Dundee is a city that keeps its secrets well. For centuries it’s been known for its three Js—jute, jam, and journalism—but lately it’s added a fourth: justice, or the lack thereof, as imagined by a wave of gritty Scottish crime writers.
Long the underdog in Scotland’s urban pecking order, Dundee has emerged as an unlikely hub for the literary genre known as Tartan Noir. Crime fiction rooted in Scottish soil, it’s moody, morally grey, and often unforgiving—just like Dundee on a wet Tuesday.
Victorian Shadows and Fog: Malcolm Archibald’s Dundee
If you want to start at the beginning—well, the literary beginning—start with Malcolm Archibald, whose Detective George Watters novels pull readers straight into the soot-caked alleys of 1860s industrial Dundee. These aren’t just historical thrillers; they’re exhaustively researched, noir-drenched explorations of class tension, imperial guilt, and the raw, unvarnished city before gentrification ever dreamt of knocking.
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In The Fireraisers (2019), a mill burns, a sailor dies, and something murky bubbles beneath the surface of Dundee’s shipyards.
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Murdered on the 13th (2020) places a corpse at the tee of a local golf course, its clues tangled with the city’s illicit fight clubs and brothels.
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The Scuttlers (2021) and Not a Pukka Gentleman (2022) bring circus freaks, child kidnappings, and gambling dens into the fold.
What makes Archibald’s work stick isn’t just the crime—it’s the texture. You can smell the coal smoke and hear the clang of the mills. This is crime fiction as time travel, soaked in historical grime.
Dead Puppets and Girls’ Magazines: Catriona McPherson’s Dundee Detour
Dundee only makes a single appearance in Catriona McPherson’s extensive Dandy Gilver mystery series, but it’s unforgettable. In The Mirror Dance (2021), McPherson brings her 1920s sleuth to a city caught between wartime sorrow and industrial staleness. A puppeteer is murdered behind a Punch and Judy stand, his death eerily staged as children sip ginger beer nearby.
Dundee here becomes a stage for something more surreal—less blood-and-guts, more secrets and symbolism. Much of the action unfurls inside Doig’s Publishers, home to fictional girls’ magazines like The Rosie Cheek and The Freckle—saccharine titles with far darker backstories.
If Archibald gives you Dundee with dirt under its nails, McPherson hands you a velvet glove… hiding a dagger.
The Dark Heart of Dundee: Chris Longmuir’s Brutal Modern Thrillers
Leave behind the vintage aesthetic and step into something far bleaker—Chris Longmuir’s Dundee Crime Series, four books of hardboiled modern mayhem starring DS Bill Murphy, a detective up to his eyeballs in serial killers, debt collectors, and internet predators.
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Night Watcher (2013) introduces a killer with a thing for unfaithful women and an axe to grind.
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Dead Wood (2014) veers into gangland territory, with Murphy facing off against loan sharks and rising body counts.
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Missing Believed Dead (2013) goes disturbingly topical, weaving in online grooming and child abduction.
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And Web of Deceit (2022) throws readers headfirst into Dundee’s fictional underworld, where strip clubs and turf wars create collateral damage nobody’s ready for.
Longmuir doesn’t romanticise Dundee. In her hands, the city is raw, violent, and always on edge. But it’s real. The dialogue is sharp, the settings chillingly authentic—and that’s no accident. Longmuir lives nearby, in coastal Angus, and knows this territory intimately.
It’s no wonder Dead Wood won the Dundee International Book Prize. These books don’t just explore the city—they bleed it.
Why Dundee? And Why Now?
There’s something about Dundee that makes it a perfect noir setting. Maybe it’s the legacy of the jute mills—long closed, their shells now housing art installations and artisan bakeries. Maybe it’s the proximity to beauty and bleakness; you’re never far from either the sea or a housing scheme.
Or maybe it’s that Dundee, for all its cultural glow-up—the V&A Museum, the waterfront regeneration, the GQ-branded cool—still feels like a place with shadows. A city that’s lived a few lives. One that still has stories it hasn’t told.
In a literary landscape often dominated by Edinburgh’s polite gothic and Glasgow’s gangland swagger, Dundee’s crime fiction feels distinct. Here, you get desperation without melodrama, mystery without cliché, and just enough black humour to keep you turning the page.
Who’s Killing Dundee? Apparently, Everyone
Tartan Noir has long made room for quirky provincial towns and violent urban sprawls. But Dundee is carving out its own fictional corpse-strewn niche—equal parts literary and lurid, respectful of history but unafraid to get dirty.
In fiction, the city has become:
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A Victorian labyrinth of mill fires, gambling dens, and imperial ghosts.
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A post-war publishing hub masking secrets in children’s magazines.
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A contemporary gangland riddled with debt, death, and internet evil.
It’s jute, jam, and journalism… and now a healthy serving of justifiable homicide.
