Reviews for The Shadow of the Black Earl
Westender magazine, January/February 2019
Dundee Courier
Daily Record, September 3 2018
Daily Record, September 15 2019
Old Morality: A Review Of Charles E McGarry’s The Shadow of the Black Earl…
https://scotswhayhae.com/
September 26 2018
https://scotswhayhae.com/
September 26 2018
One of the most welcome literary surprises of last year was Charles E. McGarry’s novel The Ghost Of Helen Addison. It introduced the world to private investigator, and bon viveur, Leo Moran, whose gift of second sight is both a blessing and a curse. To say this is a Glaswegian gumshoe with a difference is ridiculous understatement writ large. Quite simply, you will never have met a character like Leo Moran. In the SWH! review we said, “With The Ghost Of Helen Addison Charles E. McGarry has presented a new voice to Scottish crime fiction, and a memorable character to match. I’m looking forward to seeing how these novels develop…”. Well, look no further as the man is back in The Shadow Of The Black Earl.
If you liked the first Leo Moran mystery you are going to love this one. After a particularly upsetting funeral the dapper detective goes to stay with his now firm friend, the extravagantly named Fordyce Greatorix, at his family home of Biggnarbriggs Hall. There he encounters a range of eccentric characters who would not be out-of-place in an Agatha Christie novel. What unfolds is a whodunit which delves into the world of the occult, masonic and pagan rituals, and police corruption, as well as touching on every one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and then coming up with a few more. If you didn’t read the previous novel you may think this is business as usual in terms of Scottish crime fiction. You’d be wrong. With this second outing what’s now clear is that Leo Moran mysteries are something entirely different altogether.
One of the most welcome things that McGarry does is to take Leo around the country to solve crimes in Scotland’s lesser known locations. The Ghost Of Helen Addison was set in Argyll, and this time round he finds himself in deepest, and, quite literally, darkest Galloway. It’s an inspired setting which adds an instant atmosphere to proceedings, in no small part due to the rich literary history of the area. Think of the supernatural Border tales of James Hogg, such as The Brownie of Bodsbeck and the epic The Three Perils of Man, and Robert Louis Stevenson’s superb short stories ‘Markheim’ and ‘Thrawn Janet’, as well as his masterpiece of a novel The Master of Ballantrae. All of these have a strong sense of a place where religion and superstition clash, and there is no doubt McGarry taps into this.
But, perhaps surprisingly, it’s another well kent Border writer who I was reminded of when reading The Shadow Of The Black Earl, and that is the Great Waldo himself. It’s not just the place which brings Walter Scott to mind, (he spent most of his time on the other side of the M74, so to speak), or that Briggnarbriggs Hall has more than a hint of Scott’s beloved Abbotsford about it in its grandeur and folly. It’s not even that the title has overtones of Scott’s 1816 novel The Black Dwarf. Comparisons are to be found in McGarry’s writing as well. Going against the grain of most modern fiction, never mind crime, this is a writer who will not be rushed. As with Scott he refuses to hurry matters, enjoying the diversions his characters make along the way. The idea that every sentence has to be a punch, or that action is all, is anathema. Like his protagonist, McGarry would far rather his reader stop and smell the roses.
His descriptions of the surroundings are often extensive, verging on the purple at times, but they completely suit the people and places depicted. In terms of the detective work think of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes’ novels, or even G. K. Chesterton’s tales of Father Brown. There is something distinctly out of time about the Leo Moran mysteries. In fact it is easy to forget you are in a contemporary novel until mentions of mobile phones and Facebook profiles break the spell. It’s another sign that this is a writer doing something different. You might even think he’s deliberately out to subvert the crime genre. Taking a Glasgwegian PI away from the side of the Clyde is just the start.
There is little doubt that McGarry has developed as a writer from The Ghost Of Helen Addison. This time round there are less detailed depictions of what Leo eats and what he wears, which personally I missed as I love food and clothes, but I think it was the right decision in terms of moving the plot along. More importantly, he makes far better use of his female characters in this novel, his relationship with Elaine central to proceedings. I would love to see even more of Stephanie – the one friend who seems to have his number – as I think they would make a memorable double act. Perhaps that’s being kept for Leo Moran’s third mystery. I certainly hope there is one. A character as ineffaceable and distinct as Leo Moran deserves a long literary life, and that goes doubly for Charles E. McGarry.
