Nineteen Eighty

Red Riding #3

by David Peace

"Set in a world in which black comes in many shades, this powerful, stark and strangely poetic series is turning into a considerable achievement."- Guardian The third novel in David Peace's acclaimed Red Riding Quartet sees Yorkshire terrorized by the Ripper while the corrupt police continue to prosper. Weaving his own extraordinary fiction around the terrible history of the time, David Peace has once again produced a thriller that goes above and beyond the limits of the genre.

Genres: Fiction, Crime, Mystery, Historical Fiction, Thriller, Noir, Detective

386 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2001

About the author

David Peace was born in 1967 and grew up in Ossett, near Wakefield. He left Manchester Polytechnic in 1991, and went to Istanbul to teach English. In 1994 he took up a teaching post in Tokyo and now lives there with his family.

His formative years were shadowed by the activities of the Yorkshire Ripper, and this had a profound influence on him which led to a strong interest in crime. His quartet of Red Riding books grew from this obsession with the dark side of Yorkshire. These are powerful novels of crime and police corruption, using the Yorkshire Ripper as their basis and inspiration. They are entitled Nineteen Seventy-Four, (1999), Nineteen Seventy-Seven (2000), Nineteen Eighty (2001), and Nineteen Eighty-Three (2002), and have been translated into French, Italian, German and Japanese.

In 2003 David Peace was named by Granta magazine as one of twenty "Best Young British Novelists." His novel GB84, set during the 1984 miners' strike, was published in 2005.

from contemporarywriters.com

Reviews

[Baba · Rating 4 out of 5]

The lure of the stark dark times underscored by the reign of the Yorkshire Ripper in the 1970s and 1980s continues to both fascinate and horrify me. The Ripper has struck and murdered for the thirteenth time and the North of England is shell shocked. Assistant Chief Constable Hunter is assigned to investigate the Ripper investigations, in a place and time when the police were highly corrupt, so we know this won't end well.

As evidence begins to emerge that maybe, just maybe not all the victims are the Rippers, Hunter himself is accuse of being suspect! As the previous books in this series the tone, style and layout of the book is an accompanying voice to the seedy, backroom wheeler dealing police. I still don't fully understand why it took me so long to find this writer, and I only did by chance. as some critics have already shared and I agree, this is the future of UK crime fiction. A Four star, 8 out of 12 read for me.

2025 read

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you are thinking of reading this novel, the chances are you have already read the first two novels in the Red Riding Quartet: Red Riding Nineteen Seventy Four (Red Riding Quartet) and Red Riding Nineteen Seventy Seven: Red Riding Quartet. They do have many interweaving characters and this book will make little sense if you have not read those before, but if you have then rest assured that this is every bit as dark and atmospheric as the earlier books.

The third in the quartet has Assistant Chief Constable Peter Hunter asked to head a taskforce to look into the Ripper investigation. It is, as the football fans ironically cheer at games, "Ripper 13, police 0" and Hunter handpicks his team with care. George Oldham, meanwhile, has no idea he is to be replaced in a case which has become intensely personal for him and, it is fair to say, that Peter Hunter's contibution is not welcomed by the local force.

Peter Hunter is a man who already has a personal interest in the case and whose garden shed is covered with photo's of the Ripper's victims. As his wife suffers miscarriage after miscarriage and the terrible loss of being childless weighs on her, the author cleverly conveys the way the desire for a child can take over your life. Hunter himself feels he has made himself a bargain - if he stops the Ripper, they will have a child. Meanwhile, this is set in December 1980 - the news is dominated by the murder of John Lennon, of terrorist hostages and Thatcher. Driving back and forth between Leeds and Bradford, Hunter drives over the moors, imagining the victims of the Moors Murders. Crime fiction doesn't come much darker than this.

As Hunter begins his investigation, names appear from previous books that you will be familiar with, including Jack Whitehead and murder victims such as Janice Ryan, which earlier characters felt were not committed by the Ripper. Suddenly, the body count is rising and Peter Hunter finds himself being turned upon by those who should be aiding his investigation. It is hard to see how the author could make this gritty series any harsher, but I look forward to reading the finale in the final book Red Riding Nineteen Eighty Three: Red Riding Quartet. For those who like their crime books firmly set in reality, this sordid and violent tale of police corruption and murder will surely hit the mark.

[Toby · Rating 4 out of 5]

The third entry in the Red Riding Quartet is the best yet, I honestly don't know how Peace continues to find new, more bleak ways to punish his protagonists but "good man" Peter Hunter investigates both the Yorkshire Ripper and the corrupt police force that have so far failed to capture him he rapidly descends in to a similar mental hell that has plagued previous protagonists who attempt to go against the grain and achieve good for the people of Yorkshire, until even this good man with a good wife finds himself circling the drain ready to do the previously unthinkable.

The Ripper investigation is only secondary to the character study, which is fantastic as I'd have little to no interest in a fictional tale of that manhunt, and the way that Peace juggles his pieces keeps the reader invested in the man and the hunt and the internal affairs and the events of previous books and the whole thing is laced with misery and despair, hinted at shenanigans, mixed loyalties, and the constant hope that this clue, this time, this moment, this travesty, this is where things begin to clear, the Leeds hell begins to burn less, this man will come out of it damaged but able to go forward and help bring justice, save Yorkshire from drowning in hatred and fear, stop the killings of young girls, of prostitutes, of mothers, of daughters, of wives, of innocence, of hope.

This series is incredible, unique in my experience of crime fiction, to the point where I just want to read the entire sequence without cleansing the palate, following Peace down this rabbit hole without hesitation.

[Berengaria · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting crime, deeply-feeling and flawed characters, an excellent sense for the time and place, but with a confusing plot and investigation. Especially the later half of the novel and the ???? ending.

I absolutely adored Peace's "Damned United" and wanted to read something else from him, so when this one floated by, I grabbed it...and it quickly became clear one should read this series in order! Based on this later instalment, however, don't think I'll be going out of my way to start the series correctly, although I can see it has merit as a literary experiment, and a few scenes, especially the ones at the press conferences, were impressively crafted.

