The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin: A review

In this second entry in his Malcolm Fox series, Ian Rankin sends Fox and his Complaints team out of Edinburgh. They must go to the town of Kirkcaldy to investigate the possibility that a group of police officers has conspired to cover up the bad behavior of one of their fellow officers, Detective Paul Carter. Carter has been found guilty of sexual misconduct with women whom he had arrested. His own uncle, who is a former police officer, is the one who brought the charges against him to light. The Complaints team arrives in Kirkcaldy to find no cooperation from their fellow police officers and, in fact, obstruction of their investigation on every hand.

Malcolm Fox intuits very early on in the investigation that all is not quite as it seems. There may be more here than meets the eye, and, since this is an Ian Rankin plot, of course there is.

Fox goes to talk with the uncle. Soon after their conversation the uncle is found dead, at first thought to be a suicide, but things don't add up. What was first put down as a suicide soon is found to be murder. Not only that but the prime suspect in the murder is the nephew, the disgraced Paul Carter.

Then, Paul Carter turns up dead. Curiouser and curiouser.

Meantime, Fox is digging into the background of the uncle's death and finds a link to the days of chaos and violent demonstrations in favor of Scottish independence which took place in the 1980s. This leads him to the death - again, a supposed suicide - of one of the firebrand leaders in the independence movement.

Throughout his investigation, Fox is also dealing with personal trauma as his elderly father's health fails and his only sister's resentment of him (Malcolm) grows.

Rankin has created believable and empathetic characters in this series, and it will be interesting to see how they grow as the series progresses. In this particular book, I especially enjoyed all the "inside baseball" references. Things such as allusions to Midsomer Murders (which I love!), John Le Carre, and a crime scene technician's reference to "woolly suits." When Fox looks askance, she smiles and says there used to be a DI who used that term to refer to the uniformed cops. Yes, we remember that DI well and lament his retirement, but Malcolm Fox is a worthy successor.

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. ...

The Nature of Things

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