Ian Rankin Quotes & Sayings

Nothing in the world tasted as good for breakfast as stolen rolls with some butter and jam and a mug of milky coffee. Nothing tasted better than a venial sin. — Ian Rankin

We're ready for the off, then. — Ian Rankin

The online world could stuff that in its pipe and vape it. — Ian Rankin

There are worse forms of prostitution than whoring.
-Inspector John Rebus — Ian Rankin

The man nodded and brought a bottle from the glass-fronted fridge, — Ian Rankin

There were always dog walkers out & about. Sometimes they even stopped for a chat while the various mutts inspected each other. Rebus would be asked how old his dog was.
No idea.
The breed, then ?
Mongrel.
And all the while, he would be thinking about cigarettes. — Ian Rankin

It seemed to him a very Edinburgh thing. Welcoming, but not very. — Ian Rankin

Rebus lifted a Guardian — Ian Rankin

partner ACC Colin Carswell based at police HQ Sir David Strathern chief constable of Lothian and Borders Police Jean Burchill Rebus's current partner, museum curator — Ian Rankin

parked and placed the POLICE sign on the dashboard. — Ian Rankin

The Scottish vernacular is rich in colourful euphemisms for inebriation: 'stocious', 'stotting', 'guttered', 'steaming', 'steamboats', 'wellied' and 'hoolit' are just a few. Another is 'mortal', as in 'I was fair mortal last night' (meaning 'I was very drunk indeed'). So 'Mortal Causes' evoked, in my mind, the demon drink, just as surely as it did any darker and more violent imagery. — Ian Rankin

At Tulliallan Police College DI John Rebus based at St. Leonard's police station in Edinburgh DI James "Jazz" McCullough based in Dundee DI Francis Gray based in Glasgow DS Stu Sutherland based in Livingston DI Thomas "Tam" Barclay based in Falkirk DC Allan Ward based in Dumfries DCI Archibald Tennant the Resurrection Men's boss Andrea Thomson career analyst The Rico Lomax Murder Case Eric "Rico" Lomax murder victim Fenella Rico's widow "Chib" Kelly Fenella's current lover, Glasgow bar owner and criminal Richard "Dickie" Diamond Rico's friend Malky Dickie's nephew, barman in Edinburgh Jenny Bell Dickie's onetime girlfriend Bernie Johns deceased Glasgow drug baron — Ian Rankin

It was a quiet street - people kept themselves to themselves. It — Ian Rankin

Rebus was eating breakfast in the canteen and wishing there was more caffeine in the coffee, or more coffee in the coffee come to that. — Ian Rankin

The most difficult part of any crime novel is the plotting. It all begins simply enough, but soon you're dealing with a multitude of linked characters, strands, themes and red herrings - and you need to try to control these unruly elements and weave them into a pattern. — Ian Rankin

This man had something to hide, some shame in his past, and those with a past can always be bought. — Ian Rankin

I am reading Ian Rankins book Doors Open and am enjoying his dark Edinburgh narrative will rate soon once I have read it. I am also a fan of Jane Austen and have visited her Museum House in Chawton, Hampshire every year for the last three years. My Favourite book is Sense and Sensibility. — Ian Rankin

Was still a fine, persistent drizzle. There was a word in Scots for it - smirr. — Ian Rankin

I wrote my first short story for a competition and won second prize. Another competition came up and I won first prize. The first story was published in a newspaper. The second went out on radio. — Ian Rankin

They parked in a pay-bay on George Square and walked through the gardens, emerging in front of the university library. Most of the buildings here had gone up in the 1960s, and Rebus hated them: blocks of sand-colored concrete replacing the square's original eighteenth-century town houses. Rows of treacherous steps, and a notorious wind-tunnel effect which could blow over the unwary on the wrong day. Students walked between the buildings, hugging books and folders in front of them. Some stood and chatted in groups.
"Bloody students," was Wylie's concise summing-up of the situation. — Ian Rankin

That guy should be in porn films." Barclay frowned. "Why's that then, Allan?" Ward looked at him. "Tell me, Tam, when did you last see a bigger prick? — Ian Rankin

I'm often asked how I write books, but I don't think my approach is suitable for everyone. If I walked into a creative writing class, all I could say to them was 'I tend to make it up as I go along.' I'm not sure that's brilliant advice. — Ian Rankin

Strip the veneer, and the world had moved only a couple of steps from the cave. — Ian Rankin

Fifteen years, and all he had to show were an amount of self-pity and a busted marriage with an innocent daughter hanging between them. It was more disgusting than sad. — Ian Rankin

muted 'thanks' as the person moved away. 'It — Ian Rankin

1446, that's when the foundations were laid. It took forty years to complete."
"Sounds like some builders I know," Rebus said.
"Can't you feel it?" Sithing was staring at Rebus. "Right at the core of your cynical heart, can't you feel something?"
"It's just indigestion, thanks for asking." Rebus rubbed his chest. — Ian Rankin

