The Popcorn Interlude # 236: Death Proof

Atrocious editing, scratchy print, abysmal continuity … the implicit message in Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof is that he’s so damn good, the only thing left for him to do is make a bad movie. The problem? Making a knowingly shit movie that references other knowingly shit movies results in a shit movie, if you’ll excuse our merde. Kurt Russell stars as Stuntman Mike, a supposedly charismatic killer who gets his kicks from killing girls in head-on car collisions, all of which is very dramatic and not a little scary, albeit not in the sense that Tarantino intended – Orson Welles reckoned a movie set was the biggest train-set a kid could ever have to play with, and Death Proof reads like some self-loathing kid who can’t get to hang out with the sexy girls, and so decides to kill ’em all. Morbidly fascinating, this irritatingly self-referential outing should be a two-hour suicide note, except that it’s pitched at the geekier end of the 16-year-old drive-in demographic. Someone, anyone, should take Quentin to one side and tell him to get back to what he does best – fleshing out Elmore Leonard novels and ripping off Asian movies. The joke just ain’t funny, man. (no stars) – Michael McGowan

His Satanic Majesty Presents ...

Crime fiction fans in the general vicinity of Belfast might want to toddle along to Norn Iron’s premier crime fiction outlet, No Alibis, on Wednesday September 5th, when Peter Robinson (right) will very probably not be juggling fire and brimstone to promote his latest DCI Banks novel, Friend of the Devil. What’s Banks up to this time? That stench of smouldering quill means the blurb elves have been very busy indeed, to wit:

“When Karen Drew is found sitting in her wheelchair staring out to sea with her throat cut one chilly morning, DI Annie Cabbot, on loan to Eastern Area, gets lumbered with the case. Back in Eastvale, that same Sunday morning, 19-year-old Hayley Daniels is found raped and strangled in the Maze, a tangle of narrow alleys behind Eastvale’s market square, after a drunken night on the town with a group of friends, and DCI Alan Banks is called in. Banks finds suspects galore, while Annie seems to hit a brick wall – until she reaches a breakthrough that spins her case in a shocking and surprising new direction, one that also involves Banks … As Banks and Annie dig into the past to uncover the deeper connections, they find themselves also dealing with the emotional baggage and personal demons of their own relationship.”

No Alibis is expecting a massive turn-out for Robinson’s appearance, so book early and often by contacting Dave at david@noalibis.com. Oh, and anyone expecting a reading from the DUP's God-fearing deputy leader will be sorely disappointed ...

Book ’Em, Danno

Abby Zidle, over at the impeccably titled Hey, There’s A Dead Guy In The Living Room, picks up on an ABC News story about reading habits in the U.S., to wit:

“Did you all see that poll about readers in the U.S.? That 25% of American adults haven’t read a book in the last year? And that the average number of books a single adult reads in a year is four? This is why the publishing industry is forced to cater to blockbusters. It’s simply too dangerous, bottom-line-wise, to trust that brilliant writing will reach enough people. Especially people like this guy, who won’t read fiction. (I’ve got news for you, buddy – lots of movies are fiction, too.)”

Abby? We don’t want to fall out with you, but we’re not so sure that this is a bad news story – when you factor in illiteracy, poverty, access (or otherwise) to books and the time required to read them, 25% of adults not reading a book, and an average of four books per year, aren’t exactly catastrophic figures. Besides, it’s easy for bibliophiles to forget that a book is just one more way of telling a story, and it’s the story that matters, not the method of delivery. Movie fans, theatre-goers, web surfers, tabloid junkies, computer gamers, et al – it’s all about the right words in the right place. If the publishing industry has plateau’d (“The publishing business totalled $35.7 billion in global sales last year, 3 percent more than the previous year, according to the Book Industry Study Group, a trade association. About 3.1 billion books were sold, an increase of less than 1 percent.”), then it’s incumbent on the story-tellers to find a new way of getting through to their potential audience. The customer, after all, is always right. No?

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?” # 2,012: J.D. Rhoades

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...
What crime novel would you most like to have written?
My next one. Seriously, there are so many that I’m just in awe of. If forced to choose, I’d probably say LA Requiem. Tomorrow, though, it might be something else.
Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
I don’t really feel guilty about anything I read. Some people might regard military science fiction, stuff like David Drake and John Ringo, as something I SHOULD feel guilty about, but you know, I just don’t. It’s fun, even when it’s totally absurd.
Most satisfying writing moment?
Cracking open a big cardboard box that the UPS guy just delivered and looking down to see a whole bunch of real live honest-to-God new books in there, each one with my name on it, and thinking, “I did this.” The pleasure is somewhat diminished when the UPS guy leaves the box out under a tree, in the rain, like they did with my promo copies of Safe and Sound. I was not well pleased.
The best Irish crime novel is …?
Well, I haven’t read every Irish crime novel; I don’t know that I’ve even read a fair sample. So, best Irish Crime Novel that I’ve read would have to be Ken Bruen’s The Killing of the Tinkers. That’s the one where I think Ken really hit his stride with the Jack Taylor character.
What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
John Connolly’s The Black Angel. I can see the scenes in the ossuary in my head already. The only problem would be that Connolly’s gorgeous prose wouldn’t make it onto the screen, but there’s enough striking visual imagery that it’ll still work as a movie.
Worst / best thing about being a writer?
The best part is the people I meet: readers, booksellers, and especially other writers I admire. The day I met Ken Bruen, when I was all nervous and star-struck and wondering what the hell I was doing on the same panel with someone that talented, and he got up, hugged me, and told me how much he liked The Devil’s Right Hand … Man, I was, like, “Take me now, Lord, so I can die this happy.” The worst? Well, I think it’s the same for every writer: those moments when you’re staring at a blank page and going, “I got nothing. I can’t do this. I was just fooling myself.”
The pitch for your next novel is …?
It’s about a guy who’s paranoid because everybody IS really out to get him. The title is Breaking Cover.
Who are you reading right now?
I just started Christopher Buckley’s Boomsday, which promises to be as wildly funny as his other books No Way To Treat A First Lady and Thank You For Smoking. Buckley’s one of my favourites, because he’s got the most important personality trait for a satirist: balls of 100% cast iron. This is a man who doesn’t know the meaning of the words “over the top.” I picked up Boomsday because I’d just finished Jon Clinch’s Finn. It was excellent, but very dark, so I felt a craving for a few laughs. Next up is Ken Bruen’s Calibre.
The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Short, sharp, shock.

J.D. Rhoades’ Safe and Sound is available in all good bookshops.

