The best crime novel characters who transcend the printed word

If you were to read only one novel on my list, make it Laidlaw by William McIlvanney, the godfather of so-called Tartan Noir. When written, crime fiction was thought of as a lesser form of fiction, but McIlvanney’s lead, Jack Laidlaw, rises from the pages as a complex, very human character, to rival any writer’s protagonist, and is never a stereotype.

Re-reading the novel, at a time when I began writing my first book, it was the delivery of reality within fiction that informed me first, and then I realised that McIlvanney’s secondary characters were not hollow walk-on cast either; they too delivered a reality which was theirs, but which also supported the novel’s lead—a strong lesson in writing characters who are far more than empty cut-outs.

Second on my list is Stieg Larson’s creation, Lisbeth Salander, who leapt off the page for me in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (the first novel of his Millennium trilogy). Larsson stood by as he witnessed the gang-rape of an acquaintance and, when he wrote his first book (the Swedish title translating into Men Who Hate Women), he used this actual event to conceive Lisbeth. As my list is of characters who can be seen to transcend the printed word, Lisbeth is a superb example, and I would love to write a female lead as strong as her. She is a nemesis but, in Larsson’s skilful hands, she is never a simple one-dimensional creation but a layered one who, when necessary, responds with very human retributive action.

Lehane, one of my favourite authors, introduces the crime writer’s device of the duo, in his first Kenzie and Gennaro novel. For me, as in my own DCI Steel novels, the duo in writing can work to inform, or mislead, the reader and, if handled well, the reader doesn’t notice, seeing the interaction between characters as normal. Clichés abound in crime fiction, especially in lead characters, but Lehane avoids this with P.I. Patrick Kenzie, and his lifelong friend, Angie Gennaro. Given the area they inhabit, with its racial and gang tensions, added to the clients they have, clichés would seem unavoidable, but—once again—the lesson here is to write multi-faceted characters, which Kenzie and Gennaro emphatically are. They are flawed, but in Lehane’s hands, triumphantly human, and very believable.

I had hoped to avoid authors with a prodigious output in this listing, but those author’s characters cannot be missed—Mankell’s Wallander actually carries this novel. The thing that struck me first was how textured the character of Wallander is, and how Mankell fully employs every bit of his backstory. Of course, as before, the cliché of the flawed lead: divorced, few friends, moody, a fondness for drink, and obsessive behaviour, is one which would (too easily) fit Wallander, but not in Mankell’s hands. He takes all these traits and gives the reader an understanding of his lead. On top of that, Mankell uses Wallander for his own observations on Swedish society! For writers Wallander is a study; for readers a joy.

The effect of Scandinavian crime writing has been far-reaching and, to my mind, one aspect that has helped its growth has been the addition of psychological aspects in the characters and—in a very particular sense—the response to this from the reader. I feel I’ve learned more of this deeper level from the writings of Adler-Olsen, particularly his Department Q novels with their lead, Detective Carl Mørck (a deeply flawed man, although written without a cliché in sight). Adler-Olsen has said the reader must have the opportunity to create their own images from his not-very detailed descriptions, which he calls the “missing voice”, and his light, but masterful creation of Carl Mørck succeeds in this, making the Department Q novels a ‘must’ for any reader.