Hill was born to a "very ordinary" working-class family—his father was a professional footballer long before sportsmen earned riches—but began reading young. His mother was a great fan of Golden-Age crime writers, and he discovered the genre while fetching her library-books. After National Service (1955-57) and studying English at St Catherine's College, Oxford University (1957-60) he worked as a teacher for many years, rising to Senior Lecturer at Doncaster College of Education. In 1980 he retired from salaried work in order to devote himself full-time to writing.

Hill is best known for his more than 20 novels featuring the Yorkshire detectives Andrew Dalziel (pronounced [diːˈɛl]), Peter Pascoe and Edgar Wield. The characters were used by the BBC in the Dalziel and Pascoe series, in which Dalziel was played by Warren Clarke, Pascoe by Colin Buchanan, and Wield by David Royle. He has also written more than 30 other novels, including five featuring Joe Sixsmith, a black machine operator turned private detective in a fictional Luton. Novels originally published under the pseudonyms of Patrick Ruell, Dick Morland, and Charles Underhill have now appeared under his own name. Hill is also a writer of short stories, and ghost tales.

Hill's novels employ various structural devices, such as presenting parts of the story in non-chronological order, or alternating with sections from a novel supposedly written by Peter's wife, Ellie Pascoe (née Soper). Clues may also be provided in such a way that readers sail past them, only realising at the end how their own assumptions have been exposed. He also frequently selects one writer or one oeuvre to use as a central organizing element of a given novel, such as one novel being a pastiche of Jane Austen's works, or another featuring elements of classical Greek myth. In a different kind of tease, the novella One Small Step (dedicated to "you, dear readers, without whom the writing would be in vain, and to you, still dearer purchasers, without whom the eating would be infrequent",) is set in the future, and deals with the EuroFed Police Commissioner Pascoe and retired Dalziel investigating the first murder on the moon. In another departure from the norm, the duo do not always "get their man", with at least one novel ending with the villain getting away and another strongly implying that while Dalziel and Pascoe are unable to convict anyone, a series of unrelated accidents actually included at least one unprovable instance of murder.

The unusual force of Hill's writing career is suggested by a comment he made in 1986:

I still recall with delight as a teen-ager making the earth-shaking discovery that many of the great “serious novelists,” classical and modern, were as entertaining and interesting as the crime-writers I already loved. But it took another decade of maturation to reverse the equation and understand that many of the crime writers I had decided to grow out of were still as interesting and entertaining as the “serious novelists” I now revered.

It’s not so much Reginald Hill’s productivity that is amazing (although producing novels for nearly four decades is impressive enough); it’s the unassailable quality of his writing that takes the breath away. With barely a misstep over the years, Hill’s chronicling of the abrasive (but, of late, more accommodating) relationship between his mismatched coppers, the no-holds-barred Andy Dalziel and the more nuanced Peter Pascoe, has been non-pareil, with the author’s plotting every inch a match for his spot-on characterisation (and not just of his detective duo -- there have been many sharply observed players introduced into the dramatis personae over the years). Of course, a title like The Death of Dalziel will set alarm bells ringing (as much, one assumes, for Hill’s publishers as for dedicated readers), and there's no denying that putting the life of his corpulent copper on the line ratchets up the tension here considerably.

We’re given a taste of Andy’s corrosive wit as he and Peter Pascoe observe a video shop that’s under surveillance by the security services for its supposed terrorist connections, but (before the reader has time to draw a breath), there is an explosion, and Dalziel is left lying unconscious, bleeding heavily and covered with debris, his body having shielded his partner from the worst of the blast. And for the rest of the book, while Pascoe tracks down the reasons behind the explosion (he doesn’t buy the obvious explanation, i.e., would-be terrorists have blown themselves up by accident), Hill tries something radically different: we are taken into the consciousness of the critically ill Dalziel in his hospital bed. These sections (discursive, alternately funny and sad) are among the most successful in a very successful book. --Barry Forshaw

Praise for 'The Stranger House': 'Grim, gory, fascinating, enraging and entertaining.' Independent 'A mystery novel but far more than that. It's gripping... Hill is wonderful.' The Times 'Exhilarating.' Sunday Times 'You're enthralled by the cunning of the plotting... great.' Observer 'It's a complex, multi-layered plot... it takes a master like Mr Hill to turn it into such an absorbing and atmospheric mystery.' Sunday Telegraph Praise for 'Good Morning, Midnight': 'A real treat. The characters are deftly drawn, the plot constantly delivers surprises and the assured narrative demonstrates again what a terrific writer he is.' Observer 'As absorbing and as enjoyable as anything Hill has produced. The writing is brilliant, witty and erudite.' Evening Standard 'Probably the best living male crime writer in the English-speaking world.' Independent Reviews for 'Good Morning, Midnight': 'Few writers in the genre today have Hill's gifts: formidable intelligence, quick humour, compassion and a prose style that blends elegance and grace.' Donna Leon, Sunday Times 'Reginald Hill's novels are really dances to the music of time, his heroes and villains interconnecting, their stories entwining.' Ian Rankin 'The fertility of Hill's imagination, the range of his power, the sheer quality of his literary style never ceases to delight.' Val McDermid