French Kismet In The USA

Call it fate, karma or the law of averages, but good things do occasionally happen to good people – Galley Cat over at Media Bistro has a nice piece on Tana French’s (right) Into The Woods hitting the NYT bestseller list three months after its US publication, to wit:

In these fractious publishing times, normally publishers espouse the belief that if a book doesn’t hit the list within at least the first two weeks of its initial publication, it never will. It’s not an absolute, of course – nothing is – but more and more, publishing resembles the movies in terms of books “opening big” on bestseller lists thanks to pre-orders, co-op and other machinery in place months before publication.
So imagine my surprise at checking the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list dated September 2nd and seeing Irish crime writer Tana French’s debut novel In The Woods sneak in just under the wire, landing at #35 on the extended list. The book was published by Viking on May 17. It had, at least to the best of my knowledge, not been given extra co-op nor garnered some major media attention. Could this be a case of pure word-of-mouth, where readers who genuinely liked the book recommended it enthusiastically to their friends in chain-reaction fashion propelled a first novel to the bestseller lists months after its release date?
Yes and no, as French’s editor Kendra Harpster said in an email late yesterday afternoon. “I do think that word of mouth has played a part here,” she said. “Nearly everyone I mention the book to, even non-publishing people, have heard something about it, which is definitely unusual for a first novel by a non-American.” But Harpster also pointed to a recent mention on NPR by Librarian to the Stars Nancy Pearl and more importantly, to the book’s selection by Barnes & Noble for its Discover New Voices program, which put it into their store promotions beginning early August and running through the end of October. So in the end, media and co-op did play a major role for In The Woods, but that can happen to many books – and still not enough copies will sell to get that “NYT bestseller” tag.

And if all that isn’t lovely enough to give you a fuzzy warm feeling, here’s a few words Tana deigned to bestow on the roving reporter elves before she became a literary superstar. She’s nice like that …

The Popcorn Interlude # 174: Disturbia

Is the world ready for a teen take on Rear Window? Placed under house arrest for decking his teacher, Kale (Shia LaBeouf, right, with Carrie-Ann Moss) spends his summer spying on his neighbours – first the gorgeous newcomer to his neighbourhood, Ashley (Sarah Roemer), then the creepy guy next door (David Morse), who may or may not be a serial killer. An inventive remake, Disturbia owes a huge debt to LaBeouf’s sparky performance – fresh-faced he may be, but LaBeouf (Transformers, A Guide To Recognising Your Saints) has a natural style free of affectations that suggests he’s a serious prospect for the future. Director DJ Caruso (a veteran helmer of TV’s The Shield) ratchets up the tension gradually, leaving plenty of time for the romance between Kale and Ashley to blossom, and even if the final third recycles overly familiar slasher-horror tropes, this is still a cut above the usual teen fare. ****- Michael McGowan

Some Thoughts On The Switching Of Horses Mid-Stream

The lovely people at Penguin sent us an ARC of the up-coming Dick Francis novel, Dead Heat, although the reviewer elves noted a rather unusual development in the accompanying press release, to wit:

“ … And more than ever there is a special twist. With forty novels under his belt, Dick feels that the time has come to begin handing over the family business. Felix, the younger of Dick’s two sons, has long been involved with managing Dick’s many publishing commitments and has helped with the research for several previous novels, not least with Twice Shy which drew on Felix’s experiences both as a physics teacher and as a marksman. Felix, in Dead Heat, has for the first time taken a central role in the writing of the book. Over the last year, Dick and Felix have worked closely together, developing plot and character details for this novel, and hopefully many more to come. The result is the searing intrigue-filled blockbuster, Dead Heat, which heralds a new era for the Grand Master of thriller writing.”

Erm, exqueeze us? Shouldn’t that read, “ … a new era for the son of the Grand Master of thriller writing”? And while we’re asking questions ... Is there a danger here that Penguin are taking reader / brand loyalty a step too far? Since when has writing novels been considered ‘a family business’? Isn’t the joy of reading all about immersing yourself in a world created by the unique mind of a writer? Or are we just being naïve / pedantic / obtuse (delete as applicable) here? Answers on the back of €20 book tokens to the usual address, please.

Lunch Boxes Stripped Of Everything Except Fruit

Peter Rozovsky over at Detectives Beyond Borders is currently plugging one of our favourite reads of the year so far, Eoin Colfer’s Half Moon Investigations, the opening paragraph of which runneth thusly:

My name is Moon. Fletcher Moon. And I’m a private detective. In my twelve years on this spinning ball we call Earth, I’ve seen a lot of things normal people never see. I’ve seen lunch boxes stripped of everything except fruit. I’ve seen counterfeit homework networks that operated in five counties, and I’ve seen truckloads of candy taken from babies.

Quoth Peter:

"A child who reads that may just develop an affectionate attachment to crime fiction. Adults may like it, too. I do."

Ditto. Quoth the Crime Always Pays reviewing elves:

"Colfer is obviously a fan of Chandler et al, and he has distilled essence of the hardboiled style here, with the emphasis very much on style. Writers will read it and weep; less self-conscious readers will be wearing a smile throughout."

Just don’t get the elves started on his Artemis Fowl books. We’ll be here all night …

Nobody Move, This Is A Review: The Unquiet by John Connolly

The Unquiet was my first foray into John Connolly territory, and while it might not be the ideal novel to get started on due to all the extant back history of PI Charlie Parker and his coterie of associates, the plunge was well worth the initial icy splash. With the deaths of his first wife and child haunting him, Parker is called to the Maine home of Rebecca Clay, whose father, Daniel Clay, a child psychiatrist who worked at a centre for abused children, vanished seven years earlier in the midst of a sexual abuse scandal. Several of his patients had, whether by coincidence or not, been victims of an organised child sex abuse ring whilst under his care. The lapse of time since Dr Clay’s disappearance, by suicide, murder or a voluntary change of identity, means that he’s been declared legally dead by his daughter, Rebecca, but she’s being harassed by Merrick the Revenger, a man fresh out of prison who insists that he has unfinished business with Clay and is convinced that Rebecca knows more about his whereabouts than she’d care to admit. Ghosts populate the novel at every turn, on both a literal and allegorical level – Parker’s personal ghosts dog him throughout the investigation; meanwhile, the shadows and wraiths of the case itself and of the society that Parker dissects - the ‘Hollow Men’, as well as the ‘Unquiet’ of the title – hum urgently through the narrative right to its chilling close. A delightfully unsettling read.– Claire Coughlan

