Skip to main content

The Naming of the Dead by Ian Rankin: A review

The "naming of the dead" is a ritual often performed after some tragedy in which people have been killed. The names of the dead are read out in public ceremony as a way of remembering their lives. Inspector John Rebus, Ian Rankin's creation, feels that that is what he does in his murder investigations - he names the dead, excavates their lives, and makes sure they are not forgotten.

The Naming of the Dead is the penultimate tale in Inspector Rebus' saga. Soon he will be forced to retire and give up the job which is the only life he has. It won't be a minute too soon for his superiors at Lothian and Borders Police.

In July 2005, Edinburgh was a buzz of activity as it readied itself for the G8 conference to be held there. The most powerful people in the world would be meeting to decide the fate of much of the world for the foreseeable future. Police officers from all over the country had been commandeered to provide security for the event. They came from as far away as London to make sure that nothing went wrong.

It seemed that the only nonessential policeman, the only one whose presence was not required to keep the peace around the bigwigs, was John Rebus. Once again his superiors appeared to be sending him a message: You're not needed. You're not wanted. Pack it in.

Of course, Rebus has a tin ear when it comes to such messages. He just doesn't hear them and he goes on his way, doing his job just the way he has always done it. His way.

Much as his superiors do not want him involved, when one of the delegates to the G8 falls to his death, Rebus is the only officer left at the station to take the call and thus he becomes involved in investigating a high profile death, the very thing his boss hoped to avoid.

Meanwhile, his colleague Siobhan Clarke is investigating the death of a rapist which means that soon Rebus is involved in that investigation as well. Then Clarke's parents, aging hippies, come to Edinburgh to participate in demonstrations in regard to the G8 and, in the melee, her mother is assaulted, possibly by a policeman. Siobhan is determined to find the culprit and bring him to justice.

All of these disparate stories intertwine and interconnect as they have a way of doing in a Rankin tale, and the conclusions to the stories were not quite what I had expected. Although I've read all the Rebus stories, in order, through this one, Rankin still has the capacity to surprise me.

What will happen to Rebus when he is finally forced to leave his job, the job for which he has sacrificed all of his personal life? Who will "name" him when he loses the only life he has? It will be interesting to see how Rankin handles this. Perhaps he will surprise me once again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...