or for a couple of hours, and when the lad was let out again his father said: “Now you see what happens to naughty little boys.” This had a deep effect on Hitch (so he claimed), not least in that he developed a lifelong fear of policemen, evident in many of his movies. Anyway, I was intrigued by this childhood incident of terror and trauma (for me it was emblematic of what might put a person on the road to terrifying others for a living) and first wrote it as a short film called Little H (the script of which appeared in my first story collection, Dark Corners  published by Gray Friar Press). After I’d written that I was nagged persistently by the feeling that there was more to be explored in the characters and ideas I had set up. I didn’t know whether the “short” was the first act or the third act of something bigger, but after a few years I started to work out what that was. (You can’t rush these things!) So in essence that’s what developed from a small acorn into what became the novella ‘Leytonstone’ which will be published soon by the wonderful Spectral Press (publisher of ‘Whitstable’). I’ve been tremendously gratified that the reviews so far have equalled the rave reviews garnered by ‘Whitstable’ – I honestly never thought lightning could strike twice but I’m delighted to say it seems to have done. 

McQuade: Sorry, I missed half of that. I got my hand stuck in that fat man’s stomach. You’d think these lazy pathologists would stitch them up properly before buggering off home. Still, at least we now have soggy biscuits with our tea. 
One last question. One of your current projects involves transforming Phil Rickman’s novel, ‘Midwinter of the Spirit’ into a three part TV drama. Has this posed any particular challenges given that Rickman’s readers can be a pernickety bunch and will blame you for anything they feel doesn’t stay true to the original book, not to mention holding you responsible for everything from the font used in the closing credits to the casting and the use of false moustaches.

Volk: I am sure the fans of the book/s (and of the much-loved main character, Merrily Watkins) will be girding their loins for the disappointment! No, seriously, I hope they won’t be, but again if you fretted about that you’d get nowhere. My job is essentially an ongoing and fluid negotiation between the author’s raw material, the producers’ notes, the channel’s expectations, and my own take on how to make the material work in a different medium. There is a surprising difference between how characters work on the page and making scenes “playable” for actors. But what drew me to the books – apart from the intoxicating mix of crime and the supernatural – was that the character of Merrily, a woman vicar, is not at all preachy and in fact rather sceptical – and as far from the movie idea of an “exorcist” as possible. Though she is entering this world of being a Deliverance Consultant (as it is called in the C of E) she’s an everywoman, but she is full of flaws, almost at times an emotional mess. Certainly in this book she’s nothing like an expert. But what I loved most was her relationship with teenage daughter, Jane, after the recent death of her husband, which is when we pick up the story. That and the books’ setting against a backdrop of British landscape and Christian and pagan history – that seems to me very different from anything on TV at the moment, yet also very “ITV” at the same time. I’m tremendously excited about this project, which should be coming to your screens in the Autumn on ITV Encore as one of their very first original dramas. Especially as the amazing Phil Collinson (famous for Doctor Who) is producing, and I just heard who we’ve got to play Merrily and she is just perfect (and no, I’m not telling you who!).

McQuade: Well, thanks for that Volk. I have a chiropodist appointment soon and have to rush off. That vile stench is still annoying me however, I wonder if it’s coming from that woman with so much pubic hair it looks like she’s wearing a sporran. What’s that? How do I know about…? Um, no need to go into that now. Look, just bring the candle over and hold it right here. No, a bit closer… 

BANG (Editor - Well, fancy that...)

McQuade: By Jove, it was her after all. Erm… sorry about you losing those fingers, Volk. I imagine you can still type with one hand. 

Volk: I actually type with two fingers. But I’m very fast. They’re ablur a lot of the time, I tell you… ABLUR! 

McQuade: No need to shout. I’ve got a proper hearing aid. Not one of those malfunctioning Vulcan models that tends to apply a death-grip to one’s ears after a few hours. Anyway, thanks for the chat and do remember to pick up those fingers before you leave. Especially the one that landed on the hairy woman’s sporran, or they might think Savile really is haunting the place...