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?” # 193: Michael Carroll

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...
What crime novel would you most like to have written?
The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie. A great romp, lots of fun, some great jokes and really nice twists. It’s more of a spy thriller than a typical crime novel but it’s so good I just had to mention it. It’s also one of the very few cases in which a comedian has written a book that’s actually readable.
Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
Old Marvel comics: I’ve got the first forty years of Amazing Spider-Man, The Avengers, Fantastic Four and X-Men on DVD Rom (actual bought copies from shops - none of this bootleg stuff for me!). A lot of the early tales are silly, overblown and overwritten, but they’re presented with such fun and gusto that they’re tremendously entertaining.
Most satisfying writing moment?
Typing “The End” on the last day of every first draft. Even though the book still has a long way to go, getting the first draft completed always feels a major achievement. Reality kicks in a few days later when I go back over it with my Ruthless Red Pen.
The best Irish crime novel is …?
I really enjoyed Jim Lusby’s A Waste of Shame. It’s the sort of book that makes me wish I had a time-machine and fewer scruples.
What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
Black Angel by John Connolly is very filmable. I can see it as a vehicle for someone like Ridley Scott. In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t already been made.
Worst / best thing about being a writer?
Best thing: Being able to work from home. Worst thing: Constantly receiving phone calls from well-meaning friends and relatives who mistakenly believe I want to know how successful my peers are. “Did you see Darren Colfer was in the paper again? He’s sold a short story for eighteen billion dollars and it’s going to be made into a big-budget movie! And he’s bought another island! And he’s younger than you are! Isn’t that great?” Yes. It’s bloody marvellous. Now please leave me in peace to eat my hearty lunch of dry yellow-pack noodles straight out of the packet.
The pitch for your next novel is …?
Top secret. I never reveal anything about upcoming work until I’ve actually written it (because if I tell someone then I've gotten it out of my system and that diminishes the impetus to write). Besides, I’ve got four different ideas I’m currently developing. I know that’s usually a writer’s euphemism for “I’ve done nothing but play Solitaire on my computer for the past six months”, but I promise that this time it’s true.
Who are you reading right now?
Well, I could pretend that I’m reading something worthy by some obscure dead nineteenth-century writer, but I’m not. I'm re-reading Neil Gaiman’s Sandman graphic novels, and I’m about to embark on a lengthy voyage through Janet Evanovich’s entire Stephanie Plum series (if my sister ever gives them back).
The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
After MUCH deliberation, I’ve concluded that the only three words that accurate describe my writing are: “By Michael Carroll”. Sorry. I was tempted to come over all humble and put “could be better” or something like that, but I’m not quite that mad.

Michael Carroll’s The New Heroes: Absolute Power is available in all good bookshops

The Monday Review

Some tasty thriller action to whet your appetite, folks: “Scott Mariani’s debut novel The Fulcanelli Manuscript turns out to be a sprightly little thriller with action on every page … a brisk and enjoyable enough read and suggests that Scott Mariani might well be an author to watch out for,” says Sharon Wheeler over at Reviewing the Evidence … We haven’t mentioned Eoin Colfer for a week or two, but blog-title-of-the-week Stardust Asylum remedies that with a big-up for Artemis Fowl and The Lost Colony: “This book was superbly written. Artemis has grown into a charming mixture of criminal mastermind and teenager with a heart of gold.” Meanwhile, some inky-fingered chancer called Declan Burke has inveigled his way into the Euro Crime reviewing list, and likes Sylvester Young’s up-coming Sleeping Dogs Lie, to wit: “A punchy, cynical and relentlessly political novel, Sleeping Dogs Lie is as courageous a statement of intent as it is a gripping thriller.” Couldn’t have put it better ourselves … The TLS is always a model of restraint, even when reviewing Eoin McNamee’s stonking thriller 12:23: “As people who stand to profit by witnessing a death, McNamee’s characters surpass the traditional villains of the piece, the paparazzi, in moral sordidness,” proclaims Nicholas Cullen through stiff upper and lower lips … Over at Fantasy Book Spot, Brian Lindenmuth is a tad more expressive about Ken Bruen’s American Skin, to wit: “It’s quite likely that no one, God, the fates and Bruen included are harder on his characters then they are themselves. They are the wardens of their own Hell.” Blimey! The Barnes & Noble review, via Amazon.com, is no less impressed: “Bruen’s latest is a visceral, visionary masterwork; underneath all the graphic bloodshed and drug-induced chaos, however, are deeply profound, darkly poetic themes … that will surely affect everyone who reads this extraordinary and truly unforgettable book. An instant noir cult classic – bottle of Jameson not included,” says Paul Goat Allen … As for Sir Kenneth of Bruen’s Ammunition, Libre-Muncher at Book Crossing gives it four thumbs aloft: “If you liked any of Mr. Bruen’s previous books, you will like this one as well. I know that I am addicted to these books myself.” … Walter Keady’s The Dowry belatedly beeped Gail’s jeep over at the Daily Dose on Powell’s Books, to wit: “Written with an obvious delight in the many twists and turns of life and of human nature, reading this ‘novel of Ireland’ is like a cosy gossip with an old friend.” Which is nice … Back to Amazon.com for the Bookmarks Magazine review of Benjamin Black’s Christine Falls: “Readers expecting a fast-paced crime novel may initially be surprised by Banville’s slow, deliberate rendering of the plot and the complex characters – but they will certainly look forward to the next novel in this projected series.” Hurrah! And what did you think of Christine Falls, O Meen of Meen’s Reading Journal fame? “The idea for the story was very good, but the writing too bland, distant and analyzing to truly grab me.” Boo … Finally, Troy Taylor sends up more than a few balloons on behalf of John Connolly over at his MySpace Blog, concluding thusly: “If you have never read any of Connolly’s books, you are missing on a rare talent. Connolly is an Irish writer who somehow manages to capture Maine and New England like a native, which enhances the books rather than detracts from them. You can feel the cool, crisp air of the region as you turn the pages … In closing, all that I can say is you don’t want to miss out on some of the best books that I have ever had the privilege to read. I don’t make recommendations lightly and if you want to read something truly unique and really immerse yourself into a weird and violent world, don’t miss out on John Connolly’s Charlie Parker series.” And there you have it, folks – conclusive proof, as if it were needed, that John Connolly is now blogging under the nom-de-plume ‘Troy Taylor’. For shame, sir ...

The Curious Case Of The Existential Lizard

It being Monday, you may be more in need of a giggle or two than usual. Allow us to point you in the direction of Roger Gregg’s Crazy Dog Audio Theatre, a place where the line between genius and lunacy has never been so fine. Our favourites are the Bill Lizard stories (Tread Softly, Bill Lizard; Time Out for Bill Lizard; The Apocalypse of Bill Lizard), which come on like Sam Spade trapped in an episode of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, as written by Flann O’Brien. Take The Apocalypse, for example:

Bill Lizard, the maladjusted detective in the two-tone shoes, and his partner Cyril the Pooka are hired by the Unspeakable to search the Unknowable to find the Unthinkable. Does the world end? What is after the After Life? Will we need shoes in heaven?