[Chad Post · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the things I like so much about the Red Riding Quarter is how the search for the Yorkshire Ripper is secondary to an understanding of the deeper, more disturbing crimes that are going on, hidden beneath the attention focused on the Ripper. As if the idea of a serial killer targeting women wasn't dark enough, Peace unveils levels and levels of corruption and disturbing activity, implicating the police and local businessmen in something much more fucked.

Also, these books, each feature a different narrator (or narrators) whose lives are poisoned by their proximity to this case. The way all the threads weave together, along with the number of bodies, destroyed minds, and ruined lives highlighted along the way provide more than enough plot to keep most anyone engaged.

But it's Peace's style that I most adore. The repetitions, the clipped nature of the sentences, the more formally experimental bits (like the unpunctuated depictions of the Ripper's murders that preface each one of the chapters in this book) make this much more than a simple "thriller." It's more artful than that, and given the fact that neither the reader nor the policemen are given enough clues to "solve" the crime of the Ripper, narrators take center-stage, making this as much about their dissolutions as about the crimes themselves.

Last night I thought I would start this review by stating that Peace was like the Gertrude Stein of crime fiction. This morning I realized how dumb that sounds, but whatever.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mesmerising, intense, powerful - part 3 of Peace's quartet continues its devastating journey through a Yorkshire via the hellscape imagination of a Hieronymous Bosch. Utterly uncompromising, prepare to be shattered as characters are destroyed before our eyes. Taking a deep breath before the final book...

[Rob · Rating 5 out of 5]

"‘It’s a big black bloody world full of a million black and bloody hells, and when those hells collide it’s time for us to sit up and take fucking notice.’"

Falling roughly halfway through David Peace’s brutal 1980, there’s perhaps no better quote to sum up the worldview on full display in his Red Riding Quartet and especially in this book, the third in that series. I’ve never been one to need relatable – or even likable – characters. While that’s certainly nice when it happens, I’m primarily a tourist when I read: show me something I’ve never seen before, force me to interact with people I don’t meet on a daily basis, corner me in a situation where I have to grapple with moral and ethical implications I’ve never considered. How boring must it be to need to identify with everything you read? In this respect – taking us on a journey we’ve never taken with people we’ve (thankfully) never met – the book undoubtedly succeeds.

Even though Peace’s series takes place in the North of England, a location with which I’m more than passingly acquainted, there’s no way not to feel out of your element as you read it. Set primarily in Manchester, Leeds, and Wakefield, 1980 is the most focused, stripped-down of the series so far. It focuses on Peter Hunter, a cop who’s tapped to lead a special squad investigating the Yorkshire Ripper, a serial killer who, at the start of the book, has murdered thirteen women – mainly prostitutes – over five years. Hunter’s brief is to catch the Ripper, but if he’s also able to uncover negligence or malfeasance in prior police investigations, so much the better.

1980 is different from the previous two books in that the Ripper case is central to the plot and more than just a backdrop, but Peace’s eye is still trained on corruption: corruption of the press, of the police, of the clergy, of the penal system, of married couples and the lies they tell one another. No one escapes. As in his other books, Peace is stingy with detail, preferring instead to emphasize rhythm and repetition over rich passages of description. We’re given the bare minimum of what we need to make sense of the story, coming to the case of the Yorkshire Ripper with just as much knowledge as Hunter and his team. Thematically and stylistically it’s a claustrophobic experience, one that won’t be to everyone’s liking. For me, though, steeped in a love of Vonnegut, Ellroy, and McCarthy, Peace’s staccato riffing is catnip.

"New Year’s Eve, 1980:
Dawn or dusk, it’s all fucked up –
The End of the World –
Fucked up and running –
Running from Dewsbury Police Station –
Dewsbury Police Station –
Modern lies amongst the black –
Crowds gathering –
Posters out:
The Ripper is a coward –
Defaced:
Hang him!
The homemade nooses, the studded wristbands –
The skinheads and their mums, the mohicans and their nans.
Running to the car park up the road from the police station, puddles of rain water and motor oil underfoot –
The car park already full –
Journalists, TV crews, the word spread –
Birds overhead, screaming –
Rain, pouring –
The clouds black above us, the hills darker still –
Hills of hard houses, bleak times –
Warehouse eyes, mill stares –
Unlocking the door, running –
Engine running, running scared –
The North after the bomb –
Murder and lies, lies and murder –
War."

Unlike Chuck Palahniuk, for whom this sort of thing often feels like a gimmick, Peace uses it purposefully, often to emphasize forward momentum, as in this passage near the book’s climax:

"I park under the dark arches with the water and the rats –
Out of the car, coat up –
Running up through the arches, past the Scarborough –
Into the Griffin –
Ringing the bell, waiting –
Fuck it –
Snatching the key from behind the desk –
Into the lift –
Pressing 7 –
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 –
Out of the lift –
Down the corridor –
Tripping –
On the dark stair, we miss our step –
Room 77 –
Key in the door –
Into the room –
Checking my watch, radio on, picking up the phone, getting a dialling tone, pulling the numbers round –
Ringing, ringing –
‘Joan?’
‘Peter? Where are you?’"

The book doesn’t read this way throughout. Peace employs it strategically, and uses it to reinforce both Hunter’s single-mindedness and the book’s hermetic worldview.

None of this is to say the book isn’t without light. Hunter is a compelling character: a driven cop, a loyal husband, a man who nimbly walks the line between Right and Wrong. We want him to succeed, to catch the Ripper, to end the killer’s reign of terror. But Peace gives us just enough light to make it more powerful when he snuffs it out. Hunter is dealt two devastating blows in the book’s final third, and it’s been a while since I felt such a discomfiting, vice-like churning in my gut. I was physically disturbed to the point where I had to put the book down and walk away from it for a bit. For someone as desensitized as me, that’s some serious shit.