Visit Stephen Volk's web page

Buy Stephen's new novella 'Leytonstone' 

Buy Whitstable

Friend Stephen Volk on Facebook

Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Dead Man Talking #21 - Graham Smith

Strachan McQuade (deceased) Interviews Graham Smith

Graham Smith is the latest crime author to emerge from the talented stable of writers at Caffeine Nights Publishing. This month sees him unveil two new books, the first being a collection of short stories ‘Major Crimes Team - Vol 1:Lines of Enquiry’ and the second, a full length novel, ‘Snatched From Home’. Graham has been part of the so-called underground writers collective for some time both as a writer and a reviewer.  I first chanced upon him when we shared book space in the charity anthology ‘A Night at the Movies’, after which I noticed his name crop up on a regular basis on various Flash Fiction and Hard Boiled Crime web sites.

We finally met up a few years ago at the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival where in between interviewing authors he found time to nip into the bar and buy me a pint. Or maybe he simply swiped one from an unguarded table. The gesture was appreciated anyway. Goes without saying I’m delighted to see him move on to the next level and hope he sells a bucketful of books. In fact, Graham is now so famous I found his mug-shot staring out at me from the Sunday Sun while I tucked into my bacon and eggs at the weekend. Funny thing is, when I looked down, my last rasher of bacon had been nicked and I swear there was a grease stain on his newspaper tanktop where there hadn’t been one before. Spooky, eh?

Strachan McQuade R.I.P
Graham Smith

McQuade: Welcome to Dead Man Talking – and for this interview I’m down at the Scottish borders in the picturesque town of Gretna Green, traditionally famous for its runaway brides. In case you get the wrong idea, no, I’ve not eloped with my old church organist, Mrs Stop (an inappropriate name if there was one) to arrange a clandestine betrothment. I’m at the Mill Forge Hotel (reasonable rates and late night room service) to interview Graham Smith. Not a man to do things by halves, Smith has two new books being published this month.

Just so you know, Smith, as a man of the cloth, I’m still licensed to conduct weddings and if you’re ever stuck for a Minister I’d be more than happy to help out if the money was right.

Smith: Thanks for having me over. It’s always nice to meet men of the cloth who are open to financial inducements. As you’re not the youngest man-of-the-cloth about town I shall conduct all fiscal notifications in shillings. I should also take this opportunity to make it clear that we no longer offer late night room service due to our one-legged roller-skater being absent due to maternity leave with her seventh child.


McQuade: Guests in the Invergallus Ramada were always rather disappointed when they ordered Room Service, and instead of a steak sandwich they got me reading them a sermon and singing a few psalms before handing round the collection plate. Please congratulate One-Stirrup Sally, your pregnant one-legged, roller-skater on her latest delivery. Funnily enough, the plimsoll fixated manager of the Invergallus Chinese Take-Away also had only one leg. We called him Mr Wan San Shu. 
Very well, that’s enough opening banter. Let’s start off with the forthcoming books. One is a novel and the other is a short story collection, and both feature the same characters. Any reason for this casting duplication lark other than simply being too lazy to make up new characters?


Smith: You’ve got me nailed on the lazy aspect. If I could be bothered to mount a defence, it would be that the short story collection introduces the various members of the police team who feature in the novel.

McQuade:  That’s an interesting idea. If only Rankin or Billingham had thought of that it would have saved them the time and trouble of writing half a dozen novels to set the scene properly for their respective detectives, Rebus and Thorne.

Will there be any signing events for the books? And if so, will there be free drink and food? Dancing girls would too much to expect, I suppose. When I published my best-selling book ‘Invergallus’ I held a singing event, complete with a tartan Karaoke machine that only played Kenneth McKellar and Moira Anderson backing tracks. Maybe you should be thinking of a similar crowd-pulling stunt.

Smith: I will be launching the novel with trumpeted fanfare at Waterstones in Carlisle. A shop where I have spent many hours browsing and even more hours buying wonderful books. I’ll be following that up with a signing event at Dumfries Waterstones two days later. While I’m too Scottish to consider free food and drink, there will certainly be a wee drinkathon after the launch. Sadly I do not know any dancing girls, but if any cross my palm with alcoholic beverages I could be persuaded to let them audition. Simon Cowell has filed an injunction which prevents me from going with a half mile of all Karaoke machines, tartan or otherwise.