Cyril the Pooka, incidentally, is an invisible six-foot rabbit who aids and abets Bill in his attempts to escape a parallel universe in which you can count on at least seven weird things happening before breakfast. You can download the first episode of Apocalypse here, although you may want to don the whale-bone corset now, before your sides start splitting …

Siobhan Dowd RIP

A very sad day, people – today we learned that Siobhan Dowd (right), the author of A Swift Pure Cry and The London Eye Mystery, died on Tuesday after a long struggle with breast cancer. The news came as something of a shock, as we only knew her as a warm, bubbly and funny email buddy, and while she mentioned ‘a touch of exhaustion’ in the wake of the publication of The London Eye Mystery – the novel which had The Times tipping her as a ‘future literary lion’ – she never once complained of illness. Gara LaMarche knew her much, much better than we, to wit:

“I first met Siobhan in 1988 when I was running the Freedom-to-Write Program for PEN American Centre and she was running the International Writers-in-Prison Committee for International PEN in London. Among other things, she kept PEN’s ‘census’ of imprisoned writers on whose behalf members ran campaigns. In those days before the end of the Cold War, there were many hundreds of such writers. I enjoyed our long-distance relationship, and sensed that for various reasons Siobhan was restless for change and challenge, and when I moved on from PEN to Human Rights Watch in 1990, I suggested she move to the U.S. to take over my job, and the switch was made. She was a terrific success in her seven years here, and made many friends who are among the many grieving today. Back in England, she did children’s rights work, edited a book of prison writing, and started writing her own fiction. I read her first book, A Swift Pure Cry, last year. Though it was written for young adults, I thought it was a gem that deserved a wider audience. Perhaps because she was writing against time, given her diagnosis, she was extraordinarily prolific in the last few years, publishing The London Eye Mystery in June and having finished two more novels with a fifth underway at the time of her death.”

Siobhan Dowd, 1960-2007, RIP.

The Queen of Harts

A busy week for the CAP roving reporter elves – not only did they meet Brian McGilloway, they also bumped into Erin Hart (right), of Lake of Sorrows fame, whilst canoodling in the Cobblestones pub with Critical Mick (that’s the elves who were canoodling with Generalissimo Critical, not Erin). So, how lovely was she? Lovelier than Forever Changes-era Love doing a cover version of Endless Love doesn’t even start to describe it. “So what’s happening with the follow-up to Lake of Sorrows, Erin?” burbled the elves. Quoth Erin:

“Still writing away, trying to make this new book really worth the wait. The current working title is False Mermaid, and it’s the third in the series, which means Nora Gavin will be travelling back to Saint Paul to re-open her sister’s unsolved murder, leaving Cormac to make amends with his ailing father back in Ireland. I’m anxious to finish because I can’t wait to see how it turns out. You’ll be the first to know when there’s cause for celebration!”

Actually, the elves got totally scundered on the Cobblestones’ patented Groovy Good-Vibe Enhancer and not only forgot every word said during the entire night, but ended up in a bout of bare-knuckle fisticuffs with a bevy of belly-dancing dwarves, thus ending up in Big Chokey for the night. So we had to steal the above quote from Erin’s interweb mail-out thingagummy. Still, it can’t be Pulitzer prizes every week, right?

Yanks, Paddies And Micks. (Well, One Mick. But He’s Generally Plenty)

Dublin Noir, the series of Dublin-based short stories edited by Ken Bruen, has received mixed reactions since its publication last year, with some Irish scribblers harrumphing loudly at the skewed Yank-to-Paddy ratio. Mind you, the pressure brought out the best in Eoin Colfer, in ‘Waiting for PJ’, to wit:

Little Mike hadn’t the strength to laugh. “I hope you lie better than you tell the truth. Jesus, that was shite. He’ll ride us both with the leg of the table if you tell him that.”

Erm, ‘the leg of the table’? Cheers for the mental image, Eoin. Anyhoo, Critical Mick has applied his unique brand of appraisal to Dublin Noir, concluding thusly:

“Critical Mick says: Ken Bruen has done a deadly job of beating these nineteen dodgy chancers across the knees with tire irons until they coughed up nineteen wicked, enraged original stories. Though few are superstars of today’s Irish crime fiction spree, Dublin Noir introduces hot talent and captures a shade of what Dublin’s darker side is like.”

And if it’s good enough for Critical Mick, it’s good enough for us. He is the yin to our yang, after all. Yes, yes, we said ‘yang’ …

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?” # 173: Donna Moore

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...
What crime novel would you most like to have written?
Has to be Donald Westlake’s The Hot Rock. I love caper novels and that’s a classic that just makes me laugh every time I read it (which is about once a year).
Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
That’s a tough one because for me no reading is a guilty pleasure – if I don’t have a book handy in the loo I’ll read the back of the toilet roll pack (did you know, by the way, that there are an average of 241 sheets in a roll of Andrex and the average total roll-length is 29.76m?). Most of my guilty pleasures come in the form of TV. I was off work for a few weeks recently with a chipped bone in my ankle and I spent all morning watching all the How To Get Rid Of The Crap In Your Attic programmes. I can now spot a Victorian cake-stand at 20 paces.
Most satisfying writing moment?
Winning The Lefty for most humourous crime novel of 2006. I still can’t believe it. My biggest regret though is not thinking for one moment that I would win and hence not preparing a speech. Apparently (and I say apparently because I have no clue what I said) it was the most ridiculous (but, thankfully, short) acceptance speech imaginable.
The best Irish crime novel is …?
One of Ken Bruen’s Jack Taylor series. Either The Guards because it’s the first in the series and I was so excited when I discovered it, or The Dramatist even though it made me cry at Prestwick airport and they sent security to see if I was OK.
What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
See previous answer. I’d love to see the Jack Taylor series on either the big or the small screen.
Worst / best thing about being a writer?
Best ... so many things – I love it when I have an idea for a character and sit and write a scene and it just all flows out. The encouragement and support of fellow crime writers is heart-warming. It’s all been great fun. The worst – thinking that everything I write is a big pile of steaming shite (can I say that? If not, change it to something less odoriferous).
The pitch for your next novel is …?
Two elderly ex-hookers turned con artists on the run from an Australian hitman are hiding out in Glasgow, fleecing Scotland’s rich and famous out of their hard-earned cash. They hatch a plan to steal a pair of jewel encrusted shih-tzu dogs from a Glasgow museum. Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones.
Who are you reading right now?
Most recently finished was Kevin Wignall’s Who Is Conrad Hirst?, which is about a hitman who has decided to get out of the business. To do so, he thinks the best way is to kill his way out – disposing of the few people who know about him. A wonderful book – a look at the meaning and value of life to someone who is existing, rather than living. Kevin Wignall’s writing gets better and better. Spare, but full of depth and feeling. If this doesn’t propel him into the big time I’ll be exceedingly surprised. It’s one of those satisfyingly perfect books that all way through you are on edge wondering how it’s all going to pan out, and then when you’ve finished it’s so much more than you anticipated.
The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Well, when my mum read the first chapter of my book, my dad told me she wandered around the house shaking her head and muttering “Weird, weird, weird. My daughter is weird.” So I think I will just go with that – weird, weird, weird.

