Dog Fight

Michael J Malone

Contraband, £8.99

Alastair Mabbott

TO READ Malone’s new gangland thriller Dog Fight is to be reminded of gargantuan canvases by Peter Howson: of big Glaswegian men, emotionally damaged and vulnerable, deprived of their traditional role, but physically pumped up and desperate to prove themselves… through hard work or, if necessary, with their fists.

The premise is that there’s an underground fight club circuit in Glasgow, inspired by videos of “bum-fights” in the States, in which homeless men were given money to fight each other for the viewers’ amusement. What’s happening here is that homeless ex-soldiers are being plucked from the streets of Glasgow by gangsters and paid to fight bare-knuckled and to the death.

It’s a story in which the focus is squarely on male bonding and ties of loyalty to family and comrades-in-arms. The female characters – basically a prostitute, a young girl and an auntie – don’t get much of a look-in, with even recurring Malone character DC Alessandra Rossi being pushed to the margins. Former cop Ray McBain, who has sustained several novels, is also pushed somewhat into the background, bringing dodgy businessman Kenny O’Neill into the leading role. O’Neill will be familiar to Malone’s readers for his long acquaintance with Ray McBain and his penchant for working both sides of the law. Here, he’s motivated to defend his cousin, Ian, who has come back from the army with psychological problems. Ian attempts to intervene when he finds out that his traumatised friend Dom is being threatened by criminals, and gets sucked into the fight club arena. Kenny, who has money and resources at his disposal, sets out to get his cousin back.

Dog Fight is a great piece of hard-boiled crime fiction, told in short, terse sentences and cranking up the tension as it sweeps through the Glasgow streets from soulless hotel bars to refugee shelters, occasionally exploding in bloody gladiatorial contests staged in underground car parks filled with baying punters. Obviously, it’s very graphic, with one scene involving a staple gun and a heavy-duty nail being particularly hard to wipe from the memory. But the characters’ internal landscapes are ultimately more troubling than the visceral violence. Almost without exception, the novel is peopled by men who, by taking one path or another, have become desensitised to violence, come to expect it or even to welcome it. Once they’re introduced to the amoral, unforgiving fight-club, most of them fit into it far more easily than they might have expected. The book paints a haunting picture of people brutalised by parental neglect, betrayal, being raised in a criminal environment or having seen too much inhumanity in the police or armed forces.

There are some unsavoury but compelling characters, some damaged and sympathetic ones and Myleene, the 11-year-old girl who extracts payment for looking after people’s cars and makes a big impression for a small character. Most importantly, Malone commendably gives prominence to the plight of many former servicemen who have slipped through the net and are dealing with PTSD and drink and drug problems without the assistance they need.