Harry Rigby: ‘A Master of Situational Ethics’

It’s not often I get a nice review in Booklist (no link, sadly – subscription only), so if it’s okay with all of you I’m going to go ahead and broadcast this review of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND in full. To wit:

Slaughter’s Hound. By Declan Burke. Mar. 2013. 384p. Dufour/Liberties, paper, $24.95 (9781907593499).

Honest jobs are hard to come by when you’re released from a mental institution after killing your brother. So Harry Rigby gets by driving a cab and delivering drugs in the Irish town of Sligo. One of his best customers is former cellmate Finn Hamilton--until the night Finn drops onto Harry’s cab from his ninth-story balcony. The police are very interested in what Harry saw that night, as are Finn’s pregnant girlfriend, patrician (and terrifying) mother, and his possibly insane teenage sister. A master of situational ethics, Harry initially has no problem getting paid to retrieve certain items from Finn’s apartment. It turns out, though, that Harry’s not the only one nosing around. He tries to keep his ex-wife and son out of the investigation, but his two worlds can’t help bleeding into one another. Burke (Absolute Zero Cool, 2012) has always been known for black humor, and he has found a wonderful new outlet for it in Harry Rigby. -- Karen Keefe

  Incidentally, if there’s anyone out there who would like to receive an e-friendly review copy of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND or its predecessor EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, please feel free to drop me a line at dbrodb[at]gmail.com. And if the spirit moves you to click the Twitter or Facebook link below, I would be very grateful indeed.

An Exceedingly Bleak Ride

For some reason I was under the impression that SLAUGHTER’S HOUND was released in North America last November, but apparently not. For lo! Publishers Weekly reckons it’s not available until March, and I’m not about to argue with the mighty PW. That august journal reviewed SLAUGHTER’S HOUND a couple of weeks ago, with the gist looking a lot like this:

Fans of Ken Bruen in particular, and noir fans in general, should get on board for this exceedingly bleak ride through Sligo from Irish author Burke (ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL). Taxi driver and occasional drug-transporter Harry Rigby, who did time for killing his brother in cold blood, has the misfortune to witness his friend and former cellmate, Finn Hamilton, dive off a nine-story building and pierce the roof of Harry’s cab with explosive results. Finn’s fatal plunge leaves Harry on the hook to powerful gangster Ross McConnell for missing weed. On the plus side, Finn’s mother, Saoirse Hamilton, is willing to pay Harry big bucks to find Finn’s suicide note (if there is one). Harry’s strained personal relationships deteriorate as he gets sucked further into the tangled affairs of the Hamiltons. Relentlessly brutal actions, rampant corruption, and scamming are all described in prose both scabrous and poetic. Agent: Allan Guthrie, Jenny Brown Associates (U.K.). (Mar.)

  So there you have it. SLAUGHTER’S HOUND: Bruenesque, scabrous and poetic, and an exceedingly bleak ride. Leaving aside the fact that a ‘ride’ means two totally different things in the US and Sligo, I’ve been called a lot worse in my time …

The Gosling Has Landed

It’s been something of a quiet week on Crime Always Pays, largely because I’ve bought a new computer and I’m currently engaged in a technological version of mutually assured destruction with Windows 8, to the victor the spoils, etc.
  Other than the minor mental breakdown, however, it’s been a pretty decent week for yours truly. SLAUGHTER’S HOUND was reviewed last weeked in the Sunday Independent, with the gist running thusly:

“[Harry Rigby] journeys through this twisting, turning yarn with a semi-concealed propensity for ultra-violence, like a more lippy, chain-smoking version of Ryan Gosling’s character in Drive. He shoots to kill, beats to a pulp and even gets imaginative with a lit cigar and an eyeball … Aside from the mischief and black humour, the dialogue is just as smoky … this is perfectly pitched, rhythmic crime speech that lounges about the page … The denouement may be mucky and rather fatalistic, but it could only be so. Angels are hard to come by in Burke’s noir wonderland.” – Hilary White, Sunday Independent