Donna Moore’s Go To Helena Handbasket is available in all good bookshops

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be … Oh.

One of Ireland’s foremost judges, Justice Adrian Hardiman, had a fascinating piece in The Dubliner last year on Ulysses as a murder mystery, which we really meant to bring to your attention at the time. But then HR Pufnstuf emerged from the dungeon with his hookah cranked up to 11 and everything got a bit blurry for a month or seven. Still, better late than never, eh? Take it away, Mr Justice Hardiman, sir …

"Ulysses is little thought of as a murder story, or even as a story with murders in it. But sudden and violent deaths abound in the book – deaths by drowning, hanging, stabbing, bludgeoning, poisoning. Best of all, for Joyce, were deaths of the most mysterious sort where murder, suicide and accident competed inconclusively for recognition as the cause, leaving guilt not quite proven or innocence more than a little tarnished.
The first Bloomsday in June 1904 fell right in the middle of what George Orwell called the ‘golden age of English murder’. Ireland, too, contributed some classic cases. Arsenic and strychnine were the instruments of choice for the genteel killers of those days, often family doctors or respectable ladies. The notorious poisoners Frederick Seddon and Mrs. Maybrick claim their place in Ulysses. That lady, like Parnell himself, was a client of the great Irish barrister Sir Charles Russell Q.C. who felt she had been wrongly convicted of murdering her hypochondriac husband by a jury outraged at the fact that she had taken a lover. Mrs. Maybrick features in Molly Bloom’s soliloquy which ends Ulysses: unlike Russell, she had no doubt of Mrs. Maybrick’s guilt, but more than a sneaking sympathy for her.
But our concern is with cases closer to home, each a sensation in the Dublin of its day ..."

For the full text of the piece, jump over to The Dubliner’s archives. Bloomin’ marvellous, it is …

Go Key West, Young Man

Michael Haskins’ (right) tag over at Crime Space is ‘Irelands32’, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason to give him a big-up on Crime Always Pays, the protagonist of his upcoming novel, Chasin’ The Wind (due in March ’08), goes by the more-Irish-than-soft-rain name of Liam ‘Mad Mick’ Murphy. So what’s the deal with Chasin’ The Wind? Quoth Michael:

“Chasin’ The Wind nails the colourful and often violent action in both Key West, Florida, and Havana, Cuba. It navigates corruption and small town politics in the southernmost city of the United States. It bumps into a scheme to topple Cuba’s communist government and throws Cuban exiles and military deserters, neurotic federal agents, plus a few unique Key Westers, into a brew that promises international repercussions. When officials sworn to uphold the law try to subvert it in Key West, journalist Liam Michael “Mad Mick” Murphy is compelled to react. He and a ragtag group of citizens confront failed justice, but are left with only revenge as an option – except, perhaps, a renegade deal with the Cuban government. Dodging treachery, Mad Mick Murphy goes headlong toward treason, dragging his team of ‘typical’ islanders deeper into the mess they wanted to eliminate.”

For more on Chasin’ The Wind, and an insight into the struggle a debut writer goes through to see his or her novel in print, sail on over to Michael’s blog. And tell him we sent you, and that our t-shirt size is x-large … Meanwhile, you can read Chapter One here. No, don’t thank us, we’re only in it for an invite to the launch party in Key West. And a free t-shirt.

This Week We’re Reading … Who Is Conrad Hirst? and The Bloomsday Dead

Kevin Wignall’s up-coming Who Is Conrad Hirst? (to be published on November 13) is being flagged as a Jason Bourne-style thriller, but while the eponymous anti-hero is a frighteningly proficient hitman, Wignall’s creation is a far more philosophical character – indeed, the whole point of the exercise is for Conrad to answer the question posed in the title. That’s not to say there isn’t plenty of action, because there is, but the page-turning pace is leavened by a more satisfying quality of self-analysis than is generally to be found in straightforward thrillers. Powerful stuff from the author of For The Dogs, and there’s a strong chance it’ll propel him into the big leagues. Meanwhile, The Bloomsday Dead concludes Adrian McKinty’s ‘Dead’ trilogy, with the indestructible Michael Forsythe back home in Ireland to conduct a search for the kidnapped daughter of flame-haired Bridget, Forsythe’s femme fatale nemesis from the trilogy’s opener, Dead I Well May Be. With the plot unfolding over the space of one day – June 16, aka Bloomsday, which honours the hero of James Joyce’s Ulysses – the pace is frantic from the get-go, charging along in an adrenaline frenzy as Michael takes on anyone from Peruvian hitmen to the IRA as he seeks closure on the life he has been forced to live for the last decade. As always with McKinty, the writing is of a superior quality, the graphically etched outbursts of violence shot through with a quirky poetry that mines a particularly dark seam of humour. The only disappointment? That this is touted as the final Forsythe novel. Say it ain’t so, Joe, sorry, Adrian …

From Potter’s Field

Hmmm. Seems we might have been a tad unfair to Mr Books To The Ceiling last week, when we gently rubbished his theory that John Banville turned to writing crime because it was the final and greatest challenge to his Saturn-sized intellect. For lo! T’would appear that one JK Rowling (right) – you may have heard of her Barry Trotter books – is now planning the definitive Scottish crime novel. Quoth the Sunday Times:

Speaking to a reporter at the Edinburgh book festival, [Ian] Rankin told how his wife Miranda had seen Rowling “scribbling away in a cafe recently”. “My wife spotted her writing her Edinburgh criminal detective novel,” he said. He declined to elaborate on how he knew about Rowling’s new direction, but conceded he had not discussed it personally with her. […] Rankin … said her experience of writing fantasy adventure would help with crime fiction. “Her process is classic crime writing - the set-up, the red herrings, the characters who change as they are revealed, the twists and turns, and finally the big line-up at the end.”

