Lin Anderson knows how to mix things up. The Dead and the Dying takes us back to Orkney, which we visited – along with Rhona MacLeod et al – in The Killing Tide. But I feel that this is a far lighter book, which makes sense. The Killing Tide really went for it, with high-level corruption and betrayal and no little violence. Orkney deserved to be the backdrop for something different. The Dead and the Dying gives us an exploration of inclusion and belonging with some historical twists, and I come away quite refreshed, which is not what you expect from a novel involving a serial killer.

Turns out whales do inclusion and belonging better than some humans: a pod of pilot whales are beached while trying to protect a birthing mother and her calf. The rescue team (of humans, obviously) unearth a Viking grave, but the body has been there only 20 years. A good portion of the book is spent with Detective Inspector Erling Flett wondering if the murder victim was someone he – and many others – bullied when at school. Problem is, the drink- and drug-fuelled parties Erling and his friends used to enjoy as teenagers on the beaches of Mainland, may have had hideous consequences.

I am not sure I wholly buy this line of thought, but I am glad it is there, because it means that Flett decides that he can’t be the lead officer and so our good friend McNab is seconded from Glasgow. McNab doesn’t want to be back in Mainland – he doesn’t even visit the green spaces of Glasgow, plus he didn’t integrate well with the locals last time around – but it means that the full membership of Rhona MacLeod’s usual polis gang, whether in the islands or the big city, get to roam the pages of this novel.

It would be wrong to suggest that there’s no action in this novel: there’s plenty. But much of it – like the attack on a police constable and the stealing of a skull – happens off-page. Unlike in other MacLeod novels, we aren’t on edge because of what might happen to individuals we care about. We are more invested in what they find out about themselves. There are genuine moments of tension and action – who has broken into McNab’s room and why? What is going on with Erling’s partner? Latterly, will the attacked man survive? But much of the adventure, such that it is, involves peeling back the layers of the past. When did Erling become who he was? How about Magnus? What culpability does Ben’s homophobic step-father hold – and does that differ from the blame that should be attributed to the young people of Kirkwall 20 years ago? 

MacLeod, McNab and the gang are brilliant forensic scientists and detectives. There’s no doubt that they’ll work it all out. The pleasure comes from watching them use their skills in uncertain environments – up against the weather, or in winning around a new team who resent your presence and may reject your leadership.

As a result I end the book feeling as though I’ve gone on a bit of an adventure with some friends. The Dead and the Dying is definitely at the cosy end of the MacLeod series and an enjoyable addition to the series.

In passing – it will be interesting to see how Orkney fares later this year in the new Jimmy Perez novel, which sees the ex-Shetland detective having moved archipelago. Glasgow and Edinburgh are host to multiple fictional detectives and it will be interesting to see whether Orkney’s big enough for that. 

Thanks to Macmillan for the review copy and to Anne Cater for the blog tour invitation.