And then there’s the ending, which I can’t give away. Some will view it as an easy, nihilistic out. For me, though, it’s the perfect précis for what Peace has been trying to tell us all along, and which I mentioned earlier: no one escapes. It’s a bleak, uncompromising perspective, but when books often candy-coat things in the name of a hopeful resolution, 1980 is, for me at least, a welcome reminder of just how dangerous the world can be.

Read all my reviews at goldstarforrobotboy.net

[Christine · Rating 2 out of 5]

Didn't enjoy this one. Perhaps it is the continuously bleak plots about men who are trying to find a killer of women but who aren't really much better or that interesting. Maybe because a story that is about women being killed should, I don't know, feature more women.

Maybe it was simply the format of the chapter introductions that annoyed.

[Gavin Armour · Rating 5 out of 5]

[Bezieht sich auf das Heyne Hardcore Paperback]

1980 (NINETEEN EIGHTY/2001; Dt. 2007) sind alle Beteiligten der Ermittlungen zu den Morden des Yorkshire-Ripper ermüdet, frustriert und entmutigt. Da wird Peter Hunter – ein Ermittler aus Manchester, der bereits frühere interne Ermittlungen leitete, darunter jene zum Massaker in einer Bar in West-Yorkshire, an der Eddie Dunford, Protagonist des ersten Bandes, 1974 (NINETEEN FOURTY-FOUR/1999; Dt. 2005) des Red-Riding-Quartetts von David Peace, beteiligt war – vom Innenministerium beauftragt, die Ripper-Ermittlungen zu untersuchen. Mit seinem handverlesenen Team aus vier Kollegen reist er nach Leeds und geht systematisch noch einmal alle Akten durch, die es bisher zu den Morden gibt. Er und sein Team versuchen Zusammenhänge herzustellen, Licht ins Dunkel der immer mehr versandenden Ermittlungen zu bringen, bei denen in Yorkshire scheinbar alle längst ihren Weg verloren haben. Nur wird Hunter im Verlauf seiner Recherchen immer bewusster, daß hier nicht einfach Schlampigkeit, eine gewisse Unlust und mangelnder Wille zur Aufklärung vorliegen, sondern offensichtlich auch bewusste Fehlinterpretationen, falsche Fährten und Annahmen gelegt und genutzt wurden, um ein größeres Bild hinter den Morden an bisher immerhin elf Prostituierten zu verstecken, Korruption und möglicherweise gar Schlimmeres zu kaschieren. Je näher Hunter einer vermeintlichen Wahrheit kommt, desto schwerer werden ihm die Ermittlungen gemacht, desto stärker wird er angefeindet und gemobbt, bis er nicht mehr weiß, wer Freund, wer Feind ist. Auch er selbst ist nicht ganz so sauber, nicht ganz so frei von Schuld, wie er sich gern sähe. Und der Ripper mordet weiter….

Band drei des Red-Riding-Quartetts, das David Peace in den Jahren 1999 bis 2002 veröffentlichte, wirkt wie eine Konsolidierung. Mit Peter Hunter, der in den Vorgängerbänden mehrmals erwähnt wird und bei seinen Kollegen verhasst ist, führt Peace eine der wenigen Figuren in sein Panoptikum an Schuldbehafteten, Sündern und Verdammten ein, die etwas heller strahlen, die nicht ganz so verkommen sind wie all die Eric Halls, Bob Fosters, Maurice Jobson´, Dick Aldeman´, Bob Craven und wie all die Polizisten heißen, denen man in Band eins und Band zwei bereits begegnet ist. Hunter scheint willens, wirklich aufzuklären, er und seine Truppe, vor allem sein Freund und Kollege John Murphy, auf den er große Stücke hält, gehen die Sache zunächst mit Enthusiasmus an und es gelingt ihnen auch, die einen oder andere Verbindung herzustellen. Und doch ahnt der Leser bald, daß die Kräfte, die sich mit aller Gewalt gegen diese interne Ermittlung stemmen, möglicherweise stärker als Hunter und seine Leute sind. Und vor allem haben sie ihrerseits Verbindungen, die es ihnen ermöglichen, im richtigen Moment auf diese Ermittlungen einzuwirken. Und sei es durch bitteren Verrat.

Einmal mehr entsteht vor den Augen des Lesers das Bild einer verkommenen, ja verdorbenen Gesellschaft. Peace arbeitet – wie in den Bänden zuvor auch schon – mit allerhand Mitteln der Verfremdung, mit Einschüben und Wiederholungen. Jedem Kapitel wird ein interpunktionsfreier Fließtext vorangestellt, den man komplett für sich lesen kann, unabhängig von den jeweils folgenden Kapiteln, da er sich fortsetzt. Es ist eine Mischung aus Akteneinträgen, späteren Erklärungen von Sutcliffe, dem Ripper, der 1980 schließlich eher durch Zufall gefasst werden konnte, aber auch aus den Stimmen seiner Opfer, die von einem Ort jenseits dessen, was wir uns vorstellen mögen, berichten. Von der Einsamkeit des Sterbens und der Hoffnungslosigkeit des Todes wird da durch geisterhafte Stimmen erzählt. Und wir begreifen immer besser, wie unwichtig all diese Frauen – und Kinder, denn unterschwellig wird immer auch die Geschichte der verschwundenen Kinder, die noch Band eins bestimmte, miterzählt – für so ziemlich alle sind, die an den Ermittlungen teilhaben. Immer gibt es etwas Wesentlicheres, eigene Vorteile müssen gesichert, eigene Machenschaften gedeckt werden. Und so ahnen wir eher, als daß wir wissen, wie tief die Verstrickungen einiger hier – Polizisten, Honoratioren, städtische Abgeordnete, Anwälte, Wirtschaftsmagnaten und Politiker – sind, wie einfach hier Menschen, auch solche, die eben noch Mit-Verschwörer und Kollegen waren, fallen gelassen werden und es drängt sich mehr und mehr der Eindruck auf, daß es in diesem Sündenpfuhl, dieser Hölle, die Yorkshire in den 70er und 80er Jahren nach David Peace Auffassung gewesen sein muß, keine Erlösung, keine Errettung, geben wird. Kein Ausweg. Und kein Ende.