It looks like circumstantial evidence to us, folks, but Rankin appears to have a sure touch when it comes to understanding his female peers, especially the bloodthirsty lesbian ones. The clincher? Rowling’s Mr 25% denies all knowledge of a crime novel in the pipeline. An agent playing coy? Now there’s a mystery begging to be unravelled …

Better The Devlin You Know

One of the Crime Always Pays roving reporter elves tracked down Brian McGilloway (right) recently, and was struck by how much of himself McGilloway appears to have invested in Borderlands’ family- man protagonist, DI Devlin. Quoth Brian:

“Well, the stereotype, the cliché, is the alcoholic, divorced loner who’s a bit of a maverick and resents authority. And I’m sure there’s some precedent, given the pressures of being a Guard or a policeman or whatever. At the same time, there must be happily married policemen. And I like the idea that Devlin is trying to balance being a father and a husband with being a police officer. I suppose it’s because those were the things that concerned me. I’m married with two young children, and I wrote Borderlands around the time the first child was born. So that obviously was a personal issue … At the start, when [Devlin] sees the girl lying in the snow, naked, his reaction is to put his coat over her to keep her warm, even though she’s dead. And that’s a natural, human thing to do, instead of standing around speaking very dispassionately about it. I can understand why policemen are portrayed that way, why they keep a distance, because they’d go mad otherwise. But there has to be some degree of humanity involved.”

Humanity in crime fiction? These upstart crime writers are losing the run of themselves and no mistake. Next thing you know they’ll be wanting to win literary prizes and suchlike …

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?” # 534: Peter Tremayne

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...
What crime novel would you most like to have written?
Il nome della rosa (The Name of the Rose) by Umberto Eco (1980).
Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
Edgar Wallace, E.C. Vivian and Leslie Charteris.
Most satisfying writing moment?
Looking at my royalty statements.
The best Irish crime novel is …?
One by Peter Tremayne! (If he’s excluded, I’d choose Ken Bruen’s Priest).
What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
One by Peter Tremayne! (and if he’s excluded again then I'll stick up for Ken once more).
Worst / best thing about being a writer?
The worst thing is doing the basic work for my accountant to approve and the best thing is receiving the royalty statements.
The pitch for your next novel is …?
It’s Dancing With Demons and the 17th in the Sister Fidelma series. She’s tackling solving the murder of the High King of Ireland in Tara in AD 670, an actual historical event.
Who are you reading right now?
Dáibhí Ó Cróinín - An Cúigiú Díochlaonadh (The Fifth Declension), Cló Iar-Connachta (1994) - with the aid of a dictionary!
The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Characters, background, plot!

Peter Tremayne’s Dancing With Demons is published on September 6

The Monday Review

A pithy beginning to this week’s round-up: “Dark stuff, but extremely entertaining,” reckons the Sac Bee’s Allen Pierleoni of Ken Bruen’s Ammunition, while Eric at Genre Fiction Addiction concurs: “Ammunition doesn’t break any new ground either in the Brant series or for Bruen. Do I care? Not really. I loved it anyhow.” Meanwhile, there’s a host of reviews already posted on Jason Starr’s interweb page for the up-coming Slide, which he co-wrote with Bruen. Booklist’s verdict? “Bruen and Starr have concocted a wild … and very funny ode to mindless violence, drugs, down-and-dirty sex, and self-delusion … There’s good reason to believe Bruen and Starr had as much fun writing Slide as crime fans will have reading it.” Which is nice … Euro Crime’s Maxine Clarke goes in for Gene Kerrigan’s latest in a big way: “This is a wonderful book, superbly well written. The promise of Kerrigan’s previous book, Little Criminals, is more than fulfilled in this elegiac novel of corruption in Ireland … I loved everything about this book. The Midnight Choir is truly bleak, at times violent and disturbing, but always brilliant.” Over at Reviewing the Evidence, Sharon Wheeler likes Nick Stone’s King of Swords, to wit: “Stone’s writing is sharp, vivid and utterly impossible to get out of your mind … he can also create the most stunningly memorable characters that I guarantee you will never be able to forget … if you thought the marvellous George Pelecanos was out there by himself as the king of race-ridden US cities and of crime fiction that drilled to the heart of society, think again. Stone is a magnificent talent.” Yummy … Meanwhile, there was a sudden outbreak of Christine Falls reviews this week, beginning with Iain Rowan over at Litorally: “It’s always interesting to see how a writer from outside the genre approaches things. In Banville’s case, he does it fantastically well: this is one of the best crime novels I’ve read in the last couple of years. There’s very little about it which isn’t excellent – a compelling plot, a wonderfully described setting of Dublin and Boston in the fifties, a memorable protagonist and supporting cast, and an at times very moving exploration of emotion and the human heart.” Over at The Book Bag, Sue Magee is very much in agreement: “The plot is a real page-turner. I read the book in the course of a day, not because I had the time, but because I simply had to know what happened next. There’s real pace, accompanied by the imagery which so characterises Banville’s mainstream writing. It’s the sort of book which you wish you hadn’t read so that you might still have the pleasure of discovering it. If you enjoy Ian Rankin and his Inspector John Rebus books then you should buy this book. I wouldn’t even want to say that Rankin still has the edge: this book is that good. He’s better than Michael Dibdin, even at his best. I’m afraid other crime writers pale into insignificance.” Crikey! Mind you, Glenn Harper at International Noir is a tad more circumspect: “It’s a tightly packed, involving, beautifully written, and somehow not quite adequate crime novel. Banville’s brother Vincent wrote a few detective stories that satisfy as such, though perhaps without the literary heft of the Benjamin Black tome … I’m looking forward to the next Quirke book … partly to see if he’s more tightly in control of the structures that he’s borrowing from the nature and history of the crime novel in future efforts.” Back to Sharon Wheeler at Reviewing the Evidence, for her verdict on Glenn Meade’s The Devil’s Disciple: “The whole book strains credulity, but it’s a definitely a page-turner. There’s a gothic horror feel to it, although it does at times threaten to teeter into romantic suspense territory.” Glenn Meade a romantic? Who’d a thunk it, eh? Onwards for the inevitable Eoin Colfer / Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony big-up, to wit: “The overall plot is somewhat irrelevant, as, much like, say the James Bond series, it’s all about the action and the dialogue. If you are looking for a breezy series that has action and excitement, and is ultimately not too violent, or scary or too full of adult themes, you’ll be hard pressed to do better than this. Start from the beginning of the series and work your way through; careful readers are rewarded,” reckons Paul at I Just Read About That. Meanwhile, over at the Sunday Trib, Tom Widger is of the opinion that Arlene Hunt’s Missing Presumed Dead is a winner: “An escalating thriller …” he coos, “ … a remarkably prescient read.” Finally, the In The Woods bandwagon shows no signs of slackening pace, with Glenn Harper – a busy lad this week – at International Noir suggesting that, “While there is a sophisticated structure underlying the book, I didn’t get the sense that it was condescending to the genre … I liked the book much more than I anticipated, and followed it closely through a long-ish 400+ pages without it seeming too long.” Over at our old friends Reviewing the Evidence, Sharon Katz is even more enthusiastic: “In The Woods is author Tana French’s first book and it is wonderful … When this well over 400-page book ended I was left wanting more. A wonderful thriller and top-notch first book, [it] should not be missed.” Lovely, lovely, lovely ...

