Friday, September 30, 2011

On Combining Surrealism With The Best Of Noir Fiction

I do own more than one shirt, I swear. It just seems to be the case that, as happened last Friday night at the Mysterious Bookstore in New York (right), as I said a few words of thanks to everyone involved in bringing DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS to fruition, and particularly John Connolly, I’m always wearing the blue-striped affair whenever someone points a camera in my direction.
  As to what I was doing up a ladder, well, your guess is as good as mine.
  That pic comes courtesy of a fine piece by Peter McDermott in the Irish Echo, by the way, in which he gives a good overview of the events of the GREEN STREETS-inspired symposium on Irish crime writing hosted by Ireland House at NYU last weekend. For more, clickety-click here; and feel free to scroll down this page too …
  Elsewhere, it’s been a good week for ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL. First off, The Crime of It All posted a very nice review indeed, with the gist running thusly:
“ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL challenges the perceived limitations of the crime fiction genre as much as the perceived limitations of Ireland’s current financial woes. Dreamlike and invigorating, it combines surrealism with the best of noir fiction in an enthralling reminiscence of Flann O’Brien’s AT SWIM-TWO-BIRDS … Burke’s writing is sharp, funny, and excruciatingly honest … a genuinely original and inventive novel, and its brevity leaves the reader wanting more, more Declan Burke. After all, the man has crafted a clever, personal, and charming story, a testament to the prize worthy of the best of Irish crime fiction.” - Conor Tannam, The Crime of It All
  With which, as you can imagine, I was well pleased. For the rest, clickety-click here. But stay! For lo, there’s more, this courtesy of The Dubliner magazine:
“We’re into a self-conscious world of meta-fiction, somewhere between Muriel Sparks’ THE COMFORTERS, Bret Easton Ellis’ LUNAR PARK, and of course, the inevitable comparison, which John Banville makes on the front cover blurb, Flann O’Brien … It’s a measure of Burke’s achievement in this funny and clever book that he can stand comparison to these three. Meta-fiction is a high-wire act requiring wit and style, or it falls flat. Burke has both … the book is witty, philosophical and a page-turning crime thriller.” - Bridget Hourican, The Dubliner
  I thank you kindly, ma’am.
  Meanwhile, and equally good news for yours truly, was the confirmation that I’ll be taking part in a two-hander event with Alan Glynn next Thursday evening, October 6th, at The Rathgar Bookshop, kick-off for 7.30pm. The bad news is that there’s a €4 cover charge; the good news is, there’ll be wine served. And if my previous experience of the Rathgar Bookshop is any guide, the wine will flow until cups overfloweth. Even better news is that Alan Glynn’s BLOODLAND is a smashing piece of work in the classic ‘paranoid thriller’ mould. If you’re in the vicinity, and in the mood for a glass of wine (or three) and a conversation about good books, please drop by for a chat …

Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Best Things In Life Are Free … Books

The very kind souls at the Overlook Press have offered us a signed copy of Eoin Colfer’s current offering, PLUGGED, to give away to a discerning reader. First, the blurb elves:
The long-awaited crime caper so outlandish, so maniacal, so wickedly funny, it could have only come from the mind that brought you Artemis Fowl. Daniel McEvoy has a problem. Well, really, he has several, but for this Irish ex-pat bouncer at a seedy, small-time casino the fact that his girlfriend was just murdered in the parking lot is uppermost in his mind. That is until lots of people around him start dying, and not of natural causes. Suddenly Daniel’s got half the New Jersey mob, dirty cops and his man-crazy upstairs neighbour after him and he still doesn’t know what’s going on. Bullets are flying, everybody’s on the take and it all may be more than Daniel’s new hair plugs can handle. And Daniel’s got to find the guy who put in those hair plugs - or at least his body - and fast, or else he’ll never get that voice out of his head. Head-spinning plot twists, breakneck pacing and some of the best banter this side of Elmore Leonard’s Detroit, will keep you on the edge of your seat and itching for more.
  It’s been picking up some very nice reviews Stateside, has PLUGGED, with a selection from The Washington Post, Booklist, Kirkus Reviews and the Library Journal to be found here. The gist of the New York Times review runs thusly:
“Dan’s chivalric mission of mayhem makes no logical sense, but it does attract the attention of numerous unsavoury characters and results in lots of bloody fun.” - New York Times
  Nice. To be in with a chance of winning a signed copy of Eoin Colfer’s PLUGGED, just answer the following question:
Who should play the lead role in the inevitable movie of PLUGGED?
  Answers via the comment box, please, leaving an email contact address (and using (at) rather than @ to confound the spam monkeys) by noon on Thursday, October 6th. Et bon chance, mes amis

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?”: Gerry Galvin

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 DEBT TO PLEASURE by John Lanchester, for the cruel, patrician detachment of his main character, Tarquin Winot and his food descriptions, to die for!

What fictional character would you most like to have been?
Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther for the sheer pleasure of being hilariously inept.

Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
John Grisham, who always tells a good story.

Most satisfying writing moment?
When I finally discovered ‘the right voice’ for James Livingstone Gall in KILLER A LA CARTE.

The best Irish crime novel is …?
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY by Oscar Wilde. A stunning and creepy depiction of depravity, never bettered.

What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
So many! Any of Benjamin Black’s or Gene Kerrigan’s - all that authentic Dublin detail.

Worst / best thing about being a writer?
The worst thing is re-reading my over-indulgent wordiness and the best is loving the precious moments of flow.

The pitch for your next book is …?
Food critic, James Livingstone Gall, finally comes to grips with his murderous nature; rehab and a form of redemption. But he is unaware that a newly appointed Detective Inspector is revisiting past unsolved murders with James Livingstone Gall on top of his most wanted list. James, on the run, soon reverts to murder mode, globe-trotting, one step ahead of the posse.

Who are you reading right now?
THE MASTER by Colm Toibin, having just finished a couple of novels by Lawrence Block, a master in his own right. Henning Mankell’s THE DOGS OF RIGA is on standby.

God appears and says you can only write OR read. Which would it be?
I’d insist on the right to consult my lawyer.

The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Could do better.

Gerry Galvin’s KILLER A LA CARTE is published by Doire Press.

