LAIDLAW'S LEGACY

During the pandemic, Ian Rankin stepped away from Rebus and into the shoes of friend and literary hero, the “Godfather of Tartan Noir” William McIlvanney.

- Craig Sisterson

We first see him in a pub in Hope Street, standing at the bar with his cigarette in one hand balanced by the glass of Antiquary whisky in his other. Broad-shouldered and “handsome enough,” in his late 30s and already wielding a visage weighed by baggage. An outlier, this Glasgow detective has made an impact beyond his chosen gig of catching crooks.

Even standing in the crowded pub, surrounded by fellow coppers seeing off a retiring colleague, “Jack Laidlaw seemed a man apart, easy to spot, almost as if he had a radioactive glow.”

A talented detective shuffled from team to team, never quite fitting in. Disappearing from the office to work the streets. Taking long bus rides to think and to get the feel for his city as it goes through so many changes in the 1970s. Enduring taunts about the philosophy texts on his desk; utensils in his search for the reasons why. Watching lesser peers become his superiors.

“When I first read the Laidlaw books, what might have been attractive was that he was a tough guy but also a philosopher,” says Ian Rankin, the modern king of British crime writing who’s now, in a “beyond the grave” collaboration with William McIlvanney to bring Detective Jack Laidlaw back to the page.