Peace verstärkt jene Rhapsodie, die schon in Band zwei anklang, immer mehr. Die ständigen Wiederholungen einzelner Sentenzen, Wörter, ganzer Absätze, in unterschiedlichen Zusammenhängen und nicht immer einer Figur zugeordnet (obwohl dies eines der wenigen strukturellen Merkmale des Textes ist, das Peace dann aber immer wieder durchbricht und aufgibt), stürzt, drischt geradezu auf den Leser ein und vermittelt den Eindruck, eher ein Langgedicht zu lesen, als einen Roman. Das könnte in seiner gefühlten Sprunghaftigkeit eine Hommage an William Burroughs´ Cut-Up-Techniken sein, erinnert aber mehr noch an die Texte eines Allen Ginsberg, an seine ellenlangen Wortkaskaden in THE HOWL und anderen Werken des Beat-Poeten. I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the Negro Streets at dawn looking for an angry fix – jene ersten Zeilen dieses Großwerks der amerikanischen Dichtkunst des 20. Jahrhunderts könnten gut und gern auch als Motto über Peace´ Texten stehen. Das Apokalyptische, das darin schon angelegt und geradezu beschworen wird, die Unausweichlichkeit, die darin aufschimmert, all das ist in Peace Werken virulent. Nur – ob es sich bei seinem Personal wirklich um die „best minds of my generation“ handelt, daran kann man zweifeln. Denn niemand hier kommt ungeschoren davon – und die wenigen, die zumindest um Redlichkeit bemüht sind, wie Hunter, werden gnadenlos von jenen geopfert, denen sie im Wege stehen, zu nahekommen oder nützlich erscheinen, bzw. denen ihr Opfer nützlich erscheint. Aus der Sicht dieser aber – für die die Welt längst zur Hölle geworden ist in der absoluten Abwesenheit eines gnädigen und mitleidsvollen Gottes, für diese mag es zutreffen, zu den „besten Geistern ihrer Generation“ zu gehören. Es kommt darauf an, von welcher Seite, von welchem Standpunkt aus man es betrachtet. Und was man in solch einem Zusammenhang unter Geistern versteht…

1980 führt nur wenige neue Figuren ein, lässt aber andere – AF bspw., jenen Stricher, der immer überall anwesend ist und mehr zu wissen scheint, als alle anderen und dieses Wissen doch nie preisgibt – dafür stärker hervortreten. Sie werden relevanter, erhalten mehr Gewicht im Gewirr der Stimmen, im Chor der Verdammten und Unerlösten, Unerlösbaren. Dazu gehört auch Reverend Laws, ein Priester, der an den Tatorten der Ripper-Morde ebenso auftaucht, wie er auch in Kontakt zu den Opferfamilien steht, zu Jack Whitehead, dem Reporter des Satans, aber auch Verbindungen zu Michael Myshkin und Johnny Ashford hat, jenen Männern, die mit den Kindermorden des ersten Bandes, 1974, in Verbindung gebracht wurden. Myshkin, ein Kind im Körper eines Mannes, wurde schließlich mit einem erzwungenen Geständnis in einer Psychiatrie untergebracht, womit einige, denen das gut zupasskam, meinten sich abgesichert zu haben. Aber auch Myshkin weiß Dinge, hat Dinge gesehen und bleibt gefährlich. Vor allem aber gehören auch diese Unschuldigen, die, die kaum verstehen, was um sie herum passiert, in diese Vorhölle, die Yorkshire im Jahr 1980 darstellt. In der Abwesenheit Gottes kann man die schlimmste Strafe sehen – und Gott, so sehr ihn einige hier, in den Tagen rund um das Weihnachtsfest, auch herbeisehnen und beschwören, Gott ist in diesem Leeds, diesem Yorkshire, diesem England (?) vollkommen abwesend. Auch darin kann man wohl einen der Gründe sehen, weshalb der Reverend, der sich auch ganz anderen kirchlichen Tätigkeiten hingibt, als der Kommunion, seine Kirche in ein Hotel verlegt hat, in ein gewisses Zimmer, in welchem er empfängt und Erlösung verspricht. Erlösung durch Exorzismus, bspw.

Damit wird der religiöse Aspekt noch einmal deutlicher, der das Gesamtwerk, also alle vier Bände, durchzieht. Zu der Vorstellung der Hölle, die für immer mehr dieser Figuren real ist, gesellt sich in 1980 erneut der Wahnsinn, der im Vorgängerband schon Jack Whitehead heimsuchte. Jenen „Gerichtsreporter des Jahres“, den es mit einem Nagel im Kopf in eine psychiatrische Anstalt verschlagen hat, wo er, unablässig weinend, den Urteilen entgegensieht, die einst über ihn gesprochen werden. Mit dem Wahnsinn kommt die Irrealität, kommen die Geister, kommen die Stimmen, die sich nicht mehr kontrollieren lassen, die die Sätze, die Absätze, die Worte heimsuchen, ihre eigene Sicht der Dinge ausdrücken und somit nicht nur die Handlung dieser Romane doppelbödig und brüchig machen, sondern die Sprache selbst, auf die immer weniger Verlaß zu sein scheint. Wer spricht hier? Ein Subjekt? Oder sind es längst Vergessene, die die Subjekte beherrschen –als Geister, in Träumen, als ungewollte Erinnerungen, als schlechtes Gewissen oder unerledigte Aufträge des eigenen Mensch-Seins – und sie und uns diese Welt, diese trübe Ödnis urbaner Trostlosigkeit und ruraler Langeweile, durch ihre Augen sehen lassen? So würde sich auch die Doppelung gewisser sprachlicher Muster erklären, Symbole und Zeichen, wie kratzende Äste an Fensterscheiben, die nicht mehr einzelnen Figuren zuzuordnen sind, sondern sich von ihren Signifikanten zu lösen scheinen und als immergleiche Wortwiederholungen nach und nach – auch Bände-übergreifend – einen jeden dieser Protagonisten heimsuchen können? Und schließlich stellt sich die Frage: Wer ist hier tot? Wer lebt? Oder lebt hier nichts und niemand mehr?

