Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Broken Skin by Stuart MacBride .
This book starts off well...
Up ahead the woman stops. She stands on one leg under the streetlight, rubbing her ankle, as if she's not used to wearing high heels. Number seven: a wee Torry quine on her way home after a night out on the pish, staggering along in her fuck-me heels and miniskirt, even though it's February in Aberdeen and freezing cold. She's a looker. Curly brown hair. Upturned little nose. Nice legs, long and sexy. The kind he likes to feel struggling beneath him as he makes the bitch take it. Shows her who's boss.
She straightens up and teeters off again, mumbling away to herself in a little alcoholic haze. He likes them drunk: not so drunk they don't know what's happening, but drunk enough that they can't do anything about it. Can't get a good look at him.
Dirty bitches.
She lurches past the NorFish building - spotlit for a moment in the sweeping headlights of an articulated lorry - across the roundabout and onto the cobbles of Victoria Bridge, crossing the dark, silent River Dee into Torry. He hangs back a bit, pretending to tie his shoelace until she's nearly all the way over. This part of town isn't his usual hunting ground, so he has to play it carefully. Make sure no one's watching. He smiles: the dark, grey street is deserted - just him and lucky Number Seven.
A quick jog and he's right behind her again. He's fit, doesn't even break a sweat in his Aberdeen Football Club tracksuit, complete with hood and black Nike trainers. Who's going to look twice at a man out for a jog?
Torry's bleak in the late February night - granite buildings stained almost black with grime, washed with piss-yellow streetlight. The woman fits right in: cheap clothes, cheap black leather jacket, cheap shoes, cheap perfume. A dirty girl. He smiles and feels the knife in his pocket. Time for the dirty girl to get her 'treat'.
She turns left, heading off the long, sweeping curve of Victoria Road onto one of the side streets, where the fish processing factories are. Probably taking a shortcut back to her horrible little bedsit, or the house she shares with mummy and daddy - she should have someone to share her pain with when this is all over. Because there's going to be a lot of pain to share.
The street's deserted, just the back end of an empty eighteen-wheeler parked opposite the oriental cash and carry. It's all industrial units here, silent and dark and closed for the night. No one to see them and call for help.
The woman - Number Seven - passes a skip full of twisted metal, and he speeds up, closing the gap. Her heels go click-clack on the cold concrete pavement, but his Nikes are silent. Past a couple of those big plastic bins overflowing with discarded fish heads and bones, grimy wooden pallets slapped on top to keep the seagulls out. Closer.
Out with the knife, one hand rubbing the front of his tracksuit, stroking his erection for luck. Every detail stands out bright and clear, like blood splashed on pale, white skin.
She turns at the last minute, eyes going wide as she sees him, then sees the knife, too shocked to scream. This is going to be special. Number Seven will get to do things she's never dreamed of, not in her darkest nightmares. She-
...but then it is downhill all the way. That is as good as it gets and the quality of Stuart's writing declines. This book is okay but it is not a thriller, more a soap opera like the successful television series of The Bill . This story features the lead character of Detective Sergeant Logan McRae with a supporting cast of other Police officers. There are 5 deaths and all the crimes are solved by the end. This novel is not of the same quality of the other thrillers I have enjoyed, it is a plodding story about PC Plod. It is set in the Scottish city of Aberdeen but Stuart drones on and on about the granite used in the buildings. Granite is the most over-used word in the whole book and the constant references to granite really gets on your nerves by the end of this book.
At the end of the story you get a preview of his next book called Flesh House. The Police cast of Broken Skin continue, just like another episode of The Bill, so no thank you. Looking at his earlier 2 books, Cold Granite and Dying Light, they also feature the same cast of Police officers. There is nothing special to recommend about Broken Skin, Stuart may think he is writing a TV series but I will not be following his books.
This book starts off well...
Up ahead the woman stops. She stands on one leg under the streetlight, rubbing her ankle, as if she's not used to wearing high heels. Number seven: a wee Torry quine on her way home after a night out on the pish, staggering along in her fuck-me heels and miniskirt, even though it's February in Aberdeen and freezing cold. She's a looker. Curly brown hair. Upturned little nose. Nice legs, long and sexy. The kind he likes to feel struggling beneath him as he makes the bitch take it. Shows her who's boss.
She straightens up and teeters off again, mumbling away to herself in a little alcoholic haze. He likes them drunk: not so drunk they don't know what's happening, but drunk enough that they can't do anything about it. Can't get a good look at him.
Dirty bitches.
She lurches past the NorFish building - spotlit for a moment in the sweeping headlights of an articulated lorry - across the roundabout and onto the cobbles of Victoria Bridge, crossing the dark, silent River Dee into Torry. He hangs back a bit, pretending to tie his shoelace until she's nearly all the way over. This part of town isn't his usual hunting ground, so he has to play it carefully. Make sure no one's watching. He smiles: the dark, grey street is deserted - just him and lucky Number Seven.
A quick jog and he's right behind her again. He's fit, doesn't even break a sweat in his Aberdeen Football Club tracksuit, complete with hood and black Nike trainers. Who's going to look twice at a man out for a jog?
Torry's bleak in the late February night - granite buildings stained almost black with grime, washed with piss-yellow streetlight. The woman fits right in: cheap clothes, cheap black leather jacket, cheap shoes, cheap perfume. A dirty girl. He smiles and feels the knife in his pocket. Time for the dirty girl to get her 'treat'.
She turns left, heading off the long, sweeping curve of Victoria Road onto one of the side streets, where the fish processing factories are. Probably taking a shortcut back to her horrible little bedsit, or the house she shares with mummy and daddy - she should have someone to share her pain with when this is all over. Because there's going to be a lot of pain to share.
The street's deserted, just the back end of an empty eighteen-wheeler parked opposite the oriental cash and carry. It's all industrial units here, silent and dark and closed for the night. No one to see them and call for help.
The woman - Number Seven - passes a skip full of twisted metal, and he speeds up, closing the gap. Her heels go click-clack on the cold concrete pavement, but his Nikes are silent. Past a couple of those big plastic bins overflowing with discarded fish heads and bones, grimy wooden pallets slapped on top to keep the seagulls out. Closer.
Out with the knife, one hand rubbing the front of his tracksuit, stroking his erection for luck. Every detail stands out bright and clear, like blood splashed on pale, white skin.
She turns at the last minute, eyes going wide as she sees him, then sees the knife, too shocked to scream. This is going to be special. Number Seven will get to do things she's never dreamed of, not in her darkest nightmares. She-
...but then it is downhill all the way. That is as good as it gets and the quality of Stuart's writing declines. This book is okay but it is not a thriller, more a soap opera like the successful television series of The Bill . This story features the lead character of Detective Sergeant Logan McRae with a supporting cast of other Police officers. There are 5 deaths and all the crimes are solved by the end. This novel is not of the same quality of the other thrillers I have enjoyed, it is a plodding story about PC Plod. It is set in the Scottish city of Aberdeen but Stuart drones on and on about the granite used in the buildings. Granite is the most over-used word in the whole book and the constant references to granite really gets on your nerves by the end of this book.
At the end of the story you get a preview of his next book called Flesh House. The Police cast of Broken Skin continue, just like another episode of The Bill, so no thank you. Looking at his earlier 2 books, Cold Granite and Dying Light, they also feature the same cast of Police officers. There is nothing special to recommend about Broken Skin, Stuart may think he is writing a TV series but I will not be following his books.
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