Snatch the dog
McQuade: Don’t talk to me about Simon Cowell. I auditioned for Britain’s Got Talent last year and planned on simulating a sheep dog trial by having a dancing border collie called Snatch herd some moon-walking sheep into a pen. Unfortunately, on whistling my first command to Snatch, my false teeth flew out and landed in Amanda Holden’s lap. It certainly didn’t help matters when the dog tried to retrieve them. Bloody hell, all I said was, Fetch, Snatch! Cowell disqualified me on the spot and erm… strangely enough, Holden kept the dog.

Anyway, Smith, you were a member of, a well-respected book review panel. Did you get to wear a funny uniform and flash a warrant card? And please confirm or deny the rumour you took down Mo Hayder’s particulars.

Mo Hayder
Smith: There isn’t a uniform and all allegations of flashing cannot be commented on due to ongoing legal proceedings. I can confirm the rumour about Mo Hayder and her particulars. After all I started it. My “audition” for was a review I did of Mo Hayder’s particularly good Pig Island, in which I particularly commented on the particular particles of her particular talents.


McQuade: That last sentence would definitely pose me problems without my teeth. Now then, from your experience in the hotel trade you must have come across all sorts of odd people on which to base to base your fictional characters. Come to think of it, I used members of my own church congregation to populate my book and didn’t even bother to change the names. In saying that, not many of my congregation could actually read, so no harm done. Sorry, I’m rambling a bit. We were talking your hotel guests. So, do you ever kill any off (in your book) if they are particularly obnoxious and fail to use the brush provided for cleaning the toilet? And please tell us of any hilarious hotel related japes like finding a guest dead in bed and dressing them up in stockings and suspenders before the coroner arrives.

Smith: I have many tales I could tell about the goings on at a hotel, but I cannot share them here out of concern for my solicitor’s blood pressure. I never write anyone directly into fiction as they all know where to find me. Instead I look at traits, mannerisms and general behaviour towards others as research for fleshing out characters. I don’t know (or want to) just what it says about me that the things I pick up on are always the unpleasant ones.

McQuade: Only seeing the bad traits in other people says to me you’re in the wrong job. Perhaps you should be a policeman… or a judge on Britain’s Got Talent.

One last question, Smith. There are two schools of writing where police procedurals are concerned. One group is meticulous and keep the details of police work accurate to reflect the ever-changing processes and hierarchy. The other bunch, simply want to dress up their character as a copper and electrocute criminals with Tasers, uncaring that real police officers get upset that no proper paper-work is taken care of. Which group do you belong to?

Smith: I have splinters in my interesting areas from sitting on this particular fence. While I feel there should be realism and fact at the root of all stories, I don’t want to read or write a police manual. Authentic procedure will fly out of my window at a great rate of knots if it needs to. I’m lucky my lead character DI Harry Evans is pretty much a renegade so I can have him doing the wrong thing whenever I want. Whenever I have him do something totally wrong I counterbalance it with a spot of narrative or have someone call him on it.


Cumbrian kebabs
McQuade: That’s very responsible of you, Smith, as we don’t want the British public to think our coppers can break the rules by planting evidence or pushing suspects down stairs without at least getting some narrative chucked at them. Thank you very much for your time and I wish you the very best of luck with your books. I’m sure you have a long and successful writing career ahead of you. (Editor – that sounds ominous) Look out, Smith! Here comes One-Stirrup Sally roller-skating along the path carrying what looks like a ten foot lance under her arm. (Editor – Told you so) Some idiot must have ordered the extra-large Cumbrian kebab via room service. Crikey, she must be doing at least 40 mph on that roller-skate. I’d get off the path quickly if I were you, Smith, or else…

(Cue sound of skewered hotel manager)

McQuade: Ah, that was messy. Not much that can be done now, except… Quick, someone stick stockings and suspenders on Smith before the coroner arrives.

Visit Graham's web site

'Snatched from Home' on Amazon

'Major Crimes Team' on Amazon

Thursday, 17 October 2013

Dead Man Talking #20 - Russel D. McLean

Strachan McQuade (deceased) Interviews Russel D. McLean

After swanking it up this year with Rankin and McIlvanney at the Harrogate Crime Festival, I ended a great day by going to dinner with Scottish-based crime writers James Oswald and Russel McLean, both of whom admittedly sat as far up the table from me as they possibly could without actually eating their dinner on the fire-escape. However, by scrawling death runes on napkins using tomato sauce and then passing them along the table, I did manage to scare Russel McLean into doing this interview for Dead Man Talking.

