If you pick up a copy of Black and Blue, you aren't just grabbing another police procedural. You’re holding the moment the "Tartan Noir" genre basically exploded into the mainstream. Before this book hit the shelves in 1997, John Rebus was a solid character, but Ian Rankin was still a writer trying to find his ultimate gear. This book changed everything. It’s gritty. It’s long. It’s incredibly messy in the way real life—and real crime—usually is.
Honestly, the sheer ambition of this novel is what makes it stick in your head decades later. Rankin didn't just want to tell a story about a murder. He wanted to weave together the crumbling oil industry in Aberdeen, the ghost of a real-life serial killer, and the internal rot of a police force that had lost its way. It's a lot to handle. You’ve got Rebus juggling four different cases while drinking way too much Jura whisky and listening to The Rolling Stones. It shouldn't work, but it does.
The Bible of Tartan Noir
People talk about "Tartan Noir" like it’s just Scottish people being grumpy in the rain. It’s more than that. Black and Blue defined the aesthetic: a deep-seated cynicism toward institutions, a focus on the "divided self," and a setting that feels like a character in its own right. Edinburgh isn't a postcard here. It’s a place of shadows and damp alleys.
Rankin was heavily influenced by the likes of William McIlvanney, particularly the Laidlaw trilogy. You can see that DNA everywhere. But while McIlvanney brought the philosophy, Rankin brought the clockwork plotting. In this book, the plot isn't a straight line. It’s more like a tangled ball of yarn that Rebus is desperately trying to straighten out while his own life falls apart.
The Bible John Connection
One of the most chilling aspects of Black and Blue is how it uses real history. Rankin brings in the shadow of Bible John. For those who aren't true crime buffs, Bible John was a real-world serial killer who terrorized Glasgow in the late 1960s. He was never caught.
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In the novel, Rankin introduces "Johnny Bible," a copycat killer who is mimicking those decades-old crimes. This isn't just a plot device. It’s a way for Rankin to explore how the past never really stays buried in Scotland. The tension between the old crimes and the new ones creates this suffocating atmosphere of dread. It makes you realize that for a guy like Rebus, the job isn't about "winning." It's about surviving the weight of all that history.
Why Rebus is the Perfect Protagonist for the 90s
Rebus is a mess. Let's be real. He’s a "dinosaur" even by 1997 standards. He doesn't fit into the new, corporate world of policing where everything is about statistics and public relations. He’s a man who thrives in the grey areas.
In Black and Blue, Rebus is under internal investigation (the "blue" part of the title, referring to the police force). He’s being watched by "The Thin Blue Line," and he’s suspected of being involved in some shady business from his past at Summerhall. This creates a double-layered conflict. He’s hunting a killer, but he’s also being hunted by his own colleagues.
It’s a classic trope, sure. But Rankin does it better because Rebus isn't a hero. He’s a guy who makes mistakes. He’s lonely. He’s obsessed. When you read about him sitting in the Oxford Bar, you don't feel like you're reading about a fictional detective; you feel like you're watching a real person slowly grind themselves down.
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The Oil Rig Setting
One of the most striking sequences in the book takes Rebus up to the North Sea oil rigs. This was a stroke of genius. The rigs are these isolated, hyper-masculine, dangerous environments. They represent the "black" in the title—the North Sea oil that fueled Scotland's economy but also brought a lot of corruption and environmental baggage.
The shift from the claustrophobic streets of Edinburgh to the literal isolation of an oil rig changes the pace of the book. It highlights the scale of the corruption Rebus is uncovering. It’s not just street-level crime. It’s corporate. It’s international. It’s bigger than one man can ever truly stop.
The Technical Brilliance of the Plot
If you're a writer, you study this book for the structure. Rankin manages to balance four distinct narrative threads:
- The Johnny Bible murders.
- The reinvestigation of an old case involving a man named Lenny Murphy.
- The surveillance of a Glasgow gangster named "Big Ger" Cafferty.
- The internal affairs investigation into Rebus himself.
Most writers would trip over their own feet trying to manage that. Rankin uses them to build a sense of total immersion. Everything is connected, even when it isn't. The "black and blue" theme permeates every page—bruises on the victims, the ink on the police reports, the oil in the sea, and the darkness of the Scottish winter.
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Looking Back After Nearly 30 Years
Reading Black and Blue today feels a bit like looking at a time capsule. There are no smartphones. Forensics are still in a relatively primitive state compared to what we see on CSI now. But the human elements haven't aged a day. The political tension between Edinburgh and London, the struggles of the working class, and the feeling that the system is rigged—that's all still there.
The book won the Gold Dagger from the Crime Writers' Association for a reason. It moved the goalposts for what a "mystery novel" could be. It proved that you could have a gripping page-turner that also functioned as a serious social commentary.
A Quick Reality Check
Sometimes people get confused and think Bible John was actually caught because of this book. He wasn't. In the mid-90s, there was actually a real-life exhumation related to the Bible John case (the Peter Tobin connection wouldn't be explored until much later), and Rankin used that real-world energy to fuel his fiction. But remember: this is a novel. The resolutions in the book are Rankin's, not the Scottish legal system's.
How to Approach the Book Today
If you're new to Ian Rankin, you could start with the first Rebus book, Knots and Crosses. But honestly? You don't have to. You can jump straight into Black and Blue. You’ll feel a little lost at first, just like Rebus does, but that’s part of the experience.
You should pay attention to the music. Rankin is a huge music nerd. The soundtrack to this book—The Stones, Jackie Leven—isn't just background noise. It sets the mood. It tells you what’s going on in Rebus's head when he can't find the words to say it.
Actionable Steps for Readers and Aspiring Writers
- Read for the "Gaps": When reading, notice how Rankin doesn't explain everything. He lets the reader do some work. Notice how he uses dialogue to reveal character without using "he said" every five seconds.
- Research the Real History: Spend twenty minutes looking up the Bible John case. Seeing where the fiction meets the facts makes the reading experience 10x more intense.
- Visit the Locations: If you ever find yourself in Edinburgh, go to the Oxford Bar on Young Street. It’s exactly as Rankin describes it. Small, no-nonsense, and full of character.
- Study the Pacing: Notice how the chapters get shorter as the book nears its end. It’s a classic trick to speed up the reader’s heart rate.
- Look for the Social Commentary: Don't just follow the "who dunnit." Look at what Rankin is saying about the Scottish economy and the police force. That’s where the real "meat" of the book is.
Black and Blue remains a towering achievement in crime fiction. It’s the book that took a local detective and made him a global icon. It’s dark, it’s painful, and it’s absolutely essential for anyone who wants to understand why we are still obsessed with the darker side of the human psyche.