Wurde Band eins aus der Sicht eines Journalisten – Eddie Dunford – erzählt, Band zwei aus der Sicht zweier Figuren – Bob Fraser, jenem Polizisten, der mehrere Fälle zugleich aufklären sollte und vor allem zusehends zerrissen wurde zwischen seiner Familie und der Liebe zu einer Prostituierten, die, hoch gefährdet, schließlich dem Ripper zum Opfer fällt, und Jack Whitehead, jenem „Gerichtsreporter des Jahres“ bei der Evening Post, dem „Reporter des Satans“, der Liveberichte aus der Hölle zu verschicken wusste – konzentriert sich Band drei auf den Blickwinkel von Peter Hunter, den internen Ermittler. Das ermöglicht es dem Leser, noch einmal sämtliche Fakten zusammengestellt zu bekommen und doch – Peace´ Strategie geht einmal mehr auf – bieten sich wieder mehr Lücken, als daß man Antworten erhielte. Immer, wenn sich ein loses Ende mit einem anderen losen Ende zusammenzufügen scheint, tut sich ein weiteres offenes Ende auf, entstehen neue Lücken, stehen andere, ältere Antworten plötzlich in Frage. Schicht um Schicht legen sich die Ereignisse der Jahre 1969, 1972, 1974, 1975, 1977 übereinander, durchdringen einander, bedingen einander, immer undurchschaubarer wird dieses Geflecht und immer offenbarer wird, daß das, was heute passiert, schon vor Dekaden angelegt gewesen ist. Peace schafft einen Kosmos, der ebenso in die Breite, wie in die Tiefe geht, einen Kosmos aus Personen, aber ebenso einen historischen, wozu die Einsprengsel aus Radiosendungen, Musiktiteln und -texten, aus Radioshows und Zeitungsausschnitten beitragen, die immer auch eine zeit- und lokalspezifische, realistische Grundierung für den jeweiligen Abschnitt, über den er schreibt, bieten. Und die dennoch keinen Halt bieten, die keinen festen Grund darstellen, in deren Sätzen und Begriffen selbst schon wieder der nächste Schrecken, eine dunkle Ahnung, ein Omen zu lauern scheint. Zeichen, nichts als Zeichen, und wer klug genug ist, versucht nicht, sie zu ergründen.

Das gesamte Red-Riding-Quartett könnte auch als Anti-Kriminalliteratur betrachtet werden, denn hier wird nichts wirklich aufgeklärt, vielmehr sind gerade die, die für die Aufklärung zuständig wären, daran interessiert, daß niemand allzu genau hinschaut. Ihnen kommen die Ripper-Morde gerade recht, so wie ihnen auch die verschwundenen Kinder der Jahre 1969, 1972 und 1974 gerade recht kamen, um abzulenken, um unter den Teppich zu kehren, was nicht ans Licht der Öffentlichkeit gelangen sollte. Wobei jemand wie Eddie Dunford, ein Mann, der in Yorkshire geboren wurde, aber dennoch von außen kam, eben viel zu viel Staub aufgewirbelt und dennoch mit seiner Verzweiflungstat am Ende des ersten Bandes auch allen einen Gefallen getan hatte. Nein, anstatt uns zu zeigen, wie die Polizei arbeitet und Verbrechen aufklärt, zeigt David Peace seinen Lesern, wie Verbrechen genutzt werden, um andere Verbrechen – bspw. Korruption – zu decken und zu verschleiern. Und das tut er – siehe oben – in Form eines großen, schier endlosen Gesangs. Eines Gesangs, eines Gedichts, eines Klagelieds. So ätzend diese Texte sind, so voller Gewalt, Hass, Folter, Verachtung, Alkohol, Kotze, Scheiße und Pisse – denn hier wir dauernd getrunken, gekotzt und gepisst – , so abwesend hier jede Mitmenschlichkeit ist, so ist dies doch nie zynisch in dem Sinne, daß der Autor auch nur irgendetwas davon als rechtmäßig erscheinen ließe. Es ist ein Bericht aus der Hölle und die Hölle ist einfach der Normalzustand für die Menschen, die hier leben. Einfach, ganz einfach.

Peace wird gelegentlich mit James Ellroy verglichen, meist aufgrund des Stils, der auch bei dem Briten manchmal enorm reduktiv ist, bis einzelne Zeilen nur noch ein Wort aufweisen, doch der Vergleich hinkt. Peace ist im Grunde ein Moralist. Er begibt sich an die dunkelsten Orte seiner Heimat – er wurde 1967 in Ossett, West Yorkshire, geboren – , er lässt sich mit einigen der fürchterlichsten Gestalten der jüngeren Literatur ein und begleitet Opfer und Täter an Orte, an die wir alle nie gelangen wollten, um all das, was er sieht, all das, dessen er gewahr werden muß, all diese monströsen Beziehungen, Zusammenhänge und Verstrickungen zu beschreiben. Und er beschreibt, er erklärt nichts. Im Grunde beschreibt er nicht einmal, sondern er gibt An- und Abrisse des Seelenlebens derer, aus deren Perspektive er gerade schreibt. Er lässt vor den Augen seiner Leser ein Gesellschafts-, mehr noch ein Sittengemälde entstehen, in dem man, wie die Protagonisten, nach und nach verloren geht. Das ist nicht einfach Kriminalliteratur, das ist Literatur auf hohem Niveau. Das tut unendlich weh und hinterlasst beim Leser einen sehr unangenehmen Geschmack. Und es hört und hört nicht auf.