McLean is the author of the excellent J. McNee private investigator novels, ‘The Good Son’, ‘The Lost Sister’, and ‘Father Confessor’ as well as a book of short stories called ‘The Death of Ronnie Sweets (And Other Stories)’ He hails from a small village near Dundee, has a beard, wears his hat at a rakish angle and sometimes bashes innocent bystanders on the head with his travel bag. Despite these glaring flaws you should dash off to your nearest bookstore and add him to your collection. He's really rather good.

Strachan McQuade R.I.P.
Russel McLean P.I.

McQuade: Today I am interviewing yet another writer with a beard, Russel D. McLean, who sets his gritty tales of crime fiction in the grotty city of Dundee. To make McLean feel at home I’ve arranged to hold this interview in the middle of the Tay Road Bridge. Thankfully neither of us drove here on a bus containing more than sixteen passengers, thus avoiding £1.40 on the toll charges. Hang on, I’ll just wait until this large truck passes by before commencing with the interview as I can barely hear myself speak over the slipstream of the traffic as it is.

: Oh dear God, we’re going to die!

McQuade: Oh stop shaking, McLean, we’re perfectly safe here on the dividing barrier. Righto, let’s start.

I can count on the fingers of one hand, the number of well-known writers whose work is linked with Dundee. Let’s see, there’s William McGonagall, whose fine prose still sends a shiver up my spine. (Editor - last seen on a park bench in Harrogate – McQuade's spine that is, not McGonagall) DC Thomson who wrote stirring adventures about a desperate, big-chinned cowboy named Dan. And now you, McLean. For those disputing my arithmetic, the answer is Yes, I do only have three fingers on that hand, a dog buried the other two. Anyway, my first question is this – seeing as they built a new Tay bridge in tribute to McGonagall’s epic work ‘The Tay Bridge Disaster’, and erected a statue to Thomson’s cow-pie munching anti-hero, Desperate Dan, what sort of lasting monument should mark the work of Russel D. McLean?

McLean: Probably a pub. Or a beer. Yes, my own beer would do quite nicely. Brewed here in the city, of course. Either that or a giant statue of my beard. In fact the more I think about it, let’s go with the bronze beard....

McQuade: A big bronze beard? You do realise people might mistake that a tribute to Sophia Loren? Or even Lulu, come to that.

Instead of foisting yet another maverick Detective Inspector upon the world, you have embarked upon a more traditional approach to crime writing by casting your J.McNee character in the time-honoured mould of a Private Investigator or PI for short. (Editor - in Dundee presumably pronounced as Peh) Was this a conscious decision to hark back to the golden age of Crime Noir? Or were you simply too lazy to acquaint yourself with modern day police procedures like other harder working writers do? Oh, and was that Lorraine Kelly who just passed us driving a Ford Capri?

Lorraine Kelly

McLean: I doubt it was Lorraine. She only ever uses the airport. I believe they’re planning on renaming it Lorraine Kelly International...

But, yes, as to the question, it was actually deliberate. I couldn’t think of any other Scottish PI’s, and I figured that I could try and do for Dundee what Lawrence Block did for New York, what Chandler did for LA and what Hammett did for San Francisco. Lofty ambition, no? Whether I succeeded is up to the reader, but I do think the PI can go places that a traditional police detective can’t. With McNee I get to cross some lines that Rebus and Rankin never could, and I like that idea. Someone who believes in justice but does not necessarily have to follow the letter of the law. Oh, and the research was still important. Real investigators have their own procedures and sets of ethics. So I was very lucky to have some help from a man named Peter Heims who was one of the oldest active investigators working at the time, and a really nice guy who let me ask him all kinds of dumb questions. He died this year, which was a real shame and a loss to the investigative community. Of course, as Peter himself pointed out when I was talking to him, McNee is not a real investigator and there’s a lot of stuff he does that a real investigator would not do, ethically speaking. But dramatic licence is part and parcel of a compelling crime novel, and I hope that everything’s underpinned with a sense of reality that comes from the conversations I had with Peter.

