The titan of tartan noir talks about misogynistic trolls, Scottish independence and why this government is taking Britain back to Victorian levels of inequality
Val McDermid is standing in St Cuthbert’s graveyard in Edinburgh, surveying the weathered tombs without much enthusiasm. This interview venue – my choice – came from the misguided belief that an author who has spent her life writing about murder might feel at home surrounded by graves. It turns out that the atmosphere of the place is completely lost on her.
“His talents adored the profession of his choice, his life recommended the gospel which he preached in every relation of life,” I read aloud off a 19th-century gravestone. “He died universally regretted.”
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