Monday, September 26, 2011

I Choo-Choo-Choose Arlene Hunt

Yesterday I do be mentioning Arlene Hunt in dispatches from last weekend’s trip to New York, so I do (sorry, but we were in an Irish bar on Friday night, and it takes time for the pixie dust to wear off), and it’s fair to say that one of the highlights of the weekend was seeing Arlene’s latest tome, THE CHOSEN, in the flesh for the first time. A very handsome tome it is too, and nice to see a crime novel that opts for a white cover rather than the usual grim tones that tend to dominate designers’ palettes. It’s all the more impressive, methinks, when you consider that THE CHOSEN is Arlene’s first outing under her own aegis, as it were: after six well-received titles published with a traditional house, Arlene has taken publishing matters into her own hands, setting up Portnoy Publishing with her husband. I wish them a fair wind and calm seas as they set sail into the future …
  As for the novel itself, Mike Nicol over at the very fine Crime Beat blog is currently publishing extracts from a number of contemporary Irish crime novels, and Arlene’s contribution from THE CHOSEN can be found here. “A taut, sharp, gripping re-imagining of the serial-killer novel,” says Tana French, which is all kinds of nice.
  Elsewhere, Crime Beat also features extracts from Alan Glynn’s latest, BLOODLAND; a snippet from Colin Bateman’s forthcoming tome NINE INCHES that begins - oh yes! - with, “It was a dark and stormy night …”; and my own humble tome, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, which is currently sulking in a corner and wishing it had been written by Colin Bateman. Ungrateful buggers, my books …

A Fairytale of New York

I walked out of my hotel in Manhattan on Friday morning to find myself in an Alan Glynn novel. A damp, muggy morning, with the upper reaches of the Chase Manhattan building (right) around the corner swaddled in cloud, and tempting it was to believe that the building was a totem for capitalism, its vaulting ambition being claimed by spectral apparitions descending on Manhattan. The impression of being in an Alan Glynn novel was only confirmed when you strolled along the street and turned right into Wall Street, which was cordoned off and patrolled by the NYPD, this due to the ‘Take Wall Street’ protests. I ate a breakfast of champions of a short stack of pancakes and a strawberry shake and watched a flash mob of protestors chant, sing and drum their way towards the cordons, hedged about and trailed by New York’s finest, the protestors filming the cops filming them, and all as suitably claustrophobic, ironic and paranoid a fairytale about the clash between capitalism and democracy as you could wish for. Or maybe I was just hallucinating after spending a night at the bar in the company of unnamed Irish writers, during which - I can only surmise - I was strapped to said bar against my will and force-fed White Russians.
  Said writers and myself were in New York, of course, to mark the US publication of DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS, and a very fine time was had at the Mysterious Bookstore on Friday evening, where we were hosted in very hospitable fashion. An absolutely wonderful bookstore; if you find yourself in New York, make your way to Warren Street and inhale. The line-up of Irish writers was (l-r): John Connolly, Declan Hughes, Arlene Hunt, Alex Barclay, Colin Bateman, Professor Ian Campbell Ross and Stuart Neville.
  A fine body of men, certainly, although even a cursory glance will tell you that the actually fine bodies belonged to the ladies, who brought a badly needed soupcon of glamour to the occasion.
  We’ll draw a discreet veil over the post-Mysterious Bookstore shenanigans, and fail miserably in our duty to identify the writer who managed to get trapped in the doors of a subway train, to be rescued with no little derring-do by Captain Bateman, and move on to Saturday, when Ireland House at NYU hosted said writers in a series of panels and events dedicated to exploring the current boom in Irish crime writing. John Waters of Ireland House was in wonderful form, cheerleading GREEN STREETS in particular and the Irish crime novel in particular in charismatic fashion, ably assisted by Irish crime fiction’s leading agent provocateur, one Joe Long, a man among men, and the hidden engine behind the Ireland House symposium. It was slightly surreal for yours truly to listen to various academics not only take GREEN STREETS seriously, but to spin their own theories off its central premise, and marvellous it was too to be introduced to the semi-legendary Professor Joe Lee, and be able to make a presentation to him on behalf of Liberties Press and the assembled writers.
  All in all, a terrific day, and one in which some very interesting ideas were bandied about. I may be wrong, but I don’t think we’ve heard the last of that day’s events just yet.
  As for the rest, well, what happens in Noo Yoik stays in Noo Yoik. Suffice to say that wine flowed, the veritas surfaced, and I now know - even though I don’t want to - what a ‘barse’ is. Cheers, Stuart. I may never sleep peacefully again.
  Finally, a heartfelt thanks to everyone at the Mysterious Bookstore, and at Ireland House, NYU, and especially to the inimitable Clair Lamb, who was brilliant above and beyond the call of duty.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Mysteriouser And Mysteriouser ...

All going well - which isn’t always the case for yours truly when it comes to airports - I’ll be in New York as you’re reading this, all sweaty-palmed with excitement at the prospect of wandering along to the Mysterious Bookshop at 6pm, there to join with John Connolly, Arlene Hunt, Declan Hughes, Stuart Neville, Alex Barclay, Colin Bateman and Professor Ian Ross as the quasi-mythical Otto Penzler hosts a coteries of Irish crime writers who may or may not be the first wave of what might prove to be a tsunami of Irish crime writers breaking on US shores. For all the details of what should prove to be a very enjoyable evening indeed, clickety-click here
  The following day, as I’ve mentioned before, said writers will be joined by their Irish-American peers Pete Hamill and Peter Quinn as John Waters hosts a day-long symposium on the Irish crime novel at Ireland House, NYU. I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time now, particularly as it will mark the official launch of DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS in the North American territory. There’s a terrific day’s schedule lined up - again, for all the details, clickety-click here
  And that’s pretty much it for now. In theory I’d like to blog about the events as they happen, but I may well be self-sabotaged by the desperate need for sleep whenever I’m not actually talking or eating. It’s been a hell of a six months, what with two books being published, and juggling all that goes with that with a day-job, all the while trying to write a new novel. Still, a weekend like the one in prospect makes all the long hours worthwhile, especially as it’ll be spent in some very fine company indeed. Normal-ish service will very probably be resumed on Monday, jet-lag permitting; until then, folks, I’m outta here …

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Uptown, Top Rankin

The Artist Formerly Known as Colin Bateman gets in touch to avail of the two molecules of oxygen publicity Crime Always Pays offers, suggesting that we might like to mention the fact that tonight, Thursday 22nd, he’ll be interviewing one of the crime writing world’s luminaries tonight in Bangor, Norn Iron. To wit:
“I’m launching ‘Colin Bateman’s Crime Night’ at the Aspects Literary Festival in my local manor of Bangor, which will in a very minor way feature the launch of my new novel, NINE INCHES, and in a very major way see me attempt to interview Ian Rankin in the festival marquee before 300 baying fans of yon Scottish bloke. Amongst other questions, I will ask him if he would ever considered dropping his first name and just being called Rankin, because it’s all the rage.”
  Short notice, I know, but hey - that’s the way the Batemeister rolls. For booking details, clickety-click here.
  Meanwhile, I understand that said whippersnapper Ian Rankin also has a new title for your delectation, said tome being called THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD, with the blurb elves wittering thusly:
Malcolm Fox and his team from Internal Affairs are back. They’ve been sent to Fife to investigate whether fellow cops covered up for a corrupt colleague, Detective Paul Carter. Carter has been found guilty of misconduct with his own uncle, also in the force, having proved to be his nephew’s nemesis. But what should be a simple job is soon complicated by intimations of conspiracy and cover-up - and a brutal murder, a murder committed with a weapon that should not even exist. The spiralling investigation takes Fox back in time to 1985, a year of turmoil in British political life. Terrorists intent on a split between Scotland and the rest of the United Kingdom were becoming more brazen and ruthless, sending letter-bombs and poisonous spores to government offices, plotting kidnaps and murder, and trying to stay one step ahead of the spies sent to flush them out. Fox has a duty to get at the truth, while the body count rises, the clock starts ticking, and he fights for his professional and personal life.
  So there you have it. Two titans of the contemporary crime writing scene together at last, in Bangor, Norn Iron. The place may never be the same again …