[Pinko Palest · Rating 5 out of 5]

this is the John Stalker bit. Even more depressing than usual, the stench of corruption was a bit too much for me

[Richard Wright · Rating 5 out of 5]

Better than Nineteen Seventy-Four and Nineteen Seventy-Seven, thanks to a clearer narrative. For the first time, there's also a truly likeable narrator in Peter Hunter, a leading man whose qualities outweigh his flaws (setting him apart from the likes of Eddie and Jack in previous books). And finally, an honest copper, though I'm not sure what it says about the Yorkshire police force that they had to fly one in from Manchester. Of course, the fact that I warmed to Hunter made the author's now familiar breakdown of the character's world even more wrenching. His struggle to unearth the corruption in the Yorkshire force, and the failings in their Yorkshire Ripper investigation, does not go unnoticed, the repercussions, while predictable by this point in the quartet, are shattering.

[Leah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Entering the third quarter of the bleak, jarring horrorshow that is Red Riding, all the threads begin ever so slowly to pull together from the sordid beginnings in 1974. The Ripper is still out there, the Ripper Team as up to their necks in it as he is, and about to come under official, secret investigation.

All our old heroes are dead or mad or gone, for whatever it's worth. Our newest hero is the upstanding type of cop that all the others hate - brought in to decide whether or not they've done their jobs properly, nobody is surprised that his path isn't smooth. And what harm is it that he's as deep in the Yorkshire quagmire as any of his associates? Everyone knows everyone in the North. Businessmen know cops, pornographers know ex-cops, journalists know criminals, prostitutes know everyone.

This book was less jarring than 1977, focused as we are on Peter Hunter's mind and his own obsession with the Ripper case, his own misery at being childless, his own determination to do what's right in the face of the entrenched and ingrained corruption of his colleagues. He's a good man - or is he? - but this situation ruins everyone it touches, unless they were in on it from the start. And which ones were?

The old stories loom beneath the murky surface: Paula Garland, Clare Strachan, Janice Ryan, the Strafford. All linked, but not how we think. John Dawson and his swans, Bob Fraser and his whore, Eddie Dunford and his piles of evidence. Peter Hunter and his collection of porn, his memories of the cases that don't quite add up. Men and their wives and children murdered, burned, raped, dismembered, drowned, stabbed, recorded, hanged, destroyed. And all just digging the hole deeper and deeper.

Peace has accomplished an incredible feat with this series, and though I normally hate reading books in the same series in a row, this one can't really be read any other way. Dreary and engrossing, repetitive and dirty, the reader feels every rotting plank of wood, every dripping ceiling, every dirty room, every wet street and cold phone booth and stale car stakeout, and every dig intended to wound.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Peace’s ‘Red Riding’ quartet of books (‘1974’, ‘1977’, ‘1980’ and ‘1983’ respectively) provides us with an extremely intense, dark, brooding and menacing series of connected stories.

Set against the backdrop of Yorkshire (where Peace grew up) the books have the notorious ‘Yorkshire Ripper’ murders (1975-80) as an underlying, but almost omnipresent theme throughout.

These are hard books about hard people and hard lives with hard themes of murder, corruption, sexual obsession, sadism and then some – they are definitely not for the more faint-hearted reader.

Whilst I haven’t as yet read Peace’s ‘Tokyo’ Trilogy – the ‘Red Riding’ series of books are for me his strongest piece of work to date. Referred to by some as part of the British Noir genre, I think these books transcend those limitations. It doesn’t feel as though Peace is trying to provide us with a British re-write of Chandler or Hammett, but something quite different.

I am not one to specifically enjoy violent novels / novels containing violence per se, or for the sake purely of the violence within. Peace’s ‘Red Riding’ novels don’t glorify the violence portrayed but acknowledge it and don’t in any way shy away from it as an integral (although clearly hateful and terrifying) part of the darkest of social landscapes that he is portraying here. He is effectively holding a mirror up to some of the darkest themes and elements in a society, which although fictional – is frighteningly perhaps not in many ways that far from reality.

Whilst the UK TV adaptation of the ‘Red Riding’ books was very well produced, it somehow lost the edge that the books most definitely have. Worth watching, but as is usually the case – read the books first. All of which are consistently strong and compelling in a very gruesome and frightening way.

[Neil Powell · Rating 5 out of 5]

This series just gets better and better with each chapter. The darkness that infests the characters and locations from the first two books is still here, but the reader is given hope by the introduction of a "hero" in the shape of Peter Hunter. When he begins to investigate the ripper killings, you begin to almost believe that the conspiracy and cover up may be starting to unravel. However, about 150 pages from the end, you quickly realise that its going to end badly again. Can't wait to see how its resolved in the final book.

The writing style is superb, short, sharp phrases and dialogue that crackles with tension. I have to admit I struggled with the "transmissions" at the beginning of each chapter, but the few I did read were disturbing and haunting in equal measure.

Quite simply a wonderful series of novels so far, I'm sure the end will justify the time I've put in

[Cyndi · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an excellent addition to the Red Riding Quartet! The much more likable Peter Hunter as lead gave it a much darker (if you, dear reader can believe in that possibility!!) gives the denoument a much darker wallop!

This juicy, twisty, dank tale is so like a plane crash or a devastating fire...mesmerizing and only palatable at a visceral level, yet somehow you cannot turn away! Stuck in the loop until every ounce of energy is gone!

Taking a short break before #4..gotta rehydrate and increase my protein levels for the home stetch/finish!

[Joy · Rating 5 out of 5]

An honest cop and good man marinate in hopelessness and evil. Best of the series. An incredibly difficult book, but worth it.

[Marcus Wilson · Rating 4 out of 5]

1980 is the third novel in David Peace’s Red Riding Quartet, set in the winter of that year when the Yorkshire Ripper has just murdered his thirteenth victim. Assistant Chief Constable Peter Hunter has been brought in from Manchester police to help catch the killer, but is drawn into a world of bent coppers and sleaze that has defined the series to this point.

