His Bloody Project

Last week Paul Beatty’s The Sellout won the Man Booker Prize. A satire on America’ racial failings, the book earned praise for its wit, daring and cunning. The public’s favourite, however, was another novel, His Bloody Project, a work that had outsold its rivals five times over in the run up to the ceremony. Its success is remarkable: borne out of independent publishing house, Contraband, the book had only sold 500 copies prior to its nomination. Much like the Mercury Prize in music, the Booker offers small publishing houses an opportunity to break into the big league; so Contraband distributed the work to as many reviewers as possible, hoping that it could gain some attention. Fortunately it did, and since then it’s gone on to be the underground hit of the year.

My relationship with The Booker Prize is mixed to say the least. I’ve loved some (Line of Beauty and Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha), admired others (Life of Pi) and given up on many (A Brief History of Seven Killings, Wolf Hall, The Sea). Often Booker winners can feel very worthy without being particularly enjoyable. This calls to mind the recent documentary on Sue Townsend where her publicist argued that Sue was never garlanded with awards because she was entertaining – humour is seen as trite by award bodies. His Bloody Project is not a comedy, but it has been met with similar disapproval – the reason? It's been branded a ‘crime novel.’ A crime novel in literary circles means a book that other people enjoy but is of no artistic merit. Concerned that people would see the genre and not the tale, the author shot back, defining it as, “a novel that features a crime.” This isn’t a whodunit book – we know it was the seventeen-year-old Ronald Macare – instead it’s a whydidhedoit – or rather – didheknowhewasdoingit. 

In reading this, I felt like another of Henry's victims.

It isn’t just a book about murder; it’s a novel about the nature of truth, the question of justice, the impact of one’s environment – it’s the smartest page-turner you’ll read all year.

Macrae Burnet is a fiendishly clever writer. He imbues in his story the appearance of reality by alleging that the story is true, that he uncovered it whilst researching his grandfather. Typically, the preface of a book is an exercise in earnestness where the writer distils how their book came to be. In Macrae Burnet’s hands, the introduction is where the fiction begins. In purporting to be factual, the author is both respecting and satirising the zeitgeist’s thirst for true crime- he is having his cake and eating it, saying: Here’s a postmodern book for The Booker Prize crowd. Here’s a non-fiction account for the Making A Murderer crowd. From the start then, he is pulling the wool over our eyes, making us see lies as truth – a thematic concern that runs throughout His Bloody Project.

After ‘finding out’ that his ancestor was a triple murderer, Macrae Burnet sets about finding documents that relate to the case. His novel is a crime file where he displays the witness statements, the criminal’s version of events, psychiatrist's report and newspaper cutting of the trial. All of these ‘documents’ (I promise I’ll stop the inverted speech marks soon; I think you’re getting the idea of the fiction masquerading as fact) are presented in such a cunning way that we’re kept guessing until the end – even beyond the end – as to the true motives of the crime.

The writer and his book.

The superb plotting of the book is illustrated firstly in the opening to the ‘report’ (sorry!). We hear statements and testimonials from the neighbour, teacher, priest and victim’s cousin. Already a tricksy portrait of the murderer is drawn. Roderick is described as ‘gentle,’ ‘queer’ and ‘wicked’ from teacher, neighbour and priest respectively. How can one boy elicit such different responses from a tiny Highland community? Another issue that isn’t deliberately addressed in the statements is what exactly Roderick has done and to whom. The first witnesses reveal the victim is neighbour Lachlan Mackenzie, yet it is only when we get to Lachlan’s cousin’s testimony that we’re told about ‘murders.’ Who else has Roderick killed? It’s not until much later on in the book we find out.

 After the witness statements we’re told that Roderick wrote an account of the events whilst in prison. For me, this section of the novel is the writer's crowning glory. Within it, Roderick recounts 19^th century life in the Highland crofting community. Times were hard during this period, close to impossible. With the land a long way from arable, people had to work bloody hard to get any kind of yield. A long way from the city the community was largely self-sufficient. They worked their plot hard but helped others in need. With little money coming in it was a struggle to meet the rents. Hiding behind a big house, the factor that owned the land would enlist a constable, a community official, that would ensure debts were paid, regulations met. When the respected constable grows tired of being caught between the factor’s whims and the tenants' need, the position becomes available. Lachlan, the disreputable neighbour, seizes control and quickly uses bureaucracy to flagellate Roderick's family. Gagged and bound by red tape, Roderick and his family are soon rendered voiceless.

A Highland family being evicted for not paying their rent.

This is why the book is more than a crime novel: it evokes Orwell’s Animal Farm where the manipulator seizes control; Kafka’s The Trial with people caught in officialdom; and finally Dickens’ Great Expectations revealing the laws slippery nature. Given the turmoil of Roderick’s life, it is easy to forget that he has killed and killed again. Again, this is Macrae Burnet’s success as a writer, he gives the telling of the tale over to Roderick, meaning for the first half of the book we hear a one-sided account the events. By the trial scene, you’ll question everything you thought you knew about Roderick Macrae.

Ultimately, this a novel that will appeal to true-crime, crime and literary fans. I raced to finish it in a weekend. Usually with Booker novels I hide behind the sofa until my girlfriend has promised me they've gone away. So the jury may have declared Macrae Burnet ‘Not Guilty’ of writing a Booker winner, but I’m appealing to you to give this book a second chance.

It would be criminal to do otherwise.

His Bloody Project is out now.