Barbara Ludman
QUITE UGLY ONE MORNING by Christopher Brookmyre (Little, Brown, R59,75)
THERE’S a certain attraction to a book which clearly sets out to be the most disgusting read of the year. Investigative reporter Jack Parlabane, hiding in Edinburgh from contract killers out to get him at his most recent port of call, Los Angeles, locks himself out of his flat one hungover morning and wanders into an open flat downstairs, where he spots a mutilated corpse as he wades through a sea of blood, piss, vomit and other noxious substances. The reader knows all about it, as Parlabane is the third person to stumble on the scene.
Quite Ugly One Morning carries on in this vein, like jokes in a boys’ own locker room, but it’s got more going for it than that. The key to the killing – what the book jacket calls the “post-Thatcherite nightmare” – is interesting; the characters aren’t half bad; and the author’s heart is in the right place, even if his stomach is rather stronger than mine. Taken in small doses, with a grain or two of salt, the book is an entertaining read.