McQuade: Barely heard a word of that due to the traffic but I imagine it made some sort of sense. Your three McNee novels, ‘The Good Son’, ‘The Lost Sister’, and ‘Father Confessor’ have titles that show a distinct underlying pattern, namely in playing upon references to immediate family members. Is this a quirky co-incidence? Or can we expect the next one to perhaps be called, ‘The Lacklustre, Short-Sighted Cousin’ or ‘The Shifty Uncle Nobody Talks About Because He Was Once Caught In An Embarrassing Embrace With A Yorkshire Terrier? By Jove! Someone just leaned out their car window and implied I play the maracas. Bloody cheek.

: Now that might have been Lorraine Kelly... sounds like something she’d do...

Anyway, yes, the family motif was very deliberate. Again calling to mind one of the other great PI writers, Ross MacDonald, who often played with the family motif. I have a thing for family, for exploring what it means, what it can do to people. Sometimes the family motif is not as literal as it sounds. And the next book is called Mothers of the Disappeared. The title was given to me by Canadian author Sandra Ruttan when she saw the first synopsis. The book’s changed a lot since then but the title remains rather appropriate. Oh, and the last book (number 5) in the McNee sequence is called Cry Uncle.

McQuade: I’d like to know a bit more about this Cursed Mask of yours. You see, I once owned a pair of cursed swimming trunks. Every time I wore them something bad happened. Apart from the time they fell down while I was conducting a funeral, and another occasion when I got stung by a jellyfish while paddling in the sea at Anstruther, the final straw was being given a stern ticking-off by the Moderator at the 1973 Synod for draping them over a statue of John Knox.  Anyway, this mask of yours. It doesn’t happen to be a gas mask, does it? I find those scary enough with being cursed.

: Yes, that does sound like the fault of the trunks, doesn’t it? The mask was in a flat that I moved into here in Dundee. All around the place there were wee notes on the wall when I first came in, like, “This is a fridge,” and, “This door sticks a little.” There’s a walk in cupboard in the bedroom, and inside I found a leather mask in the shape of a woman’s face. The note next to it said, “This mask has been here for five previous tenants. We were told not to move it. We pass on the same advice to you.” I haven’t moved it. And now that I’m sadly leaving that flat behind, I’m going to leave a similar note. I don’t want the next tenant to accidentally open up a portal to hell or something.

McQuade: One last question. Earlier in your writing career you wrote a Dr Who story that unfortunately was rejected. I’m sorry to hear that. I once wrote a risqué episode of Dr Finlay’s Casebook which offended the BBC (and Dr Cameron) so much they tripled my license fee and threatened to strike my church off the Songs of Praise roster. Anyway, which Doctor were you writing about? Hopefully not Sylvester McCoy. He was rubbish. And what do you think of Peter Capaldi being instated as the 12th Doctor?

McLean: Unfortunately for you, Sylvester McCoy was the Doctor I grew up with and I maintain he is much better than his reputation with some purists might suggest. Certainly in his last year he found an inherent and interesting darkness which the Virgin novels exploited and which I had intended to do, too. Of course, it was a teenager’s novel and as such a bit daft. I would still kill for the chance to write for Who in any medium.

Sylvester McCoy
As to Capaldi: what a brilliant choice. I rather liked Matt Smith but all that boundless energy could be exhausting. I think Capaldi’s going to dial it back a bit and be absolutely brilliant as a darker but no less alien Doctor. The Doctor should be different. He should feel alien. he is, after all, a Time Lord. That’s why, and this always gets me into trouble with folk, I’m not a big fan of Peter Davison. He is the nicest and most human of the Doctors which to me is not as interesting. I do think Davison was great on screen - he is a superb actor - but what he got in script terms didn’t necessarily interest me that much. It was as though they forgot the Doctor was not of this world. Was different. Was dangerous.

McQuade: Brrrrr. Getting a bit cold sitting here. Fancy some of my home-made scotch broth, McLean? And yes, this is the same flask Ian Rankin left behind in the Little Chef a few months back. A tenner and it’s yours. The flask that is, not the soup That’s free of charge. (Editor – though probably not free of bacteria)

Mclean: Thank you very much. Do you have a change of this twenty? Hey come back! You owe me a bloody tenner!
McQuade: Sorry, McLean, in a rush. I’ll post it to you. (Editor – no he won’t) Thanks for the interview. Mind you don’t lean back too far as there’s a big petrol tanker coming up fast behind you.

(Blaring air horn and THUNK)

McQuade: Ah, he obviously didn’t catch that. I may as well retrieve that flask of scotch broth before the ambulance arrives. Waste not want not. 