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Crime Always Pays: 400,000 Not Out

Barring unforeseen disaster, at some point today, or more probably tomorrow, Crime Always Pays will pass the 400,000 hits mark, and begin its Sisyphean journey towards the magical half-million. A rather small hill of beans, I know, in the grander scheme of things, and I’d trade them all for a milking cow, or a beanstalk, or even a flunky called Jack who might wander forth and bring home a goose that lays golden eggs. Or even one golden egg. Or just an egg.
  Anyway, I wanted to mark the moment not to blow any trumpets (although I might let loose with a kazoo-parp as the hit-counter ticks past the mark), but to celebrate the blog and what - or who, more importantly - it represents. When it all kicked off about four and a half years ago, Irish crime writing was still very much a niche-niche genre - to be honest, I thought I’d be lucky if I found myself talking about twenty or so writers, past and present. As it happened, I was extraordinarily lucky, in that I started CAP (to plug THE BIG O, at the time) just as Irish writers started churning out top quality crime fiction in astonishing quantity and quality. I was also very lucky in that some of the top Irish writers at the time - in particular John Connolly and Ken Bruen - were more than happy to play along, and lend their considerable reputations to the gig by taking part in various blog posts I suggested; as a result, CAP was picked up by a whole host of like-minded people in the wider crime writing and reading community, and we were off and running.
  Four and a half years later, there’s been a lot of highs and lows. As all Three Regular Readers (who were obviously very busy hitting the repeat button) will already know, I’ve downed tools on CAP on a couple of occasions, unable to keep up with various other demands, most of them related to labour that pays in more than love. Mostly, though, it’s been highs. For starters, and probably most importantly, I’ve met so many terrific people through CAP that I really couldn’t start to count them, and some of my best friends these days originated on these pages. When all is said and done, and in accepting that we’re all here because we love books, these are the things that truly matter.
  Other personal highs include seeing THE BIG O get published in the US, not least because so many people were good enough to play their part in creating a word-of-mouth buzz that eventually proved irresistible; the publication of DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS, which was a direct and logical follow-on from CAP; and seeing ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL finally emerge from its purgatory to sit on a shelf as an actual book, having first debuted in public on these pages and received such strong support and goodwill that it would have been churlish not to pursue its publication to the bitter end.
  There’s also the fact that CAP has - by default, almost - put me in a position whereby I tend to catch new Irish crime writers at an early stage, and thus get that wonderful buzz of ‘discovering’ new writers, a buzz that’s only really matched by the thrill of being able to let the world at large know about the latest sensation that’s on its way.
  It’s a total coincidence, of course, but a timely one, that the 400,000 hits mark will be passed this week, and very probably on the day I fly out to New York in the company of some very fine Irish crime writers - Colin Bateman, Arlene Hunt, Declan Hughes, Alex Barclay - for a symposium on Irish crime fiction to be hosted by Ireland House at NYU, which will also be attended by John Connolly and Stuart Neville, who are currently at large in the US and very probably terrorising unsuspecting bystanders. Very nice it’ll be too to spend a weekend in such august company, especially for the purpose of bigging up the Irish crime novel in general and specifically DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS; and particularly as it was a Dublin dinner in the company of two men, John Waters and Joe Long, when I first got the glimmer of the idea that became GREEN STREETS. All kinds of synchronicity, then, will be sparking in New York this weekend; if you’re going to be in the vicinity, feel free to drop by and say hi. All the details can be found here
  Finally, I’m going to mark the 400,000 mark with a very humble offering, being a threefer of signed copies of EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, THE BIG O and ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL to the person who drops a comment in the box closest to the ticking-over moment. If, as is highly unlikely, it appears that there’s something of a tie, I’ll put the names in a hat and draw the winner.
  Until then, I thank you all for your support, kindness and encouragement over the last four and a half years, and here’s to another four and a half years to come …

Monday, September 19, 2011

The West Is Awake, And Lethal

It’s hard to keep pace with all the Irish crime fiction titles being published lately, and these days I’m in dire danger of the blogging equivalent of being lapped. Nevertheless, we’ll huff and puff onwards, doing our best to bring you the very latest in crime offerings …
  There’s two for your delectation today, both courtesy of the West of Ireland. First up, Conan Kennedy, who has THE COLOUR OF HER EYES published by Mayo’s Morrigan Press, with the blurb elves wibbling thusly:
This is the story of Ruth Taylor. We meet her first as a troubled schoolgirl in a poor part of London. Her teacher there is John Dexter. They have a brief meeting, and do not meet again for five years. By then he is a married man with children, and she a single mother of a daughter. They have another brief connection, and do not meet again for another five years. THE COLOUR OF HER EYES tells the story of why, and what happens then, and who they really are. And tells the story of the investigation of a crime by Detective Inspector Harris.
  For more on Conan Kennedy, clickety-click here
  Meanwhile, Galway’s Doire Press publishes KILLER A LA CARTE by renowned chef and food writer Gerry Galvin. Unsurprisingly, the novel has a culinary flavour. To wit:
KILLER A LA CARTE is the story of James Livingstone Gall, London food critic and serial killer. Behind a façade of pedantry, and foodie one-upmanship James is a dangerous psychopath. The story traces James’ perversely romantic association with heiress Claudia Catalano, whose hotels’ tycoon father was having an affair with James’ mother Grace, at the time of his suspicious death. Claudia holds Grace responsible, desires revenge but is also attracted to James. Their headlong, murderous progression is at the heart of the narrative.
  So there you have it. Conan Kennedy and Gerry Galvin, two more names to add to the ever-lengthening roll-call of Irish crime writing. I may be wrong, but something tells me this pair are going to be a couple of mavericks …

ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL: From Zero To Hero

The Sunday Times’ Culture section did me up a kipper over the weekend, giving over two-thirds of a page to a review of ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL by Kristoffer Mullin, and plugging said review on the Contents page with the line, ‘Declan Burke’s genre-busting thriller about blowing up a hospital is a blast.’
  I’d have been happy enough with that much as a review, to be perfectly honest, not least because the Sunday Times tends to parsimonious with ye olde compliments - it’s fair to say, while drawing a discreet veil over the gory details, that they were less than impressed with DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS.
  It’s also fair to say that Kristoffer Mullin liked AZC. Under the headline, ‘Raising the Stakes’, the gist runs thusly:
“Burke’s peers have showered him with plaudits, describing ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL as a wildly inventive take on noir fiction, and comparing its creator to Flann O’Brien, Raymond Chandler, John Fowles and Paul Auster. It’s hard to disagree, though another name should be thrown in there: Bret Easton Ellis, with his skewed perspectives, acid humour and pop-culture references.
  “Karlsson is a thrilling creation, up there with the Patrick Batemans of literature. Misanthropic and bitterly cynical, the hospital porter is also philosophical and occasionally inspired. The twisted logic that leads to him plotting to blow up the hospital is a masterpiece of unsavoury reflection on history and Darwinism blended with a hefty dose of sociopathy, yet always leavened with pitch-black wit.
  “That humour is a constant throughout the novel […]
  “Yet for all the literary devices and sharp humour, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL would be little more than a clever diversion if it did not also succeed as a thriller. Burke ratchets up the tension beautifully towards the climax, its inevitability foreshadowed by an opening scene that becomes all the more disturbing in retrospect as the novel progresses.
  To borrow from [Ken] Bruen’s blurb, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL is unlike anything else you’ll read this year: funny and disturbing, it also straddles a fine line between the absurd and the profound. It never forgets the conventions of crime fiction, while simultaneously subverting them. A triumph.” - Kristoffer Mullin, Sunday Times
  Funnily enough, and vis-à-vis the Bret Easton Ellis reference, the title ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL is in part a nod towards LESS THAN ZERO, which is a very fine novel and a terrific title.
  Anyway, there you have it. We’re kind of running out of print media review outlets here in Ireland, given that the Irish Times has had its say, and the Irish Independent, and the Sunday Business Post, so I guess that that’s probably the last review of its kind. Still, if that does happen to be the case, it’s a very, very nice way to go out. I thank you kindly, one and all …

