The best books to portray a sense of place

Like myself, Rankin didn’t start writing fiction until he left his native country. His books could only be set in a city like Edinburgh, with its blend of Puritan zeal, parsimony, and violence. His depiction of his hometown is so enthralling that it started a tourist boom, much like Oxford experienced with Colin Dexter.

I adore how he brings back Rebus after retirement as a detective and straight into conflict with former colleagues and criminals. Rankin realizes that a good detective must be closer to the dark side to be effective. I admire Rebus’s imperfections, even how he copes with his health problems. He’s no white hat, but he gets the job done—his way.

With my background, I had to include a book set in N. Ireland during the Troubles. McKinty’s books are a clever blend of fiction and nonfiction. His description and understanding of the absurdities of the Troubles mirror my own beliefs.

His RUC detective is a Catholic in a largely Protestant police force, and McKinty weaves an easily understandable tableau of what it took to live through the Troubles. It is something very difficult to explain to outsiders, though I believe the entire populace still suffers from PTSD.

It was not an easy read as it brought back many painful memories, such as being caught up in the horror of Bloody Friday.

One of the best explanations I’ve read of the rise of Fascism in Hitler’s Germany. I agree that ignoring the lessons of history means we’ll be forced to endure repetition. And Kerr paints such a chilling scenario no one in their right mind would wish the maxim to come true. His prose applies color and form like an artist at the top of their game.

At times I found him reminiscent of Chandler in the way he portrays the Nazis as the worst gangsters in the game. This is the first book of the Bernard Gunther series, and I was so enthralled that I raced through the others in just a few days. His storyline is filled with horror, passion, fear, and pathos—a tour de force of emotions.

This book is written basically as a western road movie. The two main protagonists, former Texas Rangers, decide, on little more than a whim, to assemble a cattle herd and drive it north from the Rio Grande to Montana, with the author providing some wonderful descriptions of the topography and hardships they encounter. 

What makes it a classic for me is how the central characters explore their own mettle from the dichotomy of Woodrow, who is moralistic but happily rustles Mexican cattle and won’t acknowledge his son because the young man’s mother was a prostitute.

Gus has a more enlightened outlook towards another prostitute, and his humor allows the young girl to embark on a passage to discover her place in the West. The story is as stunning as the landscapes.

In contrast to Lonesome Dove, I’ve included this book by Craig Johnston, partly because of my anthropology training. Johnston relates the modern life of a Wyoming sheriff interacting with the culture of the Sioux and Cheyenne.

I particularly admire the way Johnston handles the spiritual aspect of the native people. His depiction of Wyoming's emptiness or mountainous areas kept me turning pages all night long. His protagonist knows only too well that law and order is not a black-and-white matter and is prepared to dispense justice as he seems fit.

I have watched the TV series of the books but found it underwhelming. The printed word can often outdo the constraints of a TV producer.