If you liked the first Leo Moran mystery you are going to love this one. After a particularly upsetting funeral the dapper detective goes to stay with his now firm friend, the extravagantly named Fordyce Greatorix, at his family home of Biggnarbriggs Hall. There he encounters a range of eccentric characters who would not be out-of-place in an Agatha Christie novel. What unfolds is a whodunit which delves into the world of the occult, masonic and pagan rituals, and police corruption, as well as touching on every one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and then coming up with a few more. If you didn’t read the previous novel you may think this is business as usual in terms of Scottish crime fiction. You’d be wrong. With this second outing what’s now clear is that Leo Moran mysteries are something entirely different altogether.
One of the most welcome things that McGarry does is to take Leo around the country to solve crimes in Scotland’s lesser known locations. The Ghost Of Helen Addison was set in Argyll, and this time round he finds himself in deepest, and, quite literally, darkest Galloway. It’s an inspired setting which adds an instant atmosphere to proceedings, in no small part due to the rich literary history of the area. Think of the supernatural Border tales of James Hogg, such as The Brownie of Bodsbeck and the epic The Three Perils of Man, and Robert Louis Stevenson’s superb short stories ‘Markheim’ and ‘Thrawn Janet’, as well as his masterpiece of a novel The Master of Ballantrae. All of these have a strong sense of a place where religion and superstition clash, and there is no doubt McGarry taps into this.
But, perhaps surprisingly, it’s another well kent Border writer who I was reminded of when reading The Shadow Of The Black Earl, and that is the Great Waldo himself. It’s not just the place which brings Walter Scott to mind, (he spent most of his time on the other side of the M74, so to speak), or that Briggnarbriggs Hall has more than a hint of Scott’s beloved Abbotsford about it in its grandeur and folly. It’s not even that the title has overtones of Scott’s 1816 novel The Black Dwarf. Comparisons are to be found in McGarry’s writing as well. Going against the grain of most modern fiction, never mind crime, this is a writer who will not be rushed. As with Scott he refuses to hurry matters, enjoying the diversions his characters make along the way. The idea that every sentence has to be a punch, or that action is all, is anathema. Like his protagonist, McGarry would far rather his reader stop and smell the roses.
His descriptions of the surroundings are often extensive, verging on the purple at times, but they completely suit the people and places depicted. In terms of the detective work think of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes’ novels, or even G. K. Chesterton’s tales of Father Brown. There is something distinctly out of time about the Leo Moran mysteries. In fact it is easy to forget you are in a contemporary novel until mentions of mobile phones and Facebook profiles break the spell. It’s another sign that this is a writer doing something different. You might even think he’s deliberately out to subvert the crime genre. Taking a Glasgwegian PI away from the side of the Clyde is just the start.
There is little doubt that McGarry has developed as a writer from The Ghost Of Helen Addison. This time round there are less detailed depictions of what Leo eats and what he wears, which personally I missed as I love food and clothes, but I think it was the right decision in terms of moving the plot along. More importantly, he makes far better use of his female characters in this novel, his relationship with Elaine central to proceedings. I would love to see even more of Stephanie – the one friend who seems to have his number – as I think they would make a memorable double act. Perhaps that’s being kept for Leo Moran’s third mystery. I certainly hope there is one. A character as ineffaceable and distinct as Leo Moran deserves a long literary life, and that goes doubly for Charles E. McGarry.
This new murder mystery will keep you guessing. The author creates characters that are refreshingly different while effortlessly weaving Scottish history into this book, making for an intriguing narrative. Delightfully vivid. - Scottish Field
Róise Nic an Bheatha, The Bottle Imp
www.thebottleimp.org.uk
Issue 25
Charles E. McGarry’s second crime novel, The Shadow of the Black Earl, adds a supernatural twist to Scotland’s detective scene. Leo Moran, the protagonist, a private detective from Glasgow, visits Biggnarbriggs Hall after the death of a friend. The country hall belongs to Leo’s close friends, the prestigious Fordyce Greatorix and his sister Evelyn, setting the murder mystery deep in rural Scotland and refreshingly outwith the grip of the familiar crime-ridden city. Blessed with the supernatural ability of darna shelladh (a literal Gaelic translation of ‘second sight’), Leo Moran experiences visions of terrible events both past and present. Whilst visiting his friends, he receives a distressing premonition regarding a young woman who subsequently goes missing. To make matters worse, her disappearance mirrors that of another young woman who disappeared thirty years earlier. Are these disappearances connected? Leo Moran intends to find out.