Sunday, September 18, 2011

On The Irish Crime Novel And Tat

I was supposed to take part, via Skype link-up, in the Bouchercon panel on Irish crime writing yesterday, a panel hosted by Erin Mitchell and featuring John Connolly, Stuart Neville, Eoin Colfer and Erin Hart. Sadly, the technology let us down, and I was reduced to earwigging on the event, which sounded like it was terrific fun, with much in the way of self-effacing humour and self-mockery. Erm, chaps? It behoves you to act with appropriate seriousness, and whinge a lot about how you’re a second-class literary citizen, etc. Otherwise, crime writing will never get the credit it deserves from the likes of John Boland.
  Anyhoo, I had an interview with said John Connolly published yesterday in the Irish Examiner to mark the publication of his latest Charlie Parker novel, THE BURNING SOUL, which opened up a lot like this:
“You know the Irish crime novel has arrived,” says John Connolly, “because we’ve started producing tat. In the beginning it was a blank canvas, and there wasn’t a lot of money to be made, and there was a lot of experimentation, people whizzing off in interesting directions into virgin territory. Now we have the foot-soldiers coming through, producing stuff we’ve read in other forms before. Especially with the serial killer novel, which in the wrong hands can quickly spiral out of control and become a bit nasty, bodies piling up all over the pages.”
  The Irish crime novel was still something of a novelty in 1999 when Connolly, then an Irish Times journalist, published his debut, ‘Every Dead Thing’. Set in Maine in the US, and featuring the private eye Charlie Parker, its experimental aspect was the blending of conventional crime fiction tropes with elements of the gothic novel, and particularly those of the supernatural.
  “Crime fiction is still very uncomfortable with any kind of experimentation,” he says, “anything that deviates from a functional, rationalist take on the world. But I think it’s legitimate to introduce other elements, and elements that are directly opposed to that rationalist mindset ...”
  For the rest, clickety-click here
  Staying with said John Connolly, the Dark Lord will be leading the charge to New York next week, when he heads up a posse of Irish crime scribes being hosted by Ireland House at NYU for the purpose of celebrating the rise and rise of Irish crime fiction. Attendees will include John Connolly, Stuart Neville, Arlene Hunt, Alex Barclay, Declan Hughes, Colin Bateman and Professor Ian Ross on the Irish side, and Peter Quinn and Pete Hamill holding up the Irish-American end. The event takes place from 9.30am to 7pm on Saturday, September 24th at Ireland House; if you’re in the vicinity, clickety-click here for all the details

Saturday, September 17, 2011

On Taking Pride In Prejudice

I’m not saying that John Boland is a crap reviewer, necessarily, and he’s as entitled to his opinion as the next man, but it’s worth pointing out that he took a pop at Alan Glynn’s BLOODLAND in the Irish Independent a couple of weeks ago on the basis that it was longer, more ambitious and more geographically diverse than the books he liked to read as a younger man. No, seriously. The review is here
  This week he takes a swipe at DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS, opening up thusly:
Both critically and commercially, Irish crime writing has never had it so good and Irish crime authors have benefited from the boom it’s been enjoying over the last decade or so.
  Why, then, do so many of them whinge about not being taken seriously -- or, at least, not as seriously as they take themselves?
  In his editor’s note at the start of this ragbag of essays and stories by various Irish crime writers, Declan Burke concedes that it may be “stretching a point” to suggest they are “prophets without honour in their own country”, but he goes on to stretch it anyway -- finding it “a little bit odd” and “not a little unfortunate” that they’re “more celebrated outside of Ireland than they are at home”.
  Is this true? I thought they were doing pretty well for themselves here.
  Clearly, though, it rankles with some of them that they’re treated like second-class authors …
  Now, I know it’s the done thing to just take your lumps when you get a bad review, brush it off and get on with it. But what actually rankles is when someone reviews a book according to preconceived notions, or an agenda, and deliberately misreads the text in order to prove their point.
  Because here’s the thing, John - Irish crime authors are more celebrated outside of Ireland than they are at home. If you’d like a little proof, just dig out the ‘Emerald Noir’ documentary Val McDermid put together for BBC 4 last February, celebrating the rise and rise of Irish crime writing - maybe I missed it, but I can’t remember a similar radio doc being made for Irish radio. Or click on this link here, which will tell you all you need to know about how New York University is hosting a symposium this coming weekend on Irish crime writing - again, I might have missed it, but I don’t think any of the Irish universities have marked the coming of age of the Irish crime novel in a similar way. If you need still more proof, take the time to dig out all the awards that Irish crime writers have been nominated for in the last decade in America, home of the hardboiled crime novel, the most recent example of which was the LA Times’ Crime Novel of the Year award earlier this year, when a shortlist of five writers was made of three American writers and two Irish, Stuart Neville and Tana French. Or, if you choose, just take a look at the Irish Top Ten fiction lists over the last year alone, where you’ll find plenty of crime writers hitting the Top Ten, but very few Irish crime writers. Or there was last month’s announcement that both Benjamin Black and Casey Hill will have their novels adapted for TV in the UK. Perhaps Irish broadcasters were trampled underfoot in the stampede to bring those writers’ to the small screen, but suffice to say that both series will be broadcast courtesy of the UK, not Ireland.
  Yes, John, Irish crime writers are ‘doing pretty well for themselves’ (one guy, I think his name is Alan Glynn, even had his novel THE DARK FIELDS adapted as a major Hollywood movie earlier this year). The fact remains, though, that Irish crime writers are more celebrated outside of Ireland than at home.
  I was also a little taken aback by the snide tone of Boland’s review. To wit:
Some of these are comic, and all the more so for not being meant that way, as in Tana French’s argument that crime writing has become the genre that “examines the tensions and fears of a society” and that it’s also “where the crucial issues of any nation’s identity get explored”. So, not just French, but Balzac, too.
  Laugh? I nearly emigrated. Interesting, of course, that in his rush to deploy a piss-poor pun on Tana French’s name that any self-respecting crime writer would baulk at, John Boland cites Balzac rather than any of the heavyweight contemporary Irish literary writers. As fine a writer as he is, Balzac is hardly a poster-boy for how the modern novel, Irish or otherwise, engages with current concerns.
  But stay! Because John has a word or two to say on that topic too:
Yes, the ills of today’s post-boom Ireland form the backdrop to many recent crime novels but the plot remains the key thing, and while seedy politicians and venal developers feature in these stories, their roles are seldom more than decoratively expedient -- gaudily drawn villains in tales that are much less interested in (or capable of) exploring the roots of our current malaise than in working towards the tense denouement demanded by a tried-and-trusted formula.
  ‘But the plot remains the key thing …’ Here’s a question: Since when did ‘plot’ become such a dirty word in literature? Has literary fiction disappeared so far up its own fundament that a good plot is now fair game for sneering at?
  As for crime fiction being ‘tales that are much less interested in (or capable of) exploring the roots of our current malaise than in working towards the tense denouement demanded by a tried-and-trusted formula’, well, where to start?
  I suppose we could start by pointing out that, broadly speaking, the classic three-act drama of order-chaos-order (the latter featuring redemption / retribution / catharsis) has been with us since the Classical Greeks, and by those lights is indeed a ‘tried-and-trusted formula’. We could also ask, in all sincerity, where the literary novels ‘exploring the roots of our current malaise’ are, and what the literary writers have to offer in this regard that the crime writers don’t, the vast majority of literary authors being no more or less blessed with penetrating economic insights than their crime-writing brethren, or the vast majority of economists, for that matter.
  I could go on, but the review is here if you want to read it, and I’ve a busy afternoon ahead, what with that Ph.D in Economics to study for, that overview of the use of dramatic momentum in Classic Greek tragedy to brush up on, and that essay I have to write for Book Reviewing 101: ‘Taking Pride In Prejudice’.
  Gosh, it really is all go when you’re an Irish crime writer …