  With which, as you can imagine, I was very quietly pleased. For the rest, clickety-click here …
  Indeed, the last couple of weeks have been very good to my humble tomes, with SLAUGHTER’S HOUND and ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL turning up in more than a few end-of-year Best Of … lists. I don’t have a link to the Sunday Times one, sadly, but the rest look like this:

http://wwwshotsmagcouk.blogspot.ie/2013/01/my-favourite-books-of-2012.html
http://www.elizabethawhite.com/category/top10-2012/#.UOvbpeTtTTo
http://januarymagazine.blogspot.ie/2012/12/best-books-of-2012-crime-fiction-part-i.html
http://danaking.blogspot.ie/

  So there you have it. All going well, I’ll have wrassled Windows 8 into a half-nelson submission in the next day or so, when normal-ish service will be resumed. Don’t say you weren’t warned …

On Good Readers As The Greatest Reward

I’m quite fond of the notion that a book is only half-written by its author, and that it only begins to come alive when someone turns the first page and starts to read. It follows, then, that a book is only as good as its readers allow it to be - although it’s also true, as a kind of corollary, that an especially attentive and receptive reader may make a book better than it actually is.
  Such is the case, I fear, with the reviews SLAUGHTER’S HOUND picked up during the past week, with three readers picking up on different aspects of the novel. To wit:

“This is a dark tale, and it gets progressively darker as it goes along. In the middle, it reminded me a bit of Ross Macdonald, and also of his Irish literary descendent, Declan Hughes, with its tale of doomed families and the ruin that attends them. But there is a kind of go-for-broke quality to this book that I haven’t really found in the aforementioned illustrious writers’ work, and it took me till nearly the end of the book to realize that Burke has laid it all out for us in the very title of the work, and in a helpful author’s epigram, in which he notes that the great warrior Cú Chulainn’s name really means Hound of Ulster and that he owned a number of war hounds called archú, who were known for their love of slaughter … It is a tale steeped in the tradition of the Irish myth cycles, where deeds are great, but, well, bloody.” - Seana Graham

“This novel is a tragedy, which takes place in a town called Sligo, a location that could be Thebes or any other place in the world where the frailties of good men and women are exploited by the eternal cynics and they become the playthings of the gods, where a man can sleep with his mother without knowing she is his mother or kill his father without knowing whom he is killing, and be punished as if he had knowingly committed the two heinous crimes. As he twists and turns in the nets that have been set for him, the hero’s every good intention or action goes wrong, and Harry Rigby reminds you at times of Job and at other times of Oedipus. His every decent human trait, such as loyalty or friendship, is exploited by the people around him and each betrayal plunges him a little further into the circles of hell … Highly recommended.” - John J. Gaynard

“SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is yet another ‘How the hell does he do that?’ offering from author Declan Burke, whose book ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL has already secured a spot on my Top 10 Reads of 2012 list. More than just a crime fiction / noir novel, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND vividly brings to life the post-investment boom hangover much of Ireland is experiencing, personified by the Hamilton family. Once obscenely wealthy, the family is now teetering on financial ruin and, as Rigby learns, also has some incredibly dark secrets stashed away in the closet along with the skeletons. Lead by its ice princess matriarch, Saoirse, the Hamiltons add a Shakespearean level of drama, complete with a conniving attorney.
  “The story which unfolds is a beautiful balance of tremendous heart and horrific violence.” - Elizabeth A. White

  As you can imagine, that’s all very pleasing indeed.

I was certainly aiming, with SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, to splice together aspects of modern noir and classical tragedy, not least because the forms have so much in common. As Seana and Elizabeth point out, I was riffing on the motif of ‘doomed families’ that feature in the work of Ross Macdonald and Declan Hughes, although I’d be the first to say that SH comes up very short by comparison with both. Seana also mentions the epigram at the beginning of the book, and its reference to the Irish myth cycles, and I was conscious of that historical narrative too; but for a very long time, as John Gaynard detected, the epigram for SLAUGHTER’S HOUND came courtesy of Horace Kallen, from his intriguing THE BOOK OF JOB AS A GREEK TRAGEDY, which I wrote about here last January.
  So there you have it. Apologies for the trumpet-blowing, folks, but there are days, many days, when writing offers precious few tangible rewards. Good readers, on the other hand, are the greatest reward any writer can hope for.