The Unbearable Likeness Of Being

The word around the pastry table is that the rather sultry Tana French (right) is whipping up a tasty dessert to complement her meaty debut In The Woods. Quoth Glenn Harper of International Noir:

“Unlikely as it may seem (to anyone who has read Irish writer Tana French’s In the Woods), French is working on a sequel or maybe a series. The next volume, titled The Likeness, is due out next spring, featuring the female partner (Cassie) of Ryan, the detective narrator of In the Woods. Cassie has her own dark past (to match Ryan’s childhood secrets), both in her college years and in her undercover work prior to joining the fictional murder squad. I have to say I’m intrigued ...”

‘The Likeness’, eh? Could the title be a tongue-in-cheek nod to all those writers who simply replicate the formula of their first success? Only time, that notoriously doity rat, will tell …

The Embiggened O # 497: Yep, It’s The All-Important Euro Crime Hup-Ya

And there was us thinking all the, erm, fuss had died down. But lo! Euro Crime has taken it upon itself to review our humble offering, The Big O, in the process flabbering our gast thusly:

The Big O has a wonderfully tight and convoluted plot that plays out like a movie … It’s very cleverly done. The action is fast paced and leaves the reader breathless – partly because the book is split into short scenes, each told from the point of view of a different character. Each character has a totally different voice and they are all completely believable. The bad guys are endearing, the good guys are wicked. All of them made me smile. The writing sparkles and some of the dialogue is hilarious. A kidnap caper that is very funny, exhilarating, violent and snappy. A cheeky little feel-good book that will make me smile for months to come whenever I think of it. A hell of a lot of fun.

Which is nice. If you’re wondering what all the, erm, fuss is about, jump over to the Hag’s Head Press interweb thingy for Chapter One. And then tell us via the comment box exactly why Euro Crime got it wrong …

Baby, You’re A Starr

So much for the idea of the writer as an alienated misanthrope venting poisonous spleen on an indifferent world. Interviewed over at Things I’d Rather Be Doing, Sir Kenneth of Bruen reckons the process of co-writing with Jason Starr on the up-coming Slide (October 2) is pretty much jam at this stage, to wit:

“It was actually easier [than Bust] because we can now literally anticipate where the other is going to go, we have the same vision, dark sense of humour, it’s like writing with a psychic twin, though Jason might say … psycho! We never had one disagreement and mainly, we have great fun. We’re working on book three and falling over each other with ideas … but we’re totally in sync now, it’s uncanny how we’ve meshed our writing so completely.”

Which is nice. Next week: John Banville on how JD Salinger shared his Liquorice All-Sorts while co-authoring the ‘darkly allegorical’ Flopsy And Cottontail Go To The Mall II: This Time It’s Personal.

Brought To Book # 132: KT McCaffrey on Gerard Murphy’s Death Without Trace

Back in 2005, Death Without Trace (Collins Press) seemed to slip beneath the radar as though in keeping with the title. A shame if you missed it, because Murphy’s opus represents superior crime fiction worthy of a wide audience. The author, a lecturer at the institute of technology in Carlow, has created an instantly appealing part-time detective. Mike Madigan, whose day job is that of brewery foreman (a gumshoe in a brewery – only in Ireland) has recently separated from wife Sally but remains plagued by erectile memories, bad dreams and erotic nightmares from his time with her. With character names like Madigan and Philip Marlow (superintendent at the local cop shop), it’ll come as no surprise that the author is a disciple of the American rather than British style of crime fiction. The action, set in Dublin, is written very much in the Chandleresque tradition and is peppered with wise-cracking one-liners that are equal to the best you’ll find in this genre. The fast-paced prose never flags, delivering a feast of bon mots such as:

- Girls in frilly dresses cleaned the tables like the semi-innocuous afterthoughts of a Victorian wet dream.
- There she was, a smile stretched between her cheeks, warm as a two-bar heater.
- It’s a poor mouse that depends on only one hole.
- A small slice of new moon sat over the cathedral like a piece of half-chewed orange peel.

You get the idea. The plot – which in this case is less important than the characters and style – sees Madigan being hired by the glamorous wife of a professor of neurobiology to keep an eye on her husband, whom she suspects of having an affair. Madigan, when not listening to Steve Earle, Warren Zevon, Tom Waits or Van Morrison, gives the case his attention but soon finds himself out of his depth in the city’s underworld of crime. If you’re familiar with the intrepid PI John Blaine (Vincent Banville’s gem of a creation) you’ll identify with, and enjoy, Madigan in Death Without Trace.- KT McCaffrey

Death Without Trace is available at the Collins Press. KT McCaffrey’s latest novel, The Cat Trap, will be published in November by Robert Hale

Here We Go A-Carrolling

The promo elves over at HarperCollins were kind enough to send us on a copy of the third in Michael Carroll’s The New Heroes series, Absolute Power, which unprovoked generosity increased our store of Michael Carroll-related info by roughly 100%. A disgraceful state of affairs, that, particularly as Carroll has in the past been short-listed for the Ottakar’s Children’s Book Prize - here’s hoping that that consignment of elf-sized hair-shirts comes through by the end of the week, eh? Anyhoo, here’s an excerpt from an interview with Michael conducted by Fractal Matter that increases the Comic Book Guy quotient of Crime Always Pays by roughly 1000%:

FM: Can you recall where your love of superheroes came from?
MC: “I can! Some time in the early 1970s my dad went to London. In those days travelling from Dublin to London was a big thing. Ireland was in the middle of a very long recession, and we were by no means a wealthy family. Anyway, while he was over there Dad bought me a copy of The Mighty World of Marvel, a black-and-white comic that reprinted some of the early Marvel stories. I’d never seen anything like it! The Incredible Hulk, The Amazing Spider-Man, Fantastic Four… I was completely blown away. Shortly after that, the UK Marvel comics started being imported to Ireland, so I was able to get a reasonably regular fix. Around that time I was also lucky enough to see one of the original Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons on a friend’s television set (we didn’t own a TV at the time - I told you we weren’t wealthy, didn’t I?), and one of my friends owned a little Batman figure with a parachute. I was hooked on superheroes, and especially loved Spider-Man, but what really impressed me was the Marvel UK reprint of The Avengers. My first issue was #16 - “The Old Order Changeth” – the one in which Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch joined the team. I actually still have that comic. Well, most of it: the cover is long gone and I coloured in the splash page …”

Michael? We believe there is help available. But you must want to be cured.

