The Dead Hour by Denise Mina (A Paddy Meehan mystery)

During one scene in Denise Mina’s The Dead Hour, the series protagonist Paddy Meehan struggles to climb a tall gate in order to inspect a property possibly involved in a murder. Paddy, an overweight, insecure but determined Scottish Daily News crime reporter, eventually scales the door, but not before gracelessly falling into the mud and tearing her stockings.

The stockings are more than just an aesthetic inconvenience; Paddy supports her parents and one sister on her meager reporter’s salary and every penny counts, so it's not simply a matter of buying a new pair. Not to mention that it’s terribly cold in Scotland and wool stockings help. Still, frustrated but undaunted, Paddy nevertheless makes her way to the house to snoop around.

It’s the kind of scene Denise Mina handles exceptionally well. Her deft touch allows the protagonist to be brave without being invulnerable, intelligent but still prone to making utterly human poor decisions, and to remain themselves even while trudging through days punctuated by the small indignities that accompany being broke and on a lower social tier. 

I’ve whined before about heroines who come dangerously close to becoming bland, boring Mary Sues. Of course this woman detective has studied that obscure dialect of a lesser-known language, and of course they have impeccable fashion sense and yes, they’re good at Math and have a perfect sense of direction and handle all social morasses with diplomacy and aplomb. Yawn (and eye roll if they're pretty, too). Happily, Paddy Meehan will never run the risk of being that boring.

Thus this third installment of the Paddy Meehan series which begins, appropriately enough, when Paddy inadvertently accepts a bribe at the scene of a domestic violence incident that becomes a brutal murder. In all fairness, the much-needed, blood-stained money is thrust into Paddy’s hands by the man who answers the door and before she can react the door is slammed in her face.

Paddy’s internal vacillations about whether to keep the money or turn it in to the police as evidence, and the consequences of that decision for her both personally and professionally, turn a compelling thriller and mystery into something more literary and rich.

A counternarrative of an addict, from a completely different point of view, adds an undercurrent of suspense that keeps the reader turning pages. Mina’s ability to completely change narrative voice, syntax, perspective and style are comparable to Tana French.

Although I’m not overly familiar with Scotland’s recession during the 1980s, the dreary ghosts of empty factories and the lingering wounds suffered by the workers' families are an ever-present, sinister whisper throughout the story. Yet the reader is never bludgeoned over the head with it, either.

But all that is signature Mina, of course. One is forced to confront the totally unvarnished and only loosely fictionalized realities of poverty, sex trafficking, mental health care, (or the lack thereof) and much more in all of Mina’s novels. (Brace yourself when reading her phenomenal and gripping Garnett Hill  trilogy.) But the reader is never being proselytized, either. Reality simply is what it is, and there’s little use complaining about it.

Don't let that deter you from giving Mina a shot, however, even if that sounds a bit dark. Her books have intelligent, complex characters and her heroines all have a wicked, laugh-out-loud sense of humor that helps lighten the shadows of the brutal, objective truths.

In short, The Dead Hour is a pretty enjoyable installment in the series, although I concede a character development cliff hanger at the end left me frustrated and annoyed. In keeping with my cardinal rule for this blog, I won’t give spoilers, but suffice it so say I was left thinking, “Oh great, not another one!”

As a final note, allow me to indulge in a personal aside. There is a line in this book in which a new editor from London replaces the bedraggled, grizzled old-school editor. That dismissal is soon followed by the exit of several of the other reporters of a very old generation from a time during which writing a story from a bar nearby while drinking was not only the norm but damn near expected.

The presses leave the building. The sales staff and editors all move into cubicles on the floor beneath, exiled from the comfortably broken-in newsroom with its scarred tables, clanging typewriters and assorted detritus.

The line observes that now the newspaper could just as well be selling insurance, and no one would be able to tell the difference.

It reminded me, sharply, of when the small press that was housed adjacent to my first paper, The Pahrump Valley Times, was shut down so the paper could be printed in Las Vegas, about 45 minutes away.

Before then, I would sometimes go into the press building and chat with the press guys or just watch the presses whir. More than anything I loved to breathe in the sharp, slightly acidic smell of ink and be wrapped in the thudding rumble of events being churned onto giant rolls of paper. It felt like being right inside the world’s heartbeat.

I often lingered in the press room of my last paper, The Casa Grande Dispatch, too, for the basically the same reason. Both papers had wonderfully broken-in newsroom where reporters filed stories alongside wavering stacks of the newspapers next to their desks and the editor (or in the Dispatch’s case, the publisher) had the only real office. I suppose, in a way, they were the transition between Paddy’s old-school newsroom and today’s slick, cubicle-mazed offices.

At any rate, though I don’t think I’d want a return to the boorish, chauvinist, functioning-alcoholic newsrooms of the past (we had them here in America, too), I deeply appreciated Mina’s nod to the death of a certain era. 