On Bottling The Spirit Of Raymond Chandler

We may not have brought home the proverbial bacon from the Irish Book Awards on Thursday night, losing out in the Crime Novel category to Tana French’s excellent BROKEN HARBOUR, but it’s fair to say that the weekend wasn’t entirely wasted. On Thursday, the Irish Times published a Christmas gifts supplement, in which a number of writers were asked to suggest books as presents. BROKEN HARBOUR was among Marian Keyes’ picks, as was THE LAST GIRL by Jane Casey and GONE GIRL by Gillian Flynn, although she opened up, bless her cotton socks, with SLAUGHTER’S HOUND. To wit:

“SLAUGHTER’S HOUND starts with a body diving from a building and a car exploding, and the action doesn’t let up until the last line. But what sets this novel apart is its tone, which is being called ‘Irish noir’: it’s dead-pan and sardonic, and although it’s often very, very funny, this is a grim and gritty read.” - Marian Keyes, Irish Times

  I was, as you can imagine, absolutely delighted by that - it does ye olde confidence no harm at all to have a writer of Marian Keyes’ calibre say such things.
  In the same section, incidentally, John Connolly picked CREOLE BELLE by James Lee Burke, LIVE BY NIGHT by Dennis Lehane and HHhH by Laurence Binet - with all of which I heartily concur.
  Then, today, the Sunday Times published its annual selection of the year’s finest books, and lo! SLAUGHTER’S HOUND popped up in the ‘standout works of genre fiction’, being the Crime Fiction choice. To wit:

“It takes a writer of rare skill to make modern-day Sligo feel like 1940s California, but Declan Burke has clearly bottled the spirit of Raymond Chandler for SLAUGHTER’S HOUND. When Harry Rigby sees his best friend dive off a building onto his taxi - blowing up a load of grass in the process - the former private eye is launched into a dark, twisting screwball caper of gang bosses, a rich family in the clutches of Nama, a fiery Cypriot beauty, and a very unsympathetic detective.” - Kristoffer Mullin, Sunday Times

  So there you have it. SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, by the way, has just been published in the US and Canada, and has picked up four five-star reviews to date. If you’ve read the book and liked it, and have the time and inclination to say so, I’d really appreciate your review over here. I thank you kindly …

Get It On, Bang A Gong …

The warmest of congratulations to all the authors shortlisted for gongs at the Irish Book Awards launch last Thursday. It’s no easy thing, writing a book; and it’s harder still these days to get a book published. To write it well enough that it is recognised as worthy of a prize is certainly worth celebrating.
  It’s fair to say, I think, that the books nominated in the Crime Fiction category caused a number of finely plucked eyebrows to be raised at CAP Towers. Herewith be the list:

VENGEANCE by Benjamin Black.
SLAUGHTER’S HOUND by Declan Burke.
BROKEN HARBOUR by Tana French.
THE ISTANBUL PUZZLE by Laurence O’Bryan.
TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT by Niamh O’Connor.
RED RIBBONS by Louise Phillips.

  Some of the crime fans I’ve spoken with have expressed surprise that two debut novels - by Laurence O’Bryan and Louise Phillips - made it onto the list, especially as there is a category dedicated to Newcomer of the Year, although I’d be inclined to applaud the fact that the judges were prepared to include books by newly minted authors (I was lucky enough to have my debut, EIGHTBALL BOOGIE, shortlisted for the Irish Book Awards when it came out in 2003). Besides, it looks like 2012 might well go down as a particularly quirky year for the Irish Book Awards - the Best Novel category, for example, contains no less than three collections of short stories, by Emma Donoghue, Joseph O’Connor and Kevin Barry.
  It might also be argued that Keith Ridgway’s HAWTHORN & CHILD and Marian Keyes’ THE MYSTERY OF MERCY CLOSE should have been nominated in the Crime Fiction category rather than Best Novel and Popular Fiction, respectively.
  Back with the Crime Fiction category, there are some glaring absences - although to be fair, I have no idea if any of the following books were even submitted for consideration. That said, a potential alternative shortlist would be a rather impressive thing, comprised of the following:

BLOOD LOSS by Alex Barclay.
A JUNE OF ORDINARY MURDERS by Conor Brady.
THE LAST GIRL by Jane Casey.
THE NAMESAKE by Conor Fitzgerald.
THE NAMELESS DEAD by Brian McGilloway.
THE COLD COLD GROUND by Adrian McKinty.