A good album should be more than the sum of its parts. — Ian Rankin

The man called Gareth was laughing into his mobile phone as the door opened. There were gold rings on each of his fingers, chains dangling from his neck and wrists. He wasn't tall but he was wide. Rebus got the impression much of it was fat. A gut hung over his waistband. He was balding badly, and had allowed what hair he had to grow uncut, so that it hung down to the back of his collar and beyond. He wore a black leather trenchcoat and black T-shirt, with baggy denims and scuffed trainers. He already had his free hand out for the cash, wasn't expecting another hand to grab it and haul him inside the flat. He dropped the phone, swearing and finally taking note of Rebus. — Ian Rankin

Trapped in limbo, believing in a lack of belief, but not necessarily lacking the belief to believe. — Ian Rankin

superintendents, chief inspectors, inspectors, sergeants and constables. If an officer works for CID (Criminal Investigation Department), then he or she will carry the prefix D (for Detective). A DCI is a detective chief inspector, DI is a detective inspector, DS a detective sergeant, and DC a detective constable. Officers not assigned to CID would wear a uniform. (Rebus sometimes refers to these unfortunates as "woolly suits.") Lowest in the pecking order are the PC (police constable) and WPC (woman police constable). — Ian Rankin

You wouldn't think you could kill an ocean, would you? But we'll do it one day. That's how negligent we are. — Ian Rankin

Also, he was more discriminating now than he had been then, back in the old days when he would read a book to its bitter end whether he liked it or not. These days, a book he disliked was unlikely to last ten pages of his concentration. — Ian Rankin

It's easier if you do a handstand,' commented Rebus. 'What is?' 'Talking out of your arse. — Ian Rankin

He felt his arms ache and, looking down, saw that the girl had stopped struggling. There came that point, that sudden, blissful point, when it was useless to go on living, and when the mind and body came to accept that such was the case. That was a beautiful, peaceful moment, the most relaxed moment of one's life. — Ian Rankin

Witches never existed, except in people's minds. All there was in the olden days was women and some men who believed in herbal cures and in folklore and in the wish to fly. Witches? We're all witches in one way or another. Witches was the invention of mankind, son. We're all witches beneath the skin. — Ian Rankin

Scotland is divided into several police regions. Rebus works for Lothian and Borders Police, whose "beat" covers Edinburgh and most points south until you reach the English border. The region's HQ is based at Fettes Avenue in Edinburgh, and is often referred to by officers as "the Big House." Other main police stations in the capital include St. Leonard's (where Rebus is normally based), Leith (the port of Edinburgh), Gayfield Square and West End. The officer in charge of this region is known as the chief constable. He is served, in decreasing order of rank, by a deputy chief constable (DCC), two assistant chief constables (ACCs), and various detective chief superintendents (DCSs), — Ian Rankin

His eyes beheld beauty not in reality but in the printed word. Standing in the waiting-room, he realized that in his life he had accepted secondary experience
the experience of reading someone else's thoughts
over real life. — Ian Rankin

I don't think I have one particular favourite writer. I have many whose works I will always buy or reread - Muriel Spark, Anthony Powell, Robert Louis Stevenson, Ruth Rendell, James Ellroy, William McIlvanney, Kate Atkinson, John Burnside, Louise Welsh, Iain Banks. — Ian Rankin

No matter how many awards you've won or how many sales you've got, come the next book it's still a blank sheet of paper and you're still panicking like hell that you've got nothing new to say. — Ian Rankin

But you used to know a good thing when you saw it.

Trouble is, that's never what I see when I look in the mirror.

What do you see? He looked at her.

Sometimes I don't see anything at all. — Ian Rankin

I don't have many friends. It's not because I'm a misanthrope. It's because I'm reserved. I'm self-contained. I get all my adventures in my head when I'm writing my books. — Ian Rankin

No sooner had he finished with a case than another two or three appeared in its place. What was the name of that creature? The Hydra, was it? That was what he was fighting. Every time he cut off a head, more popped into his in-tray. Coming back from a holiday was a nightmare. And now they were giving him rocks to push up hills as well. — Ian Rankin

He'd tried to talk to you about anarchy yesterday but his English and your French conspired against the dialog. — Ian Rankin

Everything you do from waking till sleeping is against somebody's Bible, Cafferty. — Ian Rankin

Right from the very beginning, I knew I wanted to write palpably Scottish fiction. — Ian Rankin

when the shit was heading fanwards. — Ian Rankin

I'm game if you are. — Ian Rankin

Rebus drank his coffee and felt his head spin. He was feeling like the detective in a cheap thriller, and wished that he could turn to the last page and stop all his confusion, all the death and the madness and the spinning in his ears. — Ian Rankin

You weren't kidding about the rolls," Rebus said, taking another bite.