Great Literary Spats Of Our Time # 1: Marisa Mackle vs James Joyce

For some bizarre reason, a lot of people seem to think that the majority of women’s fiction authors are bubble- headed blonde ex-air hostesses who wouldn’t know a genius if he stopped them on the street and asked to sniff their undergarments. Happily, that’s not the case with our favourite women’s fiction writer Marisa Mackle (right), the gorgeous blonde ex-air hostess and best-selling novelist of contemporary classics such as The Mile High Guy, Mr Alright on the Night, So Long Mr Wrong and Confessions of an Air Hostess. As for that James Joyce geezer, don’t get her started. Oops, someone already did:

“And don’t tell me you read Ulysees (sic) and thought it was a great book. You, I and everybody else knows you’re being a twit. Joyce was totally taking the piss when he wrote it. It’s rubbish. And this is from somebody who has a 2:1 in English from UCD and has my books (sic) as compulsory reading on 3 (sic) top university degree courses in Europe.”

See what she did there? ‘Uly-sees’. Geddit? Fair puts Finnegans Wake in the ha’penny place, no? Marisa 1, Speccy Guy 0. And okay, we know what you’re going to say – Joyce’s novels are compulsory reading on three or four top university courses in Europe too. But you fell for it! Because he’s dead and, like, totally disunfabulous! Ha! Marisa 2, Dead Eye-Patch Guy 0. You go, girl …
Next week: Marisa Mackle vs William Shakespeare, who can’t even spell.

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?” # 173: John Connolly

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...
What crime novel would you most like to have written?
I always take the mature view on these things, and assume that if I had written one of my favourite books then it wouldn’t be as good. I think Ross Macdonald’s The Chill is a near-perfect crime novel, the only perceived lapse being the death early on of possibly the most interesting character, although the effect is quite shocking so I suppose it was intentional on Macdonald’s part. I find myself defending Macdonald regularly against those who see him as Chandler’s poor relation, or pressing him on those who haven’t read him but believe that, say, The Big Sleep is as close as crime fiction ever got to being literature, which it isn’t. Chandler's a fabulous writer, but Macdonald was always the better novelist.
Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
Wilbur Smith novels. The period novels are much better than the modern-day ones, as the dialogue doesn’t sound as clunky if it’s being spoken in the 1600s or 1700s, or by ancient Egyptians. I had to interview him a few years ago, and so read Monsoon in preparation, as it was the book that he was publicising at the time. I hadn’t read him since I was a teenager, and had vague memories of some ropey sex and a woman having a wee behind a rock (in the book, I hasten to add, not in my teenage life) but Monsoon was great fun. The ropey sex was still there, though. One phrase stands out in my memory: “She gasped at the sight of Tom’s wondrous man thing.” I thought: I have a man thing, but it’s not wondrous. What’s so special about his? Does it light up? Does it play a tune ...?
Most satisfying writing moment?
Probably finishing The Book of Lost Things. I’m a pretty harsh critic of my own work, but I felt that it represented as good a book as I was going to be able to write at that time, or perhaps ever, which is a bit depressing in a way. Something always gets lost in the act of transferring the nebulous book in your head to the page, which is very frustrating. You never quite manage to write the book that you set out to write, or at least I never do. I think the least was lost in the writing of The Book of Lost Things. It’s an odd little book, but I’m very fond of it and proud of it.
The best Irish crime novel is …?
You know, I’ll dodge that bullet by saying that the best Irish crime novel probably hasn’t been written yet. Crime fiction wasn’t our genre for such a long time, and now Irish writers are really starting to make an impact, but it’s early days yet. I think we’re going to see some fantastic Irish crime novels emerging over the next few years. As things stand, there have already been some very good ones.
What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
Urk! The other difficulty is that I don’t read as much Irish fiction, crime or otherwise, as I should, so I’m a bad person to ask. Perhaps, in common with British crime writers, Irish crime fiction might be better suited to television. I think Declan Hughes’ books would be interesting to see on television. That said, I don’t watch those two-hour Morse / Rebus / Wire In The Blood series. I don’t have the patience for them, although I’ll happily watch back-to-back episodes of The Wire or Deadwood. I think it’s to do with pacing.
Worst / best thing about being a writer?
I’m a worrier. I worry that I’m going to be dropped by my publishers, that I’m going to write a bad book . . . (I may have written a bad book already, but it seems that people can’t agree which one it is.) I’m not sure that I enjoy the process of publishing itself as much as I thought I would. When I see my book on a bookshelf I just think, man, I hope it’s doing okay. Then again, I rarely ask my publishers how the books are doing in terms of sales. I think I’m afraid of the answer. The best thing, for me, is that I can make a living and pay my bills by doing something that I love, however hard I may find writing sometimes. And I like meeting readers. There’s something flattering, and humbling, when people take the time to come along to a bookstore to listen to you talk about your book.
The pitch for your next novel is …?
I’m hopeless at pitches as well. Let’s see: it’s an Angel and Louis book – they’re two kind of minor characters in the Parker novels – in which they get in over their heads when they try to kill a wealthy businessman who has targeted them in an act of revenge for the death of his son. It’s much lighter than the Parker novels, and stylistically a bit different. It’s not as tortured, I suppose.
Who are you reading right now?
I made the mistake of trying to read the last Harry Potter book, which took me two weeks - the pacing (there’s that word again) just seemed to me to be all wrong - and I was resentful of the time it had taken when I was done. I tend to flick between fiction and non-fiction, so now I’m one chapter into Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Baghdad’s Green Zone by Rajiv Chandrasekaran. I do have a pile of other books sitting by my desk that I want to get to: Joe Hill’s 20th Century Ghosts, the new Philip Kerr and Martin Cruz Smith books, the new Paul Charles, the new James Lee Burke and, hey, the most recent Wilbur Smith. Ropey sex, here I come . . .
The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Gradually getting better . . .

John Connolly’s The Unquiet is currently on a best-seller list near you