Every bit as (if not more more so) bleak as the previous novels, this is an intense read about an investigation carried out amid mounting public anger, set in a time not so long ago where Britain found itself in a bit of a black hole. The Red Riding quartet is quite a considerable literary achievement.

[Kieran McAndrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

The hunt is on as an insane killer stalks the streets of Leeds and Bradford, killing women of evil virtue.

The West Yorkshire Police are overwhelmed and call on resources from the Greater Manchester Police, but the endemic corruption in the West Yorkshire Police means that it appears some officers are more concerned with protecting themselves than the public.

David Peace drags his readers through the sense of gloom and depression which hangs over the narrative as the frustration of the Police rises with each new body.

[Jake · Rating 4 out of 5]

Far and away my favorite of the series, mostly because Pete Hunter felt like a fully realized character and not a dumping ground for male angst. Plus, the plot was easier to follow than 1977 was. Throw in a fascinating conclusion and I'm excited to see what Pearce does for Book Four.

[Louie Gibson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bloody Yorkshire

[M.S. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Or; The One Where It Finally Clicks.

In my review of 1977, I noted that I'd heard Peace's final two Red Riding Quartet novels had a stronger edit to them that eased up on some of the harder to stomach elements (women being anally raped by the protagonist, to be specific). In its place is David Peace at full sail - and it's a bloody magnificent thing.

His style - his rhythmic, poetic style - is such a singular thing. I've not read anything else like it. The prose itself feels like the men, the smoke-stained halls, the barren factories, the snow, the blood, the dead grass, dead women, dead dreams, dead kids, dead future of Yorkshire as Christmas 1980 approaches. Our newest protagonist, Peter Hunter, is by far the easiest to stomach. By all accounts, he's a good man - a good man with noble motivation.

I maintain that these books would greatly benefit from a glossary of characters at the start. I had to keep pulling out my copies of the two previous books to try and remember who the fuck everyone was.

Cannot wait to smash out 1983 and finish this series, but I'm also dreading it. You only get to read each series for the first time once, and I'll miss the Red Riding Quartet.

[Ubik 2.0 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh lord god have mercy All crimes are paid When there's no future (Johnny Rotten, 1977)

Benché scritto con il consueto stile lacerato, ipnotico, ansimante, “1980”, rispetto ai due precedenti episodi della quadrilogia del Red Riding Quartet, dà un’impressione di maggiore solidità ed equilibrio, per quanto l’accostare tali qualità a David Peace possa apparire una specie di paradosso, giacché proprio sull’instabilità e lo squilibrio egli ha costruito il suo marchio inconfondibile di narratore.

Il motivo di questa particolarità risiede soprattutto nella figura del protagonista Peter Hunter, che ha anche lui i suoi bravi fantasmi ed incubi “peaceani” ma, rispetto ai suoi predecessori è maggiormente in grado di costituire un punto di riferimento per il povero lettore in balia delle efferatezze, delle desolazioni e delle fosche tinte con cui è dipinto il West Yorkshire.

Il personaggio Hunter presenta due elementi che ci permettono un minimo (ma proprio un minimo…) di identificabilità col suo io narrante: la personalità, la vita privata, il modo di porsi verso il prossimo sono è vero problematici ma comunque comprensibili (qui, tutto è relativo!); ma soprattutto egli assume, su esplicita investitura dei pezzi grossi, il ruolo di ricostruttore. Ricostruttore delle inchieste che nel corso dei precedenti nove anni hanno fallito la cattura dello “Squartatore” e quindi consentito l’accumularsi di un numero impressionante di vittime, ma anche ricostruttore (per noi lettori) di episodi, introdotti, qua e là ripresi con accenni frammentari nei romanzi precedenti e lasciati dall’autore come tessere sparpagliate di un puzzle indefinibile.

Il dover ripercorrere una quindicina di inchieste condotte dai colleghi con omissioni, errori, disattenzioni, sciatterie grossolane, trascina ovviamente Hunter e la sua squadra in un attrito sempre più insostenibile con un numero crescente di investigatori e l’iniziale diffidenza, che si trasforma poi in ostilità e in una conflittualità talmente esasperata da arrivare alle soglie dello scontro fisico, è l’elemento costitutivo della parte centrale di “1980”.

Intanto, come un atroce contrappunto alla narrazione, i dettagli delle passate “esecuzioni” dello Squartatore sono ripresi in calce ad ognuno dei 21 capitoli da una pagina concepita con la tecnica del flusso di coscienza, dove pensieri del killer, descrizioni tratte da verbali di polizia, sensazioni delle vittime vengono frullate senza soluzioni di continuità né punteggiatura, come se ogni capitolo fosse chiuso, a guisa di sipario, da una nuova secchiata di sangue ed orrori.

Poi, nel prefinale, in barba alle meticolose “ricostruzioni” di Hunter ed alle analisi incrociate da parte degli inquirenti, lo “Squartatore” (o presunto tale, perché con Peace non si sa mai…!), quasi con un colpo di bacchetta magica, viene catturato in circostanze del tutto casuali e banali. Ma poiché lo stile di Peace non accetta la presenza di elementi permanenti di ricomposizione e normalizzazione, ecco nelle ultime 15 pagine smozzicate ulteriori suggestioni, introdotte in modo ambiguo e contraddittorio e forse destinate a dipanarsi nel successivo “1983”.

[Steve · Rating 2 out of 5]

Improves on 1977 in one way with a fully sympathetic protagonist but gets much worse in another as the prose poetry becomes more repetitive and intrusive to the point that it's just tiring to read.

The same phrases, sentences and paragraphs repeated again and again. Up to a point, it's effective but in the latter parts of the book I found myself skipping whole paragraphs because it was the second or third time I'd read that same paragraph on the same page and I'd read it a dozen or more times before. If the device is used to the extent that the reader is skipping passages then it has been over-used.

