The Night The Rich Men Burned is Mackay’s first standalone project, although marked by the familiar character list, there are sporadic mentions/re-introductions of familiar figures the former Glasgow trilogy comprising of The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter, How A Gunman Says Goodbye and The Sudden Arrival of Violence. This novel put me in mind of a kind of twisted Bildungsroman, as it is heavily centred on the adverse fortunes of two young men, Oliver Peterkinney and Alex Glass. Both are paving their way in the seedy and violent world of Glasgow’s criminal fraternity- a hotbed of violence, criminal rivalries, and a bunch of inherently dislikeable men jostling for dominance in the lucrative world of debt-collection, drugs and strip clubs. Written in Mackay’s now trademark style, in clipped, pared down prose, all underscored with a compelling emotional distance to the characters and events he presents, The Night The Rich Men Burned will astound and delight you in equal measure…

In common with his previous books this is an incredibly character driven book, as all the inhabitants , and participants in the warring criminal factions, are separated by codes of allegiance to the nefarious crime lords within each faction. As they plot and scheme to assert their power in the lucrative world of criminal activities, there is a sense of a constantly changing power game. The main players in this, Marty Jones, an exceptionally nasty piece of work; established loan shark, Potty Cruikshank and scheming newcomer Billy Patterson, are all men with a casual attitude to violence and keen to exploit those they consider weak and needy. It is into this world, that Glass and Peterkinney take their first tentative steps, and which provides the thrust of the plot overall.What I find particularly interesting about the novel is how both Peterkinney and Glass, starting from the same point, find their lives take such different directions, from ostensibly having little, or no, difference between them in terms of their socio-economic beginnings. Glass senses an opportunity for them to gain financially in the employ of a local debt-collector, bedazzled by the prospect of a life of glamour, girls, drugs and violence, and drags Peterkinney into his seemingly foolproof plan. Initially Peterkinney seems less sure of the long term benefits of this course of action, but as the book progresses there is a marked change of fortune for them both. Despite his initial reluctance to Glass’ pipe-dreams, Peterkinney uses his smarts and grows in stature, moving further away from the narrow existence he formerly inhabits, (unemployed and sharing a small flat with his Grandad), whilst Glass spirals downwards into an abyss of debt and despair. With the subtle shifts in the timeline that Mackay employs, we as readers see this deviation of their respective fortunes and, subsequently, as the inherent weaknesses or underlying coldness of their individual characters are brought to bear on the ways their lives evolve, our sympathies are roundly manipulated with each new episode.

This is the real strength of Mackay’s writing, that he presents all his protagonists with such a studied and dispassionate air, that he requires of us to form our own allegiances to, and sympathies with the characters he presents. No one is particularly likeable, indeed with most of the characters exhibiting a strong prevalence to violence and financial gain at the expense of others, you would little expect to experience any real empathy with any of them. Cleverly, however, you do find your perception of certain characters shifting and changing, and that is a real and unexpected pleasure of this book, over and above the fairly linear style of plotting that the story reveals. With little or no focus on location per se, aside from the general feeling of a gritty inner city setting, with the inherent dangers and social decay that lies beneath, it is all the more admirable that such extreme focus on characterisation carries the weight of the book throughout with little distraction.

Completely unflinching in its depiction of violence and the immoral exploitation of the lower classes by these grasping loan sharks, The Night The Rich Men Burned, never shies away from the stark realities of life within the criminal fraternity. Oddly dispassionate, with a spare and staccato prose style, Mackay once again illustrates his original and refreshingly different take on the crime genre. Not a comfortable read, and one that will cleverly play with your perceptions of, and attitudes to, the characters within its pages which, I for one, find a much more rewarding reading experience. An excellent read.

I won a copy through a Goodreads giveaway.

At first I thought that the character list in the front was handy. Then I realized that seemed to be the only proper introduction to anyone. I spent more time checking who was who than I did actually reading. My to-read pile is too large to waste more time on something that is too confusing.

This standalone book is an effective if somewhat clinical followup to Mackay's excellent Glasgow trilogy. I say "clinical" because it often reads like an anthropologist's field notes from studying the criminal tribe that are the moneylenders and debt collectors of Glasgow. The motivations, calculations, and decisions of seven main characters, and more than thirty supporting characters (some of whom appear in the Glasgow trilogy) are tersely laid out over the course of several months of a power struggle in "the industry."

It all kicks off with two jobless, penniless teenagers, Alex and Peter, trying their hand at debt collection. Working for Marty, a bit of a flashy chancer with his fingers in other pies (like drugs and prostitution), they make every mistake in the amateur's book. In the aftermath, jittery Alex comes away with little to show for it (except a new girlfriend who is a sex worker by night), while his cool, reserved pal Peter is the one who uses the job as a springboard to a new criminal career.

Both get sucked into the vortex that is the jockeying for the city's debt collection business, a fight that's brewing between Marty, the obese old-school gangster Potty, and scrappy newcomer Patterson. Needless to say, plenty of bad things happen. But what's interesting is the dissection of the manners of moneylenders and their associates. I'm not sure I've ever come across a crime writer who uses interior monologue to the extreme Mackay does, and it's an interesting, if distancing, choice.

It's not quite a page-turner, but it is quite good if you enjoy the insidery details of criminal enterprise. The plotting is a bit baroque, and tracking allegiances does require continuous reference to the four pages of dramatis personae at the front of the book.