Friday, September 16, 2011

“Dante Is Well Served Here, All Around.”

I’m feeling a bit guilty, if I’m honest, about snowing the Three Regular Readers with reviews of ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL. But here’s the thing: I don’t get a book published very often, and as far as I know, this may well be the last book of mine that will ever hit a shelf. So, in part, I kind of owe it to the book to spread the word as far as I can; more importantly, and given that Liberties Press were good enough to take a gamble on publishing it when no other house would touch it with the proverbial barge pole, I definitely owe it to Liberties to parp the trumpets at every opportunity.
  Anyway, the latest review to pop up comes courtesy of Richard L. Pangburn at Little Known Gems, who appears to have given AZC quite a close reading, and particularly in terms of the ‘writer vs his muse’ aspect, in which context he cites Cormac McCarthy, Lawrence Block and Dante. The full review can be found here, with the gist running thusly:
“On its surface it crackles with wit, aphorisms, black one-liners, erudite literary allusions, popular culture references, and frequently surprising wordplay … laced with autobiographical asides and very dark humour involving terrorism, fatherhood, hospitals, the relationship between creation and destruction in parable, and much more … ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL is a literary novel and a darkly humorous work of philosophy. It easily falls into that sub-category of intellectual noir … Dante is well served here, all around.” - Little Known Gems
  All of which is very nice indeed, and I thank you kindly, sir.
  Meanwhile, Tony Bailie of the Irish News published an interview with yours truly yesterday. Here’s a sampler:
Declan Burke’s surreal take on the noir genre is generating rave reviews – including thumbs up from John Banville, Ken Bruen, John Connolly and Colin Bateman – and the character-confronting-the-author twist has seen Burke being compared to Flann O’Brien.
  “I’m a big fan of Flann O’Brien, and particularly AT SWIM-TWO-BIRDS – I’ve always loved that idea of messing about with the way you can tell a story and especially the idea that the characters in a book are entitled to have their say about how the story is going,” Burke says.
  “You can get a bit heavy about it and talk about how it’s an expression of free will, with the writer being ‘God’ and the characters ‘human beings’ – I mean, if your life is a story, don’t you feel like you’re entitled to have some say in how it‘ll work out?
  “I didn’t sit down and say, ‘Right, I’m going to write a Flann O’Brien book.’ The way the story came out is the way it needed to be to tell this particular story. Besides, that kind of narrative playfulness is far older than Flann O’Brien. It’s nearly as old as the novel itself, going all the way back to Tristram Shandy.”
  For the rest, courtesy of Tony Bailie’s blog (the Irish News being a subscription site), clickety-click here

Thursday, September 15, 2011

From Russia With Blood

I mentioned last week that William Ryan’s THE BLOODY MEADOW gets its Irish launch today, at O’Mahony’s Bookshop, 120 O’Connell Street, Limerick, and the mood should be buoyant, to say the least, given the early buzz. To wit:
“THE HOLY THIEF was both bleak and savage … In an interesting change of pace which suggests the author has more than a formulaic series planned, in this second instalment Ryan has produced a film-noir-ish rewrite of the old-fashioned locked-room mystery, complete with creepily gripping, and ultimately gruesome, cops and robbers chase through the great catacombs on which Odessa sits, while Stalin’s man-made terror-famine, which scorched through the Ukraine half a decade before the book opens, is only gestured at, in elliptical speech and ultimately in the characters’ motivations.” - The Spectator
  Tasty. And there’s more:
“THE HOLY THIEF, set in Stalin’s Russia, was one of last year’s most impressive crime fiction debuts. THE BLOODY MEADOW, William Ryan’s follow-up, does not disappoint … Ryan has obviously done much research into that sinister period of Russian history and manages to convey its claustrophobic atmosphere brilliantly.” - The Times
  All of which is very nice indeed; consider this fan’s appetite well and truly whetted. For more of the same, clickety-click here

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

“A Broken Mind Is A Very Attractive Thing To A Woman.”

I had a piece published in the Irish Examiner the weekend before last, which centred on Irish women crime writers, and exploring the reasons why crime fiction written by women comes at the crime narrative in a way that’s distinct from the male take on the genre. It featured a rather fabulous photo-shoot styled by Annmarie O’Connor (right), which starred Arlene Hunt, Ava McCarthy, Niamh O’Connor and Alex Barclay as latter-day femmes fatales, and opened up a lot like this …
A WOMAN’S work is never done, especially when that work involves excavating the fears, hopes and traumas that lie at the heart of crime fiction.
  Alex Barclay, Arlene Hunt, Niamh O’Connor and Ava McCarthy are four of the leading lights of the current wave of Irish crime writing — women who prove that the female author is very often deadlier than the male.
  “Crime novels are about life, death, love, loss and broken minds,” says Alex Barclay. “A broken mind is a very attractive thing to a woman, because there is a compulsion to understand it. I’m not saying that no man is wired that way, just that more women are.”
For the rest, clickety-click here

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Who Is This Man Joseph Hone?