Visit Russel McLean's web page

Visit Russel McLean's Amazon Page

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Mezzanine and Other Curiously Dark Tales

Mezzanine and Other Curiously Dark Tales

A collection of curiously dark tales including the vengeful victims of a serial killer, dead wives reanimated for domestic chores, diesel trains possessed by demons, lusty inflatable crocodiles, haunted Christmas cards, corpses posing as movie stars, and a rapist killer with senile dementia. From the author of Carapace, 1-2-3-4, The Garden of Remembrance and Dreaming in the Snakepark.

Thursday, 25 July 2013

Dead Man Talking #19 - Ian Rankin

Strachan McQuade (deceased) Interviews Ian Rankin

Last week at the Harrogate Crime Festival I discovered a hangover cure far more potent than raw eggs, Irn Bru, or even square sausages dipped in twenty year old malt whisky. So next time you’re suffering horribly like I was, simply find yourself a table beside a couple of living legends of the Scottish writing scene. Worked wonders for me. The two writers in question were William McIlvanney and Ian Rankin. After aggressively badgering both men to pose for photographs plugging a new anthology of short stories, ‘Noir Carnival’  (you owe me big time, Kate Laity), I took a deep breath (forgot to exhale and almost blacked out…) then enquired if either fancied talking to Strachan McQuade. I’m sure William McIlvanney gracefully nodded his agreement, but in all the excitement I sort of forgot to get his contact details. Doh. But all is not lost. Ian Rankin furrowed his eyebrows and threw me a dubious look, but he did at least promise to look at the questions. And blimey! He’s only gone and done it. So…

There’s not much I can say about Ian Rankin that’s not been said before in a far more eloquent fashion. But for the benefit of any Neolithic Picts recently dug from a peat-bog and revived using a car battery, jump leads and balsamic vinegar – Ian Rankin might possibly be the fifth most famous Scot ever, just slightly behind Robert Burns, William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, and Shrek. The author of a zillion successful novels including those featuring everyone’s favourite cop ‘Rebus’, Rankin continues to lead from the front with his own unique brand of Tartan Noir that fuses crime, contemporary music, Indian Pale Ale, and the psycho-geography of Edinburgh’s rank-rotten underbelly. 

Many thanks to Caitlin Sagan for the Harrogate photograph.

Strachan McQuade R.I.P.

Ian Rankin


McQuade: This episode of Dead Man Talking comes to you from a Little Chef cafeteria somewhere on the A9 between Pitlochry and Inverness. We chose this location, not only as a barely perceptible nod of the head to the most recent Rebus novel, but also because Little Chef offers a 50% Presbyterian Minister's Discount every second Tuesday. So while I tuck into fish, chips and mushy Peas (Rankin brought his own sandwiches and thermos flask of tea if youre interested) I'll set the ball rolling with my first question.

Some of your book titles have strong musical connections. For example, there's 'Let it Bleed' (The Rolling Stones), The Falls (The Mutton Birds) and Black and Blue (ahem...... The Backstreet Boys) As a man of a different generation I'd have been more drawn to your work if you had pilfered song titles such as Kenneth MacKellar's Eurovision entry 'A Man Without Love' or indeed, Andy Stewart's 'Donald Where's Your Troosers'. My question is this - when stuck for a new book title, do you simply flick through your gramophone collection for inspiration or visit a High Street retail outlet like Woolworths, whom I imagine have a broader selection of current chart toppers?

Rankin: Ah, dear-departed Woolies - I used to buy records there back in the day. Those ghosted Top of the Pops collections were so reasonably priced. And dreadful, too, of course. I use music in my books because I am a frustrated rock star. My first band, The Amoebas, existed only on paper and inside my head. (I was 12.) Aged 18 I joined Fife's second-best punk group, The Dancing Pigs. We lasted 10 months or so. As a result, my musical career has to live on vicariously through book titles and Rebus's late-night vinyl orgies.

McQuade: By Jove! Dont talk to me about those sinfully depraved images on Top of the Pops long playing records. I still maintain those provocative covers, adorned with bikini-clad young women holding beach-balls aloft, encouraged promiscuity, lewd behaviour and dancing, and no doubt was the likely cause of so many disco-themed dogging sites springing up in my parish! Sorry, did I spit a bit of fish in your eye just now? How rude of me.