Field of Blood by Denise Mina (A Paddy Meehan mystery)

Denise Mina, as I’ve mentioned in previous reviews of her work, certainly falls on the darker side of the spectrum in terms of setting, characters (even protagonists) and stories. The residents of Mina's Glasgow are often flawed in ways we can all recognize, if not relate to, and usually struggle to keep their head above water as they deal with circumstances of ethnicity, geography and, usually, class.

To read a Denise Mina novel is to see the world reflected in a brutally objective, but always compelling and artfully executed, mirror.

This would make for dreary reading were it not for her deadly wit, strangely reminiscent of Jane Austen in its often cynical social commentary.

In Field of Blood, the first installment of the Paddy Meehan series, Mina’s gift for showing how social mores and family ties ultimately control us all are in fine form, though there is less humor.

Paddy Meehan, A Glasgow native named after a real-life man wrongly convicted of murder and ultimately redeemed by the dogged work of an enterprising journalist, is a copyboy determined to become a journalist herself.

That backdrop alone – a Glasgow press room in early 1980s, when no women need apply and reporters openly drink on shift at the pub next door, long before print’s quick demise under the monolithic internet is even a speculative thought– makes for great reading in and of itself. Mina does not disappoint in who she populates the newsroom with either, as always maintaining wonderfully diverse voices for each characters (in a Mina novel, characters never sound the same, even when they're from the same neighborhood or SES). 

Still, readers of her Garnett Hill trilogy may feel, as I did, that there is something a bit rawer and less sophisticated in Mina’s writing in this book, and I wondered as I read this book if this wasn’t one of her earlier works.

Which isn't to say, in any way, one shouldn't read it. It is not to be missed. The brutal torture and murder of a toddler by two young boys is par for the course in terms of a dark subject matter. Moreover, this is one of the first book I have ever read where I was truly disturbed and unsettled within the first few pages, and I have read quite a bit of both true crime, crime reporting and fictional crime. But this murder lingered for reasons I won't say as it that would be a rather obnoxious spoiler.

For Paddy, the murder ultimately forces her to explore her ambition, her morals, her strengths and even her faith and family ties. The answers are sometimes messy, sometimes cruelly clear-cut, but all the more satisfying for that.  

American readers, myself included, may need to brush up on the social unrest in Scotland during 1981 between Catholics and Protestants and a worker’s movement, but it is not essential to be versed in these things to understand or enjoy this book. Mina, as always, will show you, whether you’re ready or not.

Before ending this review, it's worth adding a side note. Another thing that struck me about this book is that Paddy is a woman who is overweight and, naturally, trying to lose weight. As a woman who has struggled with her weight for her entire life, I have never read a more true account of what it is like to have the all-pervasive, ever-present internal dialogue of what want has/did/didn’t/shouldn’t have/will/won’t eat, each and every day. I found it refreshing and startling, and, if I am honest, it actually forced me to acknowledge how much I have allowed my own weight to be tied to my self-worth, and not for the better.

As a writer, I’m amazed at Mina’s ability to do this as, judging from her photos, she has not struggled with her weight. But perhaps she has. At any rate, I admire her courage and, honestly, it made Paddy a much more realistic character in the end. At the very least, it speaks for Mina's technical skill in crafting and maintaining character. 

So, if you’re a fan of Denise Mina to begin with, you’ll enjoy this book, but perhaps not as much as some of her others. For a series beginning though, it is a great beginning. I’m so looking forward to getting to know Paddy more in the future.

Garnethill by Denise Mina (The Garnethill Trilogy)

I read this book in one day primarily because of Denise Mina's unflinching, unforgiving and brutally honest portrayal of a myriad of social issues--all wrapped up nicely in an absorbing mystery told from a new point of view.

Maureen O'Donnell, who only recently was released from a mental health clinic and scrapes by as ticket vendor in Glasgow, didn't need to wake up after a night of drinking with a friend to see her boyfriend tied to a chair in the living room with his throat slit and his head barely hanging on to his body. But she did, and after the shock wears off, quickly realizes she's a suspect.

Maureen, despite her struggles with the sexual abuse she endured at the hands of her father, is smart, funny and rough edged, making her a good foil for DIC MeEwan.

Mina puts a refreshing (though at times almost difficult to read) perspective on mysteries by letting the reader see the chain of events through Maureen's eyes as opposed to the inspector's.

And Maureen isn't pretty and perfect. She smokes, drinks too much, swears and (more often than not with terrible timing) tells it like she sees it. She doesn't understand everything about why the police are pawing through her life (though she has a good idea, and isn't a fan of it), has an alcoholic mother, a drug-dealing brother, and two sisters with their own issues.

Aside from her brother, they all think that not only is she going to have another psychotic breakdown, but that she did it.

Helped by friends she made while in the mental institution and her best friend Lizzie, a worker at a shelter for battered women, Maureen gets closer to a shocking truth.

If anything about this book sounds familiar, than I have failed in this review. Nothing, not the characters, the narrative style, the setting or the point of view, has ever been done in the contemporary mystery genre before.