A few years later, Peter May adds a fourth volume to his
Scottish Trilogy:
Loch Noir
Should he have reread the first three books, recaptured that dark and heavy atmosphere occasionally pierced by glimmers of light to fully appreciate the nuances of this opus?... Maybe.
Fin is no longer a field detective and now lives in Glasgow with Marsaili. His job no longer excites him, and their relationship is at a crossroads. Time and daily life have gently lulled them to sleep.
A bolt from the blue will shake up their monotonous life and bring them back to Lewis, the island of their childhood and youth.
Fin has 3 days to prove (or not) the innocence of their son, accused of murder...
This island is one Peter May clearly enjoys revisiting, retracing his hero’s steps like a meticulous topographer... but describing an environment by oversaturating the narrative with street names, intersections, roads, forks, or detailed itineraries—as if following a GPS—makes it hard to establish an atmosphere.
The alternation between past episodes and the present-day investigation unfolds the story without displeasure but without real brilliance. The bonds linking the characters, childhood friends now settled with varying degrees of success in their adult lives, are reactivated... and when
Fin recalls a tragic episode from their adolescence, it’s clear it will be a key piece of the puzzle coming together before our eyes.
The book is also a subtle, well-researched plea for ecology. The author describes and denounces the ravages of fish farming—what look will we now cast on the salmon on our plates?—and a striking event momentarily diverts the crime story to show human powerlessness in the face of nature’s implacable laws.
Despite the endearing characters, the setting, and the harshness of the Gaelic language that the author sprinkles throughout the book, the whole feels uneven, and the magnetic charm of the trilogy has, in my eyes, slightly frayed.
Loch Noir by Peter May
Rouergue Noir
Image attachée:
Photo postée par le membre
Kola.