"Bacon just the right side of crispy," Robert Chatham agreed.

They were seated across from one another at a booth with padded seats and a Formica-topped table. Mugs of dark-brown tea and plates in front of them, Radio Forth belting out from the kitchen. — Ian Rankin

I doubt he'd give me the smell from his farts - no, tell a lie: in that one respect he's being more than generous. — Ian Rankin

As usual, Vanderhyde's memory was sharp enough when it suited him. 'That's true. All the same, you were there.' 'Yes, I was. But I left several hours before the fire started. Not guilty, your honour.' 'Why were you there in the first place?' 'To meet a friend for a drink.' 'A seedy place for a drink.' 'Was it? You'll have to remember, Inspector, I couldn't see anything. It certainly didn't smell or feel particularly disreputable.' 'Point taken.' 'I had my memories. To me, it was the same old Central Hotel I'd lunched in and danced in. I quite enjoyed the evening. — Ian Rankin

I used to think that: whenever I heard that someone had taken 10 years to write a novel, I'd think it must be a big, serious book. Now I think, 'No - it took you one year to write, and nine years to sit around eating Kit Kats.' — Ian Rankin

We've already eaten,' Fox said. 'Nice, was — Ian Rankin

Was it all inevitable, John?" Reeve was pushing his fingers across the floor of the cell, seated on his haunches. I was lying on the mattress.
Yes," I said. "I think it was. Certainly, it's written that way. The end of the book is there before the beginning's hardly started. — Ian Rankin

...despite rumors to the contrary, you're on the side of the angels. (...) Whether you like it or not. — Ian Rankin

Rebus nodded his understanding. The Murder Room was quiet when he reached it. Roy Frazer was reading a paper. "Finished with this?" Rebus asked, picking up another. Frazer nodded. "Chicken phal," Rebus explained, rubbing his stomach. "Hold all my calls and let everyone know the shunkie's off-limits." Frazer nodded and smiled. Saturday morning on the bog with the paper: everyone had done it at one time. — Ian Rankin

Places changing and people with them, dreams shifting ever further beyond reach. — Ian Rankin

Bad Men Do What Good Men — Ian Rankin

From this height the sleeping city seems like a child's construction, a model which has refused to be constrained by imagination. The volcanic plug might be black Plasticine, the castle balanced solidly atop it a skewed rendition of crenellated building bricks. The orange street lamps are crumpled toffee-wrappers glued to lollipop sticks. — Ian Rankin

What happens to sanity when you chain it to a wall? — Ian Rankin

POETS Day, remember! Fox smiled to himself: Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday. It was all the invitation he needed. — Ian Rankin

Tell me, Francis, do you buy your one-liners wholesale? Only they're well past their sell-by. — Ian Rankin

The mistrust and resentment they brought with them, the way tribes feared anything new, anything from outside the camp's tight confines. — Ian Rankin

I am, of course, a frustrated rock star - I'd much rather be a rock star than a writer. Or own a record shop. Still, it's not a bad life, is it? You just sit at a computer and make stuff up. — Ian Rankin

Woodwork creaks and out come the freaks, eh? — Ian Rankin

I took the first James Kelman novel, 'The Bus Conductor Hines', home to my dad. I thought, 'My dad will like this; it's written in Scots.' But my dad said: 'I can't read that.' He was reading James Bond and John le Carre. That was part of what attracted me to crime - the idea of getting a wide audience. — Ian Rankin

Scotsman's way of dealing with death. He'd found — Ian Rankin

I've always written. At the age of six or seven, I would get sheets of A4 paper and fold them in half, cut the edges to make a little eight-page booklet, break it up into squares and put in little stick men with little speech bubbles, and I'd have a spy story, a space story and a football story. — Ian Rankin

He's as smooth as a fresh-laid turd and gives off the same smell. — Ian Rankin

I still think most writers are just kids who refuse to grow up. We're still playing imaginary games, with our imaginary friends. — Ian Rankin

St. Leonard's Police Station DS Siobhan Clarke (pronounced "Shiv-awn") DI Derek Linford no friend to Rebus, disliked by Siobhan DCS Gill Templer officer in charge of St. Leonard's DC David Hynds a new recruit DS George "Hi-Ho" Silvers officer with both eyes on approaching pension DC Grant Hood young and unpredictable officer with a crush on Siobhan DC Phyllida Hawes tough female officer, usually based at Gayfield Square DCI Bill Pryde second in command to DCS Gill Templer The Edward Marber Murder Case Edward Marber murdered Edinburgh art dealer Cynthia Bessant friend of the — Ian Rankin