The ending is somewhat confusing but will presumably be made slightly clearer in the final book (the semi-spoiler question being "who pulled the trigger?"), and the last minute reveal about one character's past involvement in a sleazy business left me asking what were the chances that this person got picked for the team in the first place? If they hadn't (and the conspirators who used it against them had no control over that) then it would have been totally irrelevant. Coincidence at the beginning of a story is okay but right at the end asks for a bit of a leap of faith on the part of the reader.

Whilst the TV adaptations leave out a lot of stuff (including the entire 1977 installment) they feel somehow more complete and satisfying than this re-read is showing the books to be.

[Marc Zeller · Rating 3 out of 5]

Continuing on in the same dark, visceral vein as the first two instalments, but without the same urgency (for me) as it's predecessors. I liked the 'transmissions' on the preceding page of each new chapter, which had a beat poetry-esque feel to them. The various tortured protagonists have felt too similar for me, but it was almost a relief that in this part of the Yorkshire Ripper series the main character at least had a (mostly) positive relationship with his partner. I love Peace's staccato prose, repetition and turn of phrase but appreciate that it's not to everyone's taste. The final third of the book picked up the pace and felt like the prelude to the last of the series, which I'm looking forward to completing, but I'm not in any particular rush to get there.

[Volbet · Rating 4 out of 5]

What happens to moral people in an immoral world? Well, in the in the world David Peace has created those people drown in Shit Creek, contributing to the everlasting overflow of said creek.
And the worst thing that it's a slow, agonizing drowning.


The North of Peace's England is a bleak and grey place. Something that was established in an uncomfortable amount of detail in the two previous books in the Red Riding Quartet. And the world only gets darker when you have a hero you can finally root for. A hero that doesn't deserve that everything around is spoiled and destroyed, yet gets it all the worse due to his moral character.

[Kirk Radziukinas · Rating 2 out of 5]

Really difficult and depressing novel. I read all four of the Red Riding books and I have to say it was a real struggle. The story itself is compelling. Setting a story of crime and police corruption within an actual, historical serial killer investigation intrigued me. The trouble is there is not a single decent human being in any of the four novels. There is no one to care about. If this story was my guide, I'd have to believe that England is a country full of nothing but sociopaths. Also the constant stream of consciousness rumblings from multiple characters was as annoying as it was indecipherable.

[Hex75 · Rating 4 out of 5]

il solito grandissimo peace: nessuna possibilità di speranza, nessuna redenzione, ogni personaggio è comunque corrotto, persino i posti dove ci si trova sanno comunicare soltanto desolazione e sconfitta. peace ti fa cadere nella lenta e inesorabile spirale discendente di peter hunter e non si riesce ad uscirne, non si riesce a mollare la pagina nonostante ci siano non pochi momenti davvero "pesanti". finezza: l'apparizione ad un certo punto di "no escape" dei seeds, ma mi è stato difficile non immaginarla nella versione dei cabaret voltaire, uscita poco prima delle vicende narrate nel libro e per me più adatta a fare da soundtrack alle vicende del libro.

[Theo · Rating 4 out of 5]

A tough read this one. We get some resolution to the threads of the first two books but still you have to wade through descriptions of a lot of violence against women.

[Peter G · Rating 5 out of 5]

Peter Hunter, an assistant chief constable of the greater Manchester force, finds himself tapped on the shoulder to head up a commission whose overt role is to provide advice aimed at assisting the West Yorkshire police in their Yorkshire Ripper investigation, but also with orders from the Home Office to see to look into the corruption and incompetence that the investigation itself has revealed. Already hated by the local officers for two attempts at uncovering corruption in the force earlier, Hunter finds himself stymied and frustrated at each turn as he tries to navigate the same murky morass of events that has been viewed through the now three viewpoints of the previous two books’ narrators.

David Peace, in this book, bucks against type just a bit. We have, in Hunter, a sympathetic main character, we have clear motivation, we have a manageable set of characters, many of whom we’ve already met. In short, Peace has responded to common (in my opinion misguided) criticisms of his earlier works. But we also get a Peace who is now hitting his creative stride: he’s found a way to transform the short overspilling sentences of his earlier two with a new poetic precision - Hunter himself is a creature of restraint and the clearness of his viewpoint, what he confides in the reader and what he choses not to confide, combined with the traumatic effect of being so close to such a source of pure evil, strikes all the more firmly. We also get these hallucinatory excerpts at the start of each chapter; transmissions that merge the Ripper and his victims in one voice. It’s intense all right.

I think we see also more of the pieces sliding into their place. While we’re not likely to find anything too specific just yet, we’re getting a deeper understanding of the chronology that all began with Eddie Dunford’s attempts at uncovering a scoop, and a history of corruption whose roots dig further down under the West Yorkshire soil. As the penultimate part of the quartet, I’m very much hoping for a revelation by the end of the series. But I know too that I’ll be sad when it ends. This book and the one’s previous have so very well drawn me in.

[Gail · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finally beginning to understand these books! Each has a or several, different narrators. 1980 has just one, which helps! Book 3 explains much that has gone before.
All 3 have the interwoven story of the real 5 year reign of terror of Peter Sutcliffe as a background. But they are really a heart breaking exploration of the frailty of human kind. Even those who wish to be ‘good’ do wrong, do bad things. And in a time when systemic corruption was a feature of Police forces all over Britain, when it was perfectly acceptable (in most walks of life) to be racist, homophobic, and sexist - how can a good man overcome temptation?
Again, 1980 has a strong undertone of insanity….our hero protagonist (clay feet revealed in last few pages) haunted by dreams relating to murders revealed in earlier books, the award winning crime journalist now a long term resident in a secure mental hospital after a nail was found in his skull. And there is the sinister churchman and advocate for exorcism of evil spirits.
I don’t particularly like the new device ( ‘transmissions’) to reflect the details of the crimes and the thoughts of the victims and attackers. There’s enough insanity already when one takes into account the hallucinatory dreams that seem to be part of each hero’s downfall, in each book.