  There were also very fine novels this year from Michael Clifford (GHOST TOWN), Claire McGowan (THE FALL), Casey Hill (TORN), Matt McGuire (DARK DAWN) and Anthony Quinn (DISAPPEARED).
  As for the actual Crime Fiction list, I was particularly pleased to see Niamh O’Connor finally receive the recognition she deserves. I was also very pleased to find my own name there, as you may imagine, especially as SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is a very different book to my previous offering, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, which was also nominated last year. Mind you, I’ve said all along this year that it’ll take a hell of a book to beat Tana French’s BROKEN HARBOUR, and given that the only Irish crime novel capable of doing so - Adrian McKinty’s THE COLD COLD GROUND - hasn’t been shortlisted, I’d imagine that Tana French will be scooping the gong on November 22nd.
  So there it is - my two cents on the IBA Crime Fiction shortlist. If anyone has any thoughts, the comment box is open …

On Chandler, Proust And Spliff

I’ve had a busy old time of it lately, what with all the demands that I sprawl on couches the better to be fed grapes and ambrosia and nectar and whatnot, so I’ve been a little neglectful of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND (Liberties Press), which has been picking up some rather nice reviews over the last couple of weeks. To wit:

“Burke tells his darkly propulsive tale in a fine-tuned, staccato-like narrative voice … bleakly engaging.” - Sunday Business Post

“Tight, witty, sharp as a nail and stunning … SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is just an absolute pleasure to read.” - Ayo Onotade, Shots Magazine

“It’s not easy to bring something new to the private-eye novel but Declan Burke rises to the challenge with panache in SLAUGHTER’S HOUND … The book opens with what may well be the longest sentence in crime fiction — where Proust meets Chandler over a pint of Guinness, with a large spliff on the side. Burke is an author who takes risks, makes you laugh and writes like an angel with a devilish sense of humour.” - Andrew Taylor, The Spectator

  All of which is, as you might imagine, hugely satisfying to my insatiable ego.

Meanwhile, BOOKS TO DIE FOR, which I co-edited with John Connolly, has also been picking up some very nice reviews following its publication in the US, with the gist running thusly:

“An engaging, erudite and substantial anthology about the ‘world’s greatest mystery novels.’” - Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

“This volume is indispensable … an absolute must for everyone’s personal library.” - Book Reporter

“Delightful … it serves as both a primer on the evolution of the genre and an escort into its remoter corners.” - Kirkus Reviews

“A sumptuous exploration of some of the best mystery authors of our time that showcases their passion for writing and their heartfelt tributes to their fellow writers. It is a resource readers will want to keep for decades.” - Miami Herald

  I really am delighted to see that BTDF is being so well received, given that it was such a labour of love.
  In other news, I’ll be taking part in the Irish Writers’ Centre ‘Peregrine Readings’ series alongside Arlene Hunt this coming week, which should be a lot of fun. The dates and venues are as follows:

Tuesday 23rd October, Irish Writers’ Centre, Dublin, 7.30pm
Wednesday 24th October, Tramore Library, Co. Waterford, 7pm
Thursday 25th October, Triskel, Christchurch, Co. Cork, 8pm

  If you’re likely to be in the vicinity of any of those venues this week, I’d love to see you there …

SLAUGHTER’S HOUND: And So It Begins

The first review of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND arrives, courtesy of Barry Forshaw at Crime Time, and it’s fair to say that I’m quietly pleased. Quoth Mr Forshaw:

