The secrets are buried; The good writing is evident

Mark Billingham’s latest crime novel is a great piece of Brit-grit

DYLAN FERGUSON

But that’s neither here nor there. What you should know is that Buried is an excellent, complex and engaging entry in the Brit-grit subgenre of crime writing.

The story follows DI Thorne as he investigates the kidnapping of Luke Mullen, the son of a now-retired high-ranking cop. As Thorne races against time to unravel the identity of the kidnapper, who has mysteriously asked for no ransom, he comes across a convicted pedophile and suspected murderer whom the senior Mullen has suspiciously failed to mention on his grudge list. When two suspected kidnappers are found murdered, the investigation becomes more twisted, as Thorne begins to wonder what Mr. Mullen is hiding. Meanwhile, Thorne’s partner, Tom Holland, investigates a racial slaying at a private school that may or may not be connected to the Mullen case.

Mark Billingham’s crime fiction isn’t exactly out to reinvent the wheel — just maybe refine it to run more smoothly. Th is is genre fiction after all, but Billingham gives the format a shot of sordid realism that never fails to hit the mark. He is determined to bring to light the true nature of detective work — the mistakes, the squabbles, the embarrassment and discomfort of listening to endless sobbing, babbling victims — and it all succeeds in feeling refreshingly human.

Tom Thorne is as much a fuckup as he is an implacable copper. He’s continually mourning the loss of his father and his lousy back, he makes errors in judgment, and when he’s transferred to the kidnap unit he can’t stop arguing with the head brass. When our hero begins working with a female offi cer, their eventual relationship is predictable, but handled with gorgeous understatement by the author.

British crime writing has a reputation for being more intelligent, though less thrilling, than its American counterpart, and Billingham only reinforces that belief. The banter between his coppers is about as realistic as it comes, and his portrait of London is in-depth, complicated, and endlessly fascinating. Though I must forewarn, Canuck readers might find themselves confused by all the Britishisms (all the accents ascribed to the various characters — Northampton, Midlands, South London — might have readers on this side of the pond bloody well frustrated).

Brit-grit fiction really found its voice during the late ’80s, when the Th atcher regime left many Britons frustrated with the state of the Queen’s Land at street-level. Now, the waning Tony Blair era may be beckoning a new golden age for the subgenre. Authors like Mo Hayder and PJ Tracy have become very popular in the medium, though Billingham, a former actor and stand-up comic, is definitely a rising star. Since Sleepyhead, the fi rst Tom Thorne novel, came out in 2001, the books in this series have been greeted with increasing critical and popular acclaim, culminating in 2005’s Lifeless, which became a bestseller in America as well as Britain. Buried, with its gripping narrative and fascinating web of hidden secrets slowly rising to light, should only continue that trend.

Fans of American crime fiction who have become disillusioned with the genre should definitely check out what Buried has to offer. Though it may lack the existential depths that lurk beneath hard-boiled American classics — a last minute attempt by the author to link all the events thematically feels a little half-assed — and it will not knock your socks off with thrills, this is a great example of the engaging realism to be found in Brit-grit fiction.

Even if you’re unfamiliar with modern detective fiction, Buried is a good place to start. After you read it, you may just find yourself scrambling to ingest the previous Tom Thorne stories. I know I will be. At least until the next Buford McCullough adventure . . . .