Now, Rebus is regarded by most of your readers as the quintessential, die-cast maverick cop. Did you deliberately create squeaky-clean, whistle-blowing, tell-tale-tit, Malcolm Fox as the perfect illustration of the anti-maverick police clipe? And if so - was this polarisation a moralistic ploy to demonstrate that decent, upstanding police officers can top the book charts without incurring moribund stagnation with regard to their promotional prospects? And is that salmon paste on your sandwich? I'd be happy to do a part-exchange swap for these mushy peas if you like.

Rankin: Princes Salmon Spread - paste royalty, my friend. Keep your peas! But to answer your question, I got talking to an Internal Affairs cop and realised the fictional version would be the antithesis of Rebus - playing by the rules, working well in a team, etc. Nobody would read Fox and think of him as Rebus Lite. The challenge was: can I make such a character interesting and appealing? Having spent 2 books on this project, I then decided to show readers what it's like to be a tainted cop on the receiving end of Fox's attentions. Hence the return of Rebus in Standing In Another Man's Grave.

Shocked Otter
McQuade: I once tripped and fell head-first into another mans grave at a funeral, but thats a story for another time. Lets just say, sherry was involved. Sorry, where was I? Ah, yes, back when I was a young minister, I spent an uncomfortable night banged up in the police cells due to trumped up charges of exposing myself to an otter. It was an utterly ridiculous allegation as I had no idea the otter was even watching at that precise moment. Have you ever spent a night in the 'Clink' for research purposes? Or any other reason, come to that?

Rankin: Never a whole night. I've visited cop-shops, of course. And prisons. And even Death Row in Huntsville, Texas. I've sat in cells and interview rooms and comms centres. But I don't want to get too cosy with the police. I don't want my books to become PR exercises for the constabulary. Having said which, I've usually found the polis to be helpful. It wasn't always thus. When I walked into a cop shop in 1985 to research my first Rebus book, the detectives saw a scruffy character spouting a dubious story about writing a novel. As a result, I became a suspect in a case they were working on...

McQuade: If it was possible to stick you in a time machine and have you play a game of dominoes with Sir Walter Scott - who would win? And why? If you're rubbish at dominoes we can always arrange a cribbage match instead.

Domino Champ 1890
Rankin: Years since I've played cribbage. Used to be handy at three-card-brag when we played for our wage-packets in the chicken factory of a Friday afternoon. Dominoes... My dad was a demon. He could count which doms were still to be played. Beat me fairly consistently. On the other hand, could Sir Walter play at all? Maybe I could channel my dad and whip him.

McQuade: Im assured Scotty won the Black Spot Trophy in 1890 held at the Inversnaid Hotel. His opponent was Daniel "Domino" Defoe, so he might not be such an easy touch as you think, Rankin. (Editor- they had time machines back then, too?)

Lastly - back to Rebus and Fox. Rebus is instantly recognisable by his surname (check the Radio Times if you don't believe me) while Malcolm Fox always requires both names when mentioned in casual conversation. A prime example of this phenomenon would be, 'Fancy Malcolm Fox turning up in the last Rebus novel.' So, will you feel Malcolm Fox has only been fully embraced by your readership when he simply gets referred to as Fox? Hmmmm - just noticed I already did just that at the start of the question. Sort of tripped myself up here. But I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. By the way, I'm finished with these chips if you want to help yourself. Sorry about the flecks of denture-paste on those two at the edge of the plate. Just rub them with a napkin and they'll be good as new.

Rankin: Not too many Rebuses in the world but plenty of Foxes. Maybe I add Malcolm so as to avoid confusion. Also maybe because he is a slightly softer character - you can imagine calling him Malcolm to his face while you'd have to have known Rebus for decades before feeling comfortable with 'John'. Right, I've finished my tea and sarnies. Time to get back on the dreaded A9. I'd give you a lift, but I've got death metal on the car stereo. Probably not your thing. Cheery-bye.

McQuade: Wait, hold on…

Sound of door slamming closed and strains of death metal as car revs up

McQuade: By Jove, I only wanted to tell Rankin he’s left his thermos flask behind. Ah, probably not important. Not as if he needs it to stop his car from hitting a tree or anything…

Sound of screeching brakes and car hitting tree.

McQuade: Then again...