From Publishers Weekly
Talk about antiheroes: the three narrators of this novel of London's gritty underworld are set on murder, revenge and larceny. Tony Meehan is a washed-up crime journalist currently ghosting the memoir of Eddie Doyle, "[j]ewel thief, bank robber, known associate of most of the major gangland faces," who's just out of prison after serving time for his role in a heist of £15 million in gold, most of which was never recovered. Julie McClusky, the daughter of a murdered gangster, has become a middle-class actress—but she's also searching for her father's killer under the guise of working on her boyfriend's movie about London criminals. Shady businessman Gary "Gaz" Kelly has always modeled himself on "[v]illains and gangsters. The Kray Twins. Harry Starks. Flash bastards. Legends." Unlike the Kray Twins, Harry Starks is Abbott's creation (last seen in 2001's
Long Firm); he's the supposed mastermind of the bullion theft, the possible key to the whereabouts of the gold and Julia's number one suspect. When Starks is spotted at Ronnie Kray's funeral, the search for him begins in earnest, and that search, as well as the crimes uncovered in its wake and committed during its progress, dominate the rest of the book. Arnott's plotting is intricate and his prose hard-edged, made more so by his atmospheric use of Cockney and slang and his close-up look at frightening but human villains.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
The shadowy underworld is bathed in limelight in this sly, postmodern denouement to the trilogy begun with
The Long Firm (1999)
and
He Kills Coppers (2001). It is the mid-nineties now, and evocations of bitter gangland violence have become the trendiest stimulant since espresso. Closeted mass-murderer Tony Meehan ghostwrites gangster tell-alls that he terms "truecrime" in sardonic allusion to Orwell's denatured dystopia. Actress Julie sorts through her own crime-family matters with alienation conned from Brecht, even as her bourgeois filmmaker beau affects street mannerisms while producing
Scrapyard Bulldog, a Tarantino-esque smash-and-bash carefully calculated to meet the public's forlorn craving for gritty authenticity. In the book's most diverting episodes, lowlife drug dealer Gaz Kelly adapts to high-fashion felony with knavish ease, emerging as an outlaw celebrity. The three narratives are finally linked via archvillain Harry Starks, but plot is incidental to cultural commentary that ranges from smart to glib. This is best read by Brit-pop enthusiasts in the seedy halflight of what has gone before. A much more effective American analog is Percival Everett's
Erasure (2001).
David WrightCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.