… the Father of Tartan Noir
“His light was out but here I felt I could almost smell the smoke still drifting from its snuffing.”
I’ve just heard the sad news that William McIlvanney died yesterday, aged 79.
I came late to McIlvanney’s work when the Laidlaw trilogy was republished a couple of years ago. He is recognised as the progenitor of what has come to be known as Tartan Noir – gritty, realistic crime novels set in Scotland’s cities – and many of our top current crime writers, such as Ian Rankin, acknowledge his influence on their work.
But McIlvanney also wrote what would be classed as ‘literary fiction’ and indeed the quality of his writing lifts even his crime novels to a literary standard seldom reached in that genre.
“Glasgow was home-made ginger biscuits and Jennifer Lawson dead in the park. It was the sententious niceness of the Commander and the threatened abrasiveness of Laidlaw. It was Milligan, insensitive as a mobile slab of cement, and Mrs Lawson, witless with hurt. It was the right hand knocking you down and the left hand picking you up, while the mouth alternated apology and threat.”
“Coulda made something o’ himself. But a luckless man. All his days a luckless man. The kinna man woulda got two complimentary tickets for the Titanic.” The unintentional humour of her remark was like her natural appetite for life reasserting itself. Harkness couldn’t stop smiling. It was as if Glasgow couldn’t shut the wryness of its mouth even at the edge of the grave.
From his vantage point in Ruchill Park, Laidlaw looked out over the city. He could see so much of it from here and still it baffled him. ‘What is this place?’ he thought.
A small and great city, his mind answered. A city with its face against the wind. That made it grimace. But did it have to be so hard? Sometimes it felt so hard…It was a place so kind it would batter cruelty into the ground. And what circumstances kept giving it was cruelty. No wonder he loved it. It danced among its own debris. When Glasgow gave up, the world could call it a day.
“Son, it’s easy tae be guid oan a fu’ belly. It’s when a man’s goat two bites an’ wan o’ them he’ll share, ye ken whit he’s made o’. Listen. In ony country in the world, who are the only folk that ken whit it’s like tae leeve in that country? The folk at the boattom. The rest can a’ kid themselves oan. They can afford to hiv fancy ideas. We canny, son. We loass the wan idea o’ who we are, we’re deid. We’re wan anither. Tae survive, we’ll respect wan anither. When the time comes, we’ll a’ move forward thegither, or nut at all.”
But, imagining Scott’s nights here, I populated the emptiness. This had been one of his places and some small part of his spirit had been left here. Holding my own brief séance for my brother, I conjured vivid faces and loud nights. I saw that smile of his, sudden as a sunray, when he loved what you were saying. I saw the strained expression when he felt you must agree with him and couldn’t get you to see that. I caught the way the laughter would light up his eyes when he was trying to suppress it. I heard the laughing when it broke. He must have had some nights here. He had lived with such intensity. The thought was my funeral for him. Who needed possessions and career and official achievements? Life was only in the living of it. How you act and what you are and what you do and how you be were the only substance. They didn’t last either. But while you were here, they made what light there was – the wick that threads the candle-grease of time. His light was out but here I felt I could almost smell the smoke still drifting from its snuffing.
William McIlvanney was one of those few writers who could truly move the stars to pity. He will be greatly missed, but his words and his influence will continue to live on.

Photo: Chris Watt for The Telegraph
Sadly, I’m learning about his writing after his death. This is an author I’m definitely going to have to read and clearly, he will be missed. Thank you for sharing about his sad passing and his body of work.
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I don’t think he’s nearly as well known, even in Scotland, as he should be, but he really was one of the greats. If you ever get a chance to read any of his books, I hope you enjoy them.
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Lovely tribute. I knew him slightly – he was very kind to me in my teens, so I always liked him as well as his work. If you haven’t read it, can I suggest “Remedy is None”, which was the first book of his that I read.
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Thank you! Sad news – and he did seem like a good guy as well as being a great writer. I haven’t read that one – perhaps someone would like to add it to my Christmas list…
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Very nice, inspiring.
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Thank you. 🙂
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I’ve never read any of this work, but maybe I will now.
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He’s not as well known as he should be really. If you do ever get a chance to read any of his books I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. 🙂
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The excerpts were great.
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A lovely tribute, FictionFan. What a contribution he made to the genre. He will be sorely missed. Thanks for the reminder of his gifted writing style.
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Thank you, Margot. Indeed, he may even be better known for his influence on other people than for his own books these days, but I’m glad he’d come back into public awareness in the last few years. A great writer.
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Your post was a lovely way to pay tribute to a writer whose work you’ve enjoyed. The excerpts are excellent, would like to read Laidlaw. Weekend is the only book by William McIlvanney available from my library, I’ll check it out soon.
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Thank you! I haven’t read Weekend – that’s one of my regrets actually, that I felt I was just getting to know him. Just the day before, in fact, I’d been deciding which of his books to put on my list to Santa. Laidlaw is excellent, if you ever do get a chance to read it.
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A very fitting tribute. I’ve only read the first in the Laidlaw series, but your post reminds me of the quality of McIlvanney’s writing…
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Thank you! I haven’t read a lot of his stuff yet – the Laidlaw trilogy and Docherty. I can highly recommend the other two Laidlaw books though – the second in particular is just as good as the first. The third is set in Ayrshire, so didn’t resonate quite as strongly with me as the Glasgow ones but it’s still excellently written.
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Thank you for drawing my attention to William McIlvanney. I have to confess I’ve never heard of him until now, but I’m going to put that right asap. The TBR pile grows and grows.
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He’s not nearly as well known as he should be, even in Scotland. I think he went out of fashion for a while, but they’ve been republishing his stuff recently. If you do get a chance to read any of his stuff, I hope you enjoy it as much as I.
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I haven’t read any of his works, but the excerpts show me I’ve missed something. Now I’ll have to remedy the failure of my English teachers!
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He’s not as well known as he should be, even in Scotland, though his books have had a bit of a revival over the last couple of years – whuch is when I started reading them. But he really was a great writer – he’ll be missed.
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I was greatly saddened by this news as well. It’s thanks to this blog that I read Laidlaw, so thank you for drawing my attention to Mr. McIlvanney’s work!
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Oh, thanks, Stacia – I’m glad to know I’ve been able to spread the word about him a little bit, and also glad you enjoyed his writing. He’ll be greatly missed. Good to hear from you!
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Those quotations are so good. What a great writer.
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He’s one of these writers where almost every paragraph provides a great quote – and his characterisation is just as strong. He’ll be missed, for sure.
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Ah! Those two pics are the same person! I never realized that before. Sad to hear about his passing. Didn’t you want me to read Laidlaw at one point?
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Yes, just at different ages, I think. Very sad – I was surprisingly upset about it, to be honest. Yes, I think it did go on your TBR at one point, but it can wait till you’re finished Bleak House… *chuckles*
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You should know that I just told a drunk fellow who was bothering me tonight that I was 52.
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He’d have to have been drunk to think an 85-year-old could pass for 52! *sends over bulk shipment of wrinkle cream*
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Nah, he didn’t believe me.
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Think yourself lucky! It’s when people start to actually think you do look 52 that you should worry…
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[…] In memory of William McIlvanney… […]
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