One reads the book tentatively at first, unsure of the period the novel is set. The terms ‘old stick’, and ‘Rolls-Royce’ seem to place the story securely in the 1950s until the ring of a mobile phone thrusts the reader into the twenty-first century. Indeed, throughout his novel, McGarry skillfully interweaves the old and new, evoking a bygone era within the setting of the present day. He places an ancient Highland world within a modern-day detective drama, juxtaposing the supernatural with cold hard crime. This ability to be dark and dated, where the reader forgets their whereabouts only to be pulled into the current technological age, is what makes this novel such a success. Although at times disjointing, McGarry achieves an uncanny sense of the coexistence of both the past and present. Merging folklore, myths, and pagans with today’s concerns, he creates a feeling of insecure temporality. This unsettling feeling that the past haunts us – or perhaps the scarier notion that we are not so distanced from it – pervades McGarry’s novel.
Masonic rites, promiscuous women in the wilderness, and witchcraft feature in this enchanting novel. And Moran is not your typical Tartan Noir detective: he engages with a distant upper class in a way that is uncommon in today’s gritty crime fiction. He is also not afraid to embrace romantic opportunities when they arise. Similarly, his tense relationship with the police compels him to pursue his visions alone, meaning he often seeks allies in people, stories, and myths. As a detective that knows more than he can interpret, he calls into question the relationship between the undiscovered and the unexplainable, the unknown and the yet-to-be-discovered.
What follows is a paranoid folk-horror plot where you are expected to suspect everyone (including the dead). Everyone has the means, motive, and opportunity to be the murderer. Yet, despite this heightened tension, The Shadow of the Black Earl does not seem contrived. McGarry has mastered the fine art of balance, and the fast-paced moments of realisation and revelation are mixed with peaceful walks through the landscape and personal encounters with characters in their natural habitats. Although it can be unnerving, this balance gives the book a stillness not often seen in the world of Scottish crime fiction.
www.thebottleimp.org.uk
Issue 25
Charles E. McGarry’s second crime novel, The Shadow of the Black Earl, adds a supernatural twist to Scotland’s detective scene. Leo Moran, the protagonist, a private detective from Glasgow, visits Biggnarbriggs Hall after the death of a friend. The country hall belongs to Leo’s close friends, the prestigious Fordyce Greatorix and his sister Evelyn, setting the murder mystery deep in rural Scotland and refreshingly outwith the grip of the familiar crime-ridden city. Blessed with the supernatural ability of darna shelladh (a literal Gaelic translation of ‘second sight’), Leo Moran experiences visions of terrible events both past and present. Whilst visiting his friends, he receives a distressing premonition regarding a young woman who subsequently goes missing. To make matters worse, her disappearance mirrors that of another young woman who disappeared thirty years earlier. Are these disappearances connected? Leo Moran intends to find out.
One reads the book tentatively at first, unsure of the period the novel is set. The terms ‘old stick’, and ‘Rolls-Royce’ seem to place the story securely in the 1950s until the ring of a mobile phone thrusts the reader into the twenty-first century. Indeed, throughout his novel, McGarry skillfully interweaves the old and new, evoking a bygone era within the setting of the present day. He places an ancient Highland world within a modern-day detective drama, juxtaposing the supernatural with cold hard crime. This ability to be dark and dated, where the reader forgets their whereabouts only to be pulled into the current technological age, is what makes this novel such a success. Although at times disjointing, McGarry achieves an uncanny sense of the coexistence of both the past and present. Merging folklore, myths, and pagans with today’s concerns, he creates a feeling of insecure temporality. This unsettling feeling that the past haunts us – or perhaps the scarier notion that we are not so distanced from it – pervades McGarry’s novel.
Masonic rites, promiscuous women in the wilderness, and witchcraft feature in this enchanting novel. And Moran is not your typical Tartan Noir detective: he engages with a distant upper class in a way that is uncommon in today’s gritty crime fiction. He is also not afraid to embrace romantic opportunities when they arise. Similarly, his tense relationship with the police compels him to pursue his visions alone, meaning he often seeks allies in people, stories, and myths. As a detective that knows more than he can interpret, he calls into question the relationship between the undiscovered and the unexplainable, the unknown and the yet-to-be-discovered.
What follows is a paranoid folk-horror plot where you are expected to suspect everyone (including the dead). Everyone has the means, motive, and opportunity to be the murderer. Yet, despite this heightened tension, The Shadow of the Black Earl does not seem contrived. McGarry has mastered the fine art of balance, and the fast-paced moments of realisation and revelation are mixed with peaceful walks through the landscape and personal encounters with characters in their natural habitats. Although it can be unnerving, this balance gives the book a stillness not often seen in the world of Scottish crime fiction.