It’s fair to say that the world - niche as it is - of Irish crime writing never fails to surprise me. Late last week, it came to my attention that Lilliput Press has just published a novel called GOODBYE AGAIN by Joseph Hone, with the blurb suggesting that the novel might - just might, mind, given Lilliput’s predilection for publishing literary fiction - be considered a crime thriller. To wit:
Ben Contini, a disenchanted painter of considerable talent, has just buried his mother. Rifling through the attic of her Kilkenny house he stumbles across a Modigliani nude, worth millions. Determined to learn the provenance of the painting, he and Elsa, a disturbed and secretive woman who accosts him at the funeral, become embroiled in the sinister world of Nazi art theft. But they are not the only one with an interest in the painting ... Together they set off on a frantic journey that leads them from Dublin to France via the Cotswolds, down the Canal du Midi into Italy. The intrigue surrounding the shadowy half-truths about their exotic families becomes increasingly sinister as Ben and Elsa are forced to confront their pasts and their buried demons. Set in the 1980s, this is a fantastic new book from established thriller writer Joseph Hone, who weaves a breathless, galloping intrigue packed with narrative twists and sumptuous evocations of Europe’s forgotten past.
 ‘Established thriller writer’? Surely not, thought I, being so well-versed (koff) in all things Irish crime fiction. But lo! A little investigation - very little, to be perfectly frank - unearthed the following on Wikipedia:
Joseph Hone (born February 25, 1937) is a writer of the Spy Novel. His most famous novels featured a British spy called Peter Marlow. The first of the series was THE PRIVATE SECTOR (1971), set in the Six Day War. Marlow’s story continues in THE SIXTH DIRECTORATE (1975), THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST (a.k.a. THE OXFORD GAMBIT) (1980), and THE VALLEY OF THE FOX (1982). Today, Hone’s novels are out of print. During his heyday, in the 1970s, however, he was favourably compared with writers such as Len Deighton, Eric Ambler and John le Carré.
  Impressive enough, but over at the Faber Finds blog, Jeremy Duns waxes rather more than lyrical about one Joseph Hone. Quote:
“A third of the way through THE PRIVATE SECTOR I thought I was reading a beautiful marriage of Orwell’s BURMESE DAYS (in its evocation of profound British colonial torpor) and John Fante’s ASK THE DUST (in its rendering of a hopeless, near-rebarbative love affair). But that is before the spy game truly gets underway, and Hone shifts gears to show his expertise in that department too.”
  Crikey. Elsewhere, Duns quotes a Washington Post review of THE PRIVATE SECTOR:
“There are moments in this book – indeed, whole chapters – where one is haunted by the eerie feeling that Joseph Hone is really Graham Greene, with faint quarterings of Lawrence Durrell and Thomas Pynchon. His tone is nearly perfect – quiet, morbidly ironic, beautifully controlled and sustained, moodily introspective, occasionally humorous and more often bitter, with a persistent undertone of unspeakable sadness and irrecoverable loss.”
  So that’s me and my ignorance well and truly told. Sounds like Joseph Hone might be one of the great lost Irish thriller writers, and that GOODBYE AGAIN is well worth a whirl. I’ll keep you posted …

Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Cool Before The Storm

There’s a hurricane raging outside as I write (no, seriously), but I’m already in serene-style eye of the storm mode right now, for lo! Another nice review of our humble tome, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, popped up yesterday, this one courtesy of the Sunday Business Post. The gist runs thusly:
“Declan Burke plunges into surreal realms in this exhilarating, cleverly wrought novel … Burke clings to his swerving, wild plot throughout, dragging the reader, enthralled but slightly disorientated, to a worthy conclusion. Comparisons to Flann O’Brien’s AT SWIM-TWO-BIRDS are obvious, yet Burke’s canny control of his novel - if not quite his characters - means they’re positive ones.” - Julian Fleming, Sunday Business Post
  I thank you kindly sir, although my heart did skip a beat when I read that ‘if not quite his characters’ bit, presuming that it meant the characterisations in the novel aren’t up to snuff. And then I realised, okay, it’s because the characters in the novel rise up against their predetermined Fate and / or the wishes of their Creator, and strike out on their own …
  Anyway, there was another very nice plug yesterday for AZC, in the Sunday Independent, courtesy of Alison Walsh’s round-up of autumn books to watch out for, when AZC was mentioned in the company of John Connolly, Alan Glynn, Colin Bateman and William Ryan. Which is very nice company for any book to keep. For the full list of tomes you should be reading, clickety-click here
  Finally, Mike Nicol at South Africa’s Crime Beat was kind enough to feature an extract from AZC late last week, said extract being the first in a series of offerings from new and current titles from a selection of Irish crime writers. If you fancy a quick dip into AZC, you know what to do

UPDATE:
I had a very nice surprise when I wandered into town yesterday morning, and discovered that some kind soul working in Hodges Figgis on Dawson Street had placed ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL in the front window (above); and not only in the front window, but just outside the front door (alongside THE BLOODY MEADOW by William Ryan); and not only that, but adjacent to DOWN THESE GREEN STEETS, which was also adorning the H&F front window. All of which was very nice indeed. I thank you kindly, folks …
  Meanwhile, Glenna Jacobs over at Various Random Thoughts was good enough to post her thoughts on AZC, the gist of her impression being that AZC was ‘the most unusual, twisted book I’ve ever read’, which is one of the nicest compliments I’ve had to date, this on the presumption that said quote was in fact intended as a compliment. Either way, I like it, and I thank you kindly, ma’am …

John Connolly: A Genre Of One?

I’ve mentioned before that I think John Connolly’s latest, THE BURNING SOUL, is one of his finest offerings yet, and it would appear that I’m not alone. Quote Joe Hartlaub over at The Book Reporter:
“The work of John Connolly is becoming more and more entrenched as a genre of one. His Charlie Parker novels are at once some of the darkest and most beautifully written books one is likely to encounter … Connolly’s characterization is marvellous and unforgettable, and his plotting first-rate - think Stephen King and George C. Higgins somehow sitting down and collaborating. But it’s his prose - so black, so rich, so deep -that keeps readers coming back.” - Joe Hartlaub
  Very nice indeed; and Mr and Mrs Kirkus, if a little more conservative, are in broad agreement:
“Connolly’s latest Charlie Parker thriller offers a powerful story line that weaves together suspense, mystery and a small touch of the supernatural … An intelligent, plausible thriller, both harrowing and memorable.” - Kirkus Reviews
  Meanwhile, and while we’re on the subject of fine reviews, the inestimable Glenn Harper of International Noir recently weighed in with his verdict on Gene Kerrigan’s THE RAGE. Quoth Glenn:

“THE RAGE is very good indeed, and I found in it some of the grim poetry of the first two books, as well as a very original approach to crime writing, responsive to both the demands of storytelling and the truth of a realistic portrayal of a very specific social milieu.” - Glenn Harper

