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Knee-deep in the mud of an ancient burial ground, a winter storm raging around him, and at least one person intent on his death: how did Murray Watson end up here?
His quiet life researching the lives of writers in university libraries seems a world apart, and yet it is because of the mysterious poet Archie Lunan, dead for thirty years, that Murray now finds himself scrabbling in the dirt on the remote island of Lismore.
Loaded with Welsh’s trademark wit, insight and gothic charisma, this adventure novel weaves the lives of Murray and Archie together in a tale of literature, obsession and dark magic.
Louise Welsh does creepy like no other.
What sticks in the memory are the moments of flashing wit and brilliant prose that illuminate the darkness and light the way. Naming the Bones is that good.