I am buzzing about Alan Parks’ new wartime series. I loved his Harry McCoy series so much, and this new series looks set to hit the high notes. March 1941, Glasgow is choking on smog, rubble, and the constant thrum of Luftwaffe bombs. Joe Gunner, ex-detective, front-line survivor, and now morphine-dependent shadow of a man, is our guide through a city teetering on collapse. Parks doesn’t just set a scene; he drags us, limping and breathless, into the heart of violence and conspiracy. Gunner returns to a Glasgow he barely recognises; the Blitz has destroyed many parts of the city.
Gunner isn’t a conventional hero; he’s raw. His leg injury and morphine habit are his anchors. Every step he takes, every thought he battles, comes layered with physical pain and fogged memory. His need to lie low, to just subsist, collides with a hardened instinct to pursue justice. It’s a brilliant tension: a man desperate for peace but haunted by duty. Those inner dialogues, wrestling regret, guilt, and relief, elevate him into something achingly human. And as if he hadn’t enough troubles, his brother is not just a conscientious objector, he’s an active troublemaker protesting on behalf of the working-class lads who are dragged off to war without a thought for their lives.
From the moment his old boss, Drummond, re-enters the scene, dragging him into the ruins, the chemistry crackles. Their rapport is familiar, like an unhealed wound. And when Gunner meets security high-ups from military intelligence, scrutiny and suspicion flash each time he’s positioned between loyalty to his city and the crown. These conversations feel sharpened by the paranoia of the 1940s, where every sidelong glance and every clipped syllable speaks volumes about trust in wartime Britain.
The plot moves forward at pace once Gunner examines a mutilated corpse in a bombed tenement, and then he learns just how outlandish the truth is. Parks channels the real 1941 Rudolph Hess mission into a conspiracy that pulses with shadowy menace. It’s espionage rooted in historical plausibility but with imaginative twists that kept me guessing.
You can breathe the dust and kick the rubble in the streets, hear the wail of sirens, and feel the crowd’s fear and anger after each raid. Parks’ research is meticulous—the gangland tensions, the political paranoia, the fear of ‘enemy aliens’—it’s all woven in with believable texture. The nuances about conscientious objectors, wartime British attitudes, even how morphine was administered, all zing with authenticity.
Parks’ writing never drags. One moment, Gunner’s morphine habit slows him; the next, he’s ducking debris or reading secret memos. Parks’ lean prose, in which no word is wasted, matches Gunner’s fractured psyche. He’s full of moral ambiguity. Violence hits hard. Suspense coils until it snaps. It’s bruising, fast, and beautifully bleak.
Verdict: I love how Parks imagines Glasgow during the Blitz—a city of smoke and shadows, of secrets half-buried in rubble and memory. Gunner, with his tangled loyalties and limp, is a hero for these times. This is an immersive, tightly-wound thriller that will keep you reading into the small hours. If you love noir, history, or just a brilliant story, don’t miss this one.