We've piled his plate high with shit," Fox conceded. "And not even tied a bib around his neck," Kaye added. "Is your afternoon grilling to be courtesy of a woman called Stoddart? — Ian Rankin

It was the laughter of birthdays, of money found in an old pocket. — Ian Rankin

Down Where the Drunkards Roll." "How — Ian Rankin

And little girls went to charm schools. Now you've all got degrees from the University of Sarcasm. — Ian Rankin

[About a tiresome colleague]: He could bore for Scotland. — Ian Rankin

At all times, think like a writer, and keep those antennae twitching - that way, you pick up new ideas. — Ian Rankin

I love short stories - reading and writing them. The best short stories distill all the potency of a novel into a small but heady draught. They are perfect reading material for the bus or train or for a lunchtime break. Everything extraneous has been strained off by the author. The best short stories pack the heft of any novel, yet resonate like poetry. — Ian Rankin

I'm interested in Scotland now and then, how it's changed. I want to get the reader to think about that by thinking about something from the past. How has society changed, how has policing changed, have we changed philosophically, psychologically, culturally, spiritually? — Ian Rankin

You need a great idea, but then you've got to carry it through. If you get it right, you're going to be a critical success. But not everyone who works hard gets it right, or has the success they deserve: there's an element of luck. — Ian Rankin

He wondered what percentage of the world's art was actually kept in bank vaults and the like. Like unread books and unplayed music, did it matter that art went unseen? — Ian Rankin

Sky glowing dull pink. Simmer dim, as the Shetlanders called — Ian Rankin

Rebus reminded himself to stop praying. Perhaps if he stopped praying, God would take the hint and stop being such a bastard to one of his few believers on this near-godforsaken planet. — Ian Rankin

I've just worked out what the music on the speakers is," he said. "It's John Martyn, Over The Hill."
"And ?"
"And nothing. It's just, maybe I'm not there yet. — Ian Rankin

My father was a slave to capitalist ideology. He didn't know what he was doing."
"You mean you went to an expensive school? — Ian Rankin

all eyes turned towards him, entered the — Ian Rankin

Often he declined invitations, because to accept meant that he had to dust off his brogues, iron a shirt, brush down his best suit, take a bath, and splash on some cologne. He had also to be affable, to drink and be merry, to talk to strangers with whom he had no inclination to talk and with whom he was not being paid to talk. In other words, he resented having to play the part of a normal human animal. — Ian Rankin

POETS day," he reminded Siobhan. "Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday," she recited. — Ian Rankin

He had perfected the art of looking interested, and could grasp in surprise at any and every predictable punchline. — Ian Rankin

John Rebus ~ he tried to walk through the isles (of the book shop) without focusing. If he focused he would become interested and if he became interested he would buy. He already had over fifty unread books at home, piled next to his bed — Ian Rankin

I think writers have to be proactive: they've got to use new technology and social media. Yes, it's hard to get noticed by traditional publishers, but there's a great deal of opportunity out there if you've got the right story. — Ian Rankin

Rather than hanging around like a fart under a duvet. — Ian Rankin

Rebus remembered that the premature withdrawal of the penis during intercourse for contraceptive reasons was often referred to as 'getting off at Haymarket. — Ian Rankin

At the time, most bodies worked on by anatomists were cold indeed. They were brought to Edinburgh from all over Britain
some came by way of the Union Canal. The resurrectionists
body-snatchers
pickled them in whisky for transportation. It was a lucrative trade."
"But did the whisky get drunk afterwards?"
Devlin chuckled. "Economics would dictate that it did. — Ian Rankin

Hardship bred a bitter, quickfire humour and resilience to all but the most terminal of life's tragedies. — Ian Rankin

There's an insult buried in there somewhere, but I can't quite see it. — Ian Rankin

This was the winter of 2008/9. Work was ongoing to reinstate a tram system in the city. A lot of people couldn't see the point of trams and many more disliked the disruption. Streets were closed off. There was almost a sense of 'apartheid' as the roadworks made it difficult to move from New Town to Old Town and vice versa. Added to which, the weather was fairly grim. And the banks looked ready to implode. — Ian Rankin

I started writing novels while an undergraduate student, in an attempt to make sense of the city of Edinburgh, using a detective as my protagonist. Each book hopefully adds another piece to the jigsaw that is modern Scotland, asking questions about the nation's politics, economy, psyche and history ... and perhaps pointing towards its possible future. — Ian Rankin

War created bizarre allies, while peace itself could be divisive. — Ian Rankin

My first novel was turned down by half a dozen publishers. And even after having published five or six books, I wasn't making enough money to live on, and was beginning to think I'd have to give up the dream of being a full-time writer. — Ian Rankin