TARTAN NOIR

Tartan Noir is a term coined by US crime writer, James Elroy, who used the term 'The King of Tartan Noir' to describe Ian Rankin.

Wikipedia says: Tartan Noir draws on the traditions of Scottish literature, being strongly influenced by James Hogg's Confessions of a Justified Sinner and Robert Louis Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. These works dwell on the duality of the soul; the nature of good and evil; issues of redemption, salvation and damnation amongst others. The Scottish concept of the "Caledonian antisyzygy", the duality of a single entity, is a key driving force in Scottish literature, and it appears especially prominently in the Tartan Noir genre.

Jimmy Bain's darkly humorous novels fit this category because the Narrator of the books (the man with no name) has a strong moral streak despite his tendency to flippancy in the face of evil. And though he pokes fun at all forms of religion, it is the funpoking of a man who essentially wants to believe in something beyond the physical.



THE BUMBLE'S END will soon be joined by THE LONG DROP GOODBYE as an ebook.

NEW CHRISTMAS COVER: THE BUMBLE'S END!

Read an Excerpt from THE BUMBLE'S END

A tale of greed, death and toffees in the run up to Christmas!

Went up the charts!

Briefly!

For a few precious hours I was in the Amazon.co.uk Humour Charts.

Ah, but it didn't last long!

The Long Drop Goodbye

The Long Drop Goodbye is the next book in the Bumble Books series and it is being tarted up for publication now.

If the Bumble gets his finger out, it could be ready by the autumn - that's the Fall to you Americans. Funnily enough, The Long Drop Goodbye features a fall  - of a fat bloke onto the head of a Yank. Neither came out well from the encounter but you'll have to wait for the expert.. exert... excerpt that's coming soon to find out more.


PS: Apologies to Raymond Chandler for mutilating his title.

I've gone up in the world!

Well, on amazon anyway.






The Bumble's End by Jimmy Bain

New cover based on one below

New Cover

Would this make a better cover?

Or the one with the eagle?

Or is the original one best?

(See lower down.)

Excerpt from THE BUMBLE'S END

I stepped in cautiously. The flat was dingy and unlit, so I felt around for the light switch and flicked it on. The bright glow revealed a dismal choice of décor. The hall wallpaper was pink and red striped; the carpet mottled green with a swirl of autumnal browns. A solitary picture of a white-robed Jesus,
giving the peace sign, stared back from a calendar on the left hand wall.

A warm sweet sickly odour pervaded the place and made you immediately want to take a shower. Something was dead, of that there was no doubt.

Previous Cover

I followed my nose to the second door on the right and half turned before going in. There wasn’t anyone watching me except Jesus. I pushed the door. It wouldn’t move and I had to put my full weight behind it to create a gap big enough to squeeze through.

Even though it was early afternoon the room was dark. I could just make out the outline of a body propped up against the back of the door, its legs splayed out on the carpet. I tried the light switch a couple of times but the bulb had blown, so I made my way to the window and threw the curtains back. Several pigeons took off from the window ledge. I turned back and looked at the body.

It was Tony McCaffrey, the Bumble’s nephew. I recognised him from the photo I’d been given.

Around his neck was a rope which hung from the brass coat hook. His backside was suspended a couple of inches off the floor and his tongue bulged from his mouth as though someone had stuffed it there, like an apple in the fatted pig. His rigid arms were outstretched as if he was welcoming me, and his long dark hair had fallen over his face. His only item of clothing was the gold crucifix around his neck with the Man nailed to it. Once again I was looking at Christ and he was looking back at me.

I prised open the window to let some fresh air into the room, then sat on the edge of the unmade double bed and lit a cigarette. I surveyed the scene while the pigeons settled back down on the ledge. One of them had a stump for a leg and I wondered what had happened. In America some country singer would write a song about it. On a wing and a prayer with Pigeon Pete, only one leg so hence no feet – or words to that effect.

I snapped the Zippo shut, took another draw on my cig and looked Tony over. I felt his face. He was cold as the proverbial marble. I reckoned he had been dead a day or so. It was then I noticed the deep bruising on his wrists and ankles. He had been bound at some stage prior to death. I couldn’t help but look again at the crucifix. The pigeons began to coo as they became amorous on the windowsill.

Well, I had finished my job. But I was still none the wiser as to why the Bumble wanted his nephew found. My instructions were clear – persuade him to return to Glasgow. That would no longer be a problem, he’d be going as a VIP in a long black limousine.

I stepped over the body and looked out of the back window. There was nothing to recommend the garden. It was a bleak wilderness with a solitary shopping trolley lying on its side. Stumpy the pigeon was oblivious to me, as his love interest circled about on the ledge. He makes a remarkable job of staying upright, I thought, for a one-legged randy pigeon. I took a few more draws and flicked my cig out the window and turned to see I wasn’t alone.

The Bumble's End by Jimmy Bain. UK
The Bumble's End by Jimmy Bain. USA

Do you wish to apply for Legal Aid, Mr Hess?

 ‘Do you wish to apply for Legal Aid, Mr Hess?’
 I laughed again and he looked even more bewildered.
 ‘Sorry Mr Schoenberg, maybe I should explain. Reuben
McKenzie gave me your name. The charges for handling
stolen goods were levelled against a slick bunch of criminals
called Nazis.’
 Toad of Toad Hall’s eyes widened. ‘Nazis?’ he said.
 ‘Yes, one in particular. Rudolf Hess... I presume you’ve
heard the story of him flying here and bailing out south of the city?’
 He nodded. ‘But I don’t know what this has to do with me.’
 I held the flame of my lighter under my cigarette, inhaled and
looked directly at him, allowing tumbleweed to blow through
for a second or so. ‘I came here because Reuben McKenzie told
me you were in a concentration camp or something as a kid and
have contacts.’ I snapped the lid of my lighter shut.
 There was a silence. He studied me with calculation then
pruned the end of his cigar with a trimmer. ‘I see you’ve done your homework,’ he said. ‘Carry on.’
 ‘See, it’s like this. I believe Rudolf Hess brought gold with
him, and was aided by people we would now call sleepers. One in
particular was a well known car dealer in Glasgow, Peter Van Luben.’

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No 48 in the Amazon Humour Chart!

The Bumble's End Now out as an E-book!

THE BUMBLE'S END

by Jimmy Bain

is now available as an ebook for Kindle at

amazon.co.uk

amazon.com