  For the rest, clickety-click here

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Future Is Claret

There’s a couple of interesting launches next week, folks, and lashings of ye olde claret in prospect as BLOODLAND and THE BLOODY MEADOW see the light of day.
  First up, the official send-off for Alan Glynn’s BLOODLAND, which takes place on Tuesday 13th at - where else? - the Gutter Bookshop, Dublin, which appears to have become the bookstore of choice for the Irish crime fraternity. All the details are available in the invite to your right ...
  I got to read an early copy of BLOODLAND, although to be honest it didn’t arrive half early enough. As all Three Regular Readers will be aware, I’m a big fan of Alan Glynn’s first two offerings, THE DARK FIELDS and WINTERLAND, and BLOODLAND more than delivers on the promise of those novels, being something of a synthesis of the two, and a damn fine example of the classic paranoid thriller. If you don’t believe me - and I wouldn’t - then check out the couple of early reviews over at the Mulholland Books interweb lair, one of them written by no less a personage than the venerable Ali Karim. Sample quote:
“Glynn’s ability to take these big themes and distil them down to the seedy personal stories and motivations of the protagonists is the key to why this novel hypnotizes the reader.” - Ali Karim
  Elsewhere, William Ryan launches THE BLOODY MEADOW next Thursday, said tome being the follow-up to his critically acclaimed debut, THE HOLY THIEF, and one hotly anticipated around these here parts (said he, hoping to nudge some eagle-eyed PR personage into sending on an ARC). Quoth the blurb elves:
Following his investigations in THE HOLY THIEF, which implicated those at the very top of authority in Soviet Russia, Captain Alexei Korolev finds himself decorated and hailed as an example to all Soviet workers. But Korolev lives in an uneasy peace – his new-found knowledge is dangerous, and if it is discovered what his real actions were during the case, he will face deportation to the frozen camps of the far north. But when the knock on the door comes, in the dead of night, it is not Siberia Korolev is destined for. Instead, Colonel Rodinov of the NKVD security service asks the detective to look into the suspected suicide of a young woman: Maria Alexandovna Lenskaya, a model citizen. Korolev is unnerved to learn that Lenskaya had been of interest to Ezhov, the feared Commissar for State Security. Ezhov himself wants to matter looked into. And when the detective arrives on the set for Bloody Meadow, in the bleak, battle-scarred Ukraine, he soon discovers that there is more to Lenskaya’s death than meets the eye ...
  I thought THE HOLY THIEF was a terrific read, but I won’t be able to make the launch, unfortunately, given that it takes place at 7pm in O’Mahony’s Bookshop, 120 O’Connell Street, Limerick on Thursday the 15th, at which time I will be working in Dublin and still forlornly struggling to master the art of bi-location.
  So there you have it: Alan Glynn’s BLOODLAND and William Ryan’s THE BLOODY MEADOW. That’s another good week for Irish crime fiction right there …

Thursday, September 8, 2011

“Wouldn’t It Be Nice To See A Work Of Pulp Win The Booker Prize?”

Erm, no. Allen Barra penned a mildly controversial piece for The Daily Beast earlier this week, suggesting that Benjamin Black, the alter-ego of John Banville (right), should win the Booker Prize. Herewith be the gist:
“One reason, I think, that critics are giddy over Black is that—let’s just say it—he’s more fun to read than Banville. (Well, some of Banville.) THE SEA is as exquisite as an Irish mist, but I won’t read DOCTOR COPERNICUS, KEPLER, and THE NEWTON LETTER again for all the whiskey in Quirke’s favourite pub. Another reason is that Benjamin Black’s territory is a new one for critics who regard themselves as “serious.” I suspect most of them have never dipped into the sordid but seductive world of Irish crime fiction—Patrick McGinley, for instance, or Ken Bruen, who is direct enough about his debt to Chandler to title a book DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS and whose detective, Jack Taylor, is so dissipated he makes Quirke seem like “a parfait genteel knight.” Banville might take it as an insult, though I think Black would not, that the Quirke novels are as good as anything produced by his contemporaries.
  “In 2006, when Banville accepted the Booker Prize for THE SEA—and, to be clear, if they had asked me, I would have voted for it—he made his famous statement, “It’s nice to see a work of art win the Booker Prize.” The egoism expressed in this statement bothers me not at all, but the deliberate tossing about of the phrase “work of art” makes me think that the man who used it was a pretentious prig who could do with a cheap thrill or two. Perhaps there is a difference between John Banville and Benjamin Black; if so, I think I prefer the latter. Black is Banville to be sure, and as Groucho said, outside of the improvement, you can’t tell the difference.
  “Wouldn’t it be nice to see a work of pulp win the Booker Prize?”
  A couple of things about all that:
  One, a work of pulp will never win the Booker Prize, because the Booker Prize isn’t awarded for pulp. It’s like suggesting that a pole-vaulter should win the gold medal for the javelin, because they’re both Olympic sports and involve running for a bit with a big stick and then letting go. The Booker Prize is what it is; I honestly don’t get this obsession some crime fiction writers and readers have with a crime novel winning it. To me it suggests an inferiority complex, that crime fiction will only be fully validated when it wins a literary prize. The truth is, if you want to win the Booker Prize, or be in with a chance of winning it, at least, then write the kind of book that tends to win the Booker Prize. And yes, I know that there’s great excitement about the fact that AD Miller’s SNOWDROPS has been shortlisted for this year’s Booker (along with Patrick DeWitt’s western SISTERS AND BROTHERS), and happy days for AD Miller if the book wins. Would it change the way people read and write crime fiction? Should it? Isn’t one of the attractions of crime fiction that it’s the half-breed outlaw of the publishing world? It is for me, at least. Do I want or need to see the kind of stories I like to write and read receive some kind of belated pat on the head as they pass through the gilded pillars into the whited sepulchre? Because - and it gives me no great pleasure to say this - literary fiction is on its knees. And not just in terms of sales - how often have we read the latest in an interminable series of ‘the novel is dead’ eulogies, in which some writer we’ve never heard of laments the fact that the literary novel has disappeared up its own fundament? The fact of the matter is, the literary novel is a vampire, a beautiful but dead shell which requires regular infusions of new blood in order to maintain the illusion of vitality, sucking up inspiration from the genres it purports to despise. Maybe crime fiction and AD Miller’s SNOWDROPS is just the latest victim, who knows. And really, who cares?
  Secondly, and as all Three Regular Readers will be aware, Ken Bruen has yet to write a book called DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS, although he did contribute a short story to the collection of essays, interviews and short fictions published by Liberties Press earlier this year.
  Thirdly, John Banville is as entitled to a sense of humour as anyone else, and his ‘It’s nice to see a work of art win the Booker Prize’ comment was as much mischief as it was any kind of qualitative judgement on previous winners.
  As to whether Benjamin Black is as good, or better, a writer than John Banville, well, that’s a matter of opinion, and mine is that Banville is the better writer by some distance. But one thing is certain: Benny Blanco don’t write no pulp, in either guise.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Ohmigod: A Royalty Cheque?

Ring the bells and break out the bunting - yours truly received his very first royalties cheque yesterday, which isn’t bad going, considering I’ve been slogging away in the trenches for the best part of a decade now. Not that I’m going to be buying any Greek islands in the near future: the cheque, which arrived from Amazon Digital Services, was for royalties on the e-version of EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, and amounted to the princely sum of $111.97. Still, it’s better than a boot in the busters on a cold day.
  For those of you interested in the gory details, I published the e-version of EIGHTBALL in late February, at the rock-bottom price of $0.99c, upping the price a couple of months later, in an experiment-of-sorts, to $2.99. The new price affected sales, certainly, but not the royalties. To wit:
March: $8.05
April: $14.21
May: $23.27
June: $33.95
July: $32.49
  I should also point out that, with the publication of DOWN THESE GREEN STREETS and ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL in May and August, respectively, I wasn’t really in a position to cheerlead EIGHTBALL in the way I had been in the first couple of months. Still, sales have trundled on regardless, quietly ticking over. All of the above, by the way, relates to Amazon.com, and it’s worth pointing out that Irish e-users buy from Amazon.com rather than Amazon.uk, where the e-version of EIGHTBALL has sold very few copies.
  Meanwhile, the book has also been accruing some nice reader reviews. As of this morning, it has seven reviews, six of them five-star, one four-star. The most recent runs thusly:
“1940’s West Coast LA Chandler meets 21st Century West Coast Sligo Burke. The result is an explosive noir thriller with all the usual suspects: tarnished private eye, platinum blond, soft hearted dame, crooked cops, and more wisecracks than you could shake a stick at. Burke’s terse and pithy sentences conjure up the atmosphere with authenticity, style and wit. A convincingly brilliant read.” *****
  So there you have it: EIGHTBALL BOOGIE at $2.99. For all the details, including further reviews, and some encomiums from the likes of Charlie Stella, Val McDermid and Ken Bruen, feel free to clickety-click here

Monday, September 5, 2011

Take The E-Train

Choo-choo! The Artist Formerly Known as Colin Bateman (right) steams into the digital age with a short e-collection of short stories, titled DUBLIN EXPRESS. Quoth the Batemeister:
“‘Dublin Express’ itself first appeared in Maxim Jakubowski’s SEX IN THE CITY anthology of erotic fiction, the Dublin edition, and is chiefly notable for having no erotic content whatsoever; ‘Unhappy Endings’ was selected for this year’s MAMMOTH BOOK OF BRITISH CRIME; ‘NIPD Blue’ was my first ever short story, and the basis for a short film I directed was back in the 90s; ‘The Case of Mrs Geary’s Leather Trousers’ was the short story that originally inspired my Mystery Man novels; and finally ‘The Prize’, about an ex-terrorist who applies his old methods to conquering the art world, was originally broadcast on BBC Radio Four live from the Belfast Festival.”
  So there you have it. But lo! There’s more! Bateman has also deigned to e-publish is debut play, which was shortlisted for Best New Play at the Irish Theatre Awards last year. Back to the Batemeister:
“I think [National Anthem] is probably the best writing I’ve done. The play was premiered at last year’s Belfast Festival and was completely sold out. It was shortlisted for Best New Play at the Irish Theatre Awards but was scandalously beaten by another play.”
  DUBLIN EXPRESS can be found here, and NATIONAL ANTHEM can be found here, both at the cheap-as-chips, recession-busting price of £2.10.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

On Getting Plugged At Bouchercon

One of my highlights of the forthcoming Bouchercon in St Louis - had I been able to make it - would have been the panel hosted by Peter Rozovsky, ‘Cranky Streets: What’s So Funny About Murder?’, which will feature Colin Cotterill, Chris Ewan (who appears to be on an Uncle Travelling Matt-style walkabout across the length and breadth of the planet right now), Thomas Kaufman and Eoin Colfer.

  There’s a terrific buzz building around Colfer’s PLUGGED, the first adult crime novel from the man who turned teen megalomaniac Artemis Fowl into a literary superstar. There appears to be a growing awareness that, even if Colfer branded the Artemis novels ‘Die Hard with fairies’, there has always been a criminal instinct at play in his YA offerings, as suggested in last week’s interview with the LA Times. To wit:
Colfer, 46, might not have turned his talents to adult fare had it not been for Irish crime writer Ken Bruen, who, five years ago, asked Colfer to write a short story for the DUBLIN NOIR anthology he was editing.

  “I said, ‘I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I do fairy stories,’” Colfer told Bruen, but his colleague insisted that “when you take away the leprechauns, they’re all crime stories underneath.”

  Indeed, they are. In the seven Artemis Fowl books published so far, the crime stories are just populated with nefarious mud people and trolls and other fantasy creatures. What’s different about PLUGGED is the real-world setting, the subject matter — and Colfer’s voice, which, like the many books he’s written for children, is incomparably clever and witty. PLUGGED is just more profane and violent …
  Indeed it is. Meanwhile, there’s good and bad news for Artemis Fowl fans. The good news is, director Jim Sheridan has been confirmed to helm the first movie in the series, which will be produced by the Weinstein brothers; the bad news is, the next Artemis novel, THE LAST GUARDIAN, will be the last.

  For the rest, clickety-click here

  As for the reviews, well, it’s fair to say they’ve been of the glowing variety. Quoth, for example, the Seattle Times:
“PLUGGED is that rare book that mixes terrific suspense with laugh-out-loud humour ... [Danny] McEvoy will appeal to fans of the crime novels of Elmore Leonard and the wacky characters prevalent in the novels of Carl Hiaasen.”
  For those of you attending Bouchercon, Eoin Colfer is as funny in person as the characters he creates on the page, even if he doesn’t have any (immediate) plans for world domination, and his hair is all his own. Miss ‘Cranky Streets’ at your peril …

Friday, September 2, 2011

The Gospel According To Marklund

I had an interview with Liza Marklund (right) published in the Sunday Business Post last weekend, and a very enjoyable interview it was to do, too. Marklund, who is a journalist and filmmaker, and goodwill ambassador for UNICEF, as well as being a novelist, is a very savvy media operator, and knows how to spin a very quotable story, and she was very personable company to boot. Anyway, the opening runs thusly:
It’s becoming a bad joke. Virtually every Scandinavian writer who emerges onto the international stage is immediately branded the new Stieg Larsson, with cover stickers on their books to prove it. Liza Marklund, author of the Annika Bengtzon series of novels, is delighted by the comparison.

  “I love Stieg’s books,” Marklund says. “I didn’t know him, but we’re both from the north of Sweden, and we covered the same topics and our heroines are quite similar: larger-than-life, obnoxious women. But I’m so grateful that he wrote those books, and the success they’ve had is phenomenal.” She glances skywards. “So thank you, Stieg.”

  Marklund, at least, has earned the comparison. Bengtzon is a blend of Larsson’s most famous characters, the feisty heroine Lisbeth Salander and the crusading journalist Mikael Blomqvist, and Marklund’s persistent theme is also violence against women (the original Swedish title of Larsson’s THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO was MEN WHO HATE WOMEN).

  However, her Bengtzon novels represent neither homage nor copycat cash-in. The first story, THE BOMBER, was first published in 1998, and four more Bengtzon novels arrived before Larsson’s debut appeared in 2005 …
  For the rest, clickety-click here
Declan Burke has published a number of novels, the most recent of which is ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL. As a journalist and critic, he writes and broadcasts on books and film for a variety of media outlets, including the Irish Times, RTE, the Irish Examiner and the Sunday Independent. He has an unfortunate habit of speaking about himself in the third person. All views expressed here are his own and are very likely to be contrary.