“Take a deep breath before this one. The acclaim that greeted Declan Burke’s adroit ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL is almost certainly to be replicated for his latest book, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, which arrives bearing an encomium from no less than Lee Child (as well as a striking jacket which rather cheekily lifts motifs from the designer Saul Bass – but then everyone does that.) Burke’s protagonist, the world-weary Harry Rigby, is witness to a suicide – a suicide which may be part of an Irish national epidemic. And in Harry Rigby’s Sligo, life can be very cheap, as Harry is to be reminded in the most forceful of terms.
  “Those familiar with Burke’s work will know what to expect here: that wry and sardonic authorial voice, married to a particularly idiosyncratic command of dialogue. In some ways, perhaps, it’s the latter which marks Burke out from what is rapidly turning into an unstoppable juggernaut of new Irish crime fiction.” - Barry Forshaw, Crime Time

  I have a theory that the first review of a book tends to set the tone for what is to come, and if that’s the case then hopefully SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is set fair.
  Meanwhile, I was interviewed about SLAUGHTER’S HOUND on RTE’s Arena radio arts programme during the week. It’s not that long an interview, maybe 15 minutes, but it felt like aaaaaaages. I do love talking about books, any kind of books, as anyone I’ve ever bored to death will testify. Talking about my own books? Not so much. Anyway, if you’re interested in hearing my dulcet tones, and the honey-latte voice of Arena presenter Edel Coffey, you can find said interview here …
  Speaking of Edel Coffey, the very same lady will be hosting a chat between Ken Griffin and I at Electric Picnic this afternoon, in the Literary Tent in the Mindfield Area. It’s a nice line-up of writers, actually - John Banville, Keith Ridgway, Claire Kilroy, Eoin Colfer, Roddy Doyle and Ann Enright are some of the word-wranglers who’ll be taking part. Should be good fun, and it’s even promised to be sunny …
  Finally, for a very short opening excerpt from SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, clickety-click here …

BOOKS TO DIE FOR: The Witch Speaks

Off to Belfast today with yours truly, for the Norn Iron launch of BOOKS TO DIE FOR, John Connolly’s THE WRATH OF ANGELS, and mine own SLAUGHTER’S HOUND. It should be a cracking evening. If you’re likely to be in the vicinity this evening, we’d love to see you. The details run thusly:

Thursday, August 30 at 6:30 p.m.
Belfast, Northern Ireland
Belfast launch of THE WRATH OF ANGELS, BOOKS TO DIE FOR, and SLAUGHTER’S HOUND by Declan Burke
The Ulster Museum
Botanic Gardens, Belfast
Tickets Available from No Alibis Bookstore—free event!
44 (0) 28 9031 9601
Email: david@noalibis.com

  Meanwhile, over at the Book Witch’s lair, Madame Witch has been casting her critical eye over said tome, BTDF. To wit:

“Declan Burke and John Connolly have worked on a real must-have book for crime lovers and others who are thinking of entering the world of crime. They, and over a hundred of their crime writing peers, have got together to write essays – admirably short ones, at that – on the ‘greatest mystery novels ever written’ and it is wonderful beyond words.
  “The contents pages read like a Who’s Who, and I have been dipping in and out, trying to decide whether to pick essays about people I like, or by people I like, or about books I know and love. Or just go for the odd ones where I’ve never heard of either the novelist or the essay writing fan.”

  Ms Witch, we thank you kindly. I do hope we have the pleasure of your company in Manchester next month …
  Finally, over at Shotsmag, the lovely Ayo Onatade hosts an interview with John and I about the exquisite pleasure (koff) it was putting BOOKS TO DIE FOR together. Was Charles Dickens really the most surprising inclusion? For all the inside skinny, clickety-click here …

Laddies Who Launch

A busy week hoves over the horizon, with a number of book-related events piling up at the far end. First we’re off to Belfast on Thursday to launch BOOKS TO DIE FOR in the Ulster Museum, along with John Connolly’s THE WRATH OF ANGELS and mine own SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, all of which will take place under the watchful eye of David Torrans of No Alibis.
  Then it’s back to Dublin on Friday, where John launches THE WRATH OF ANGELS at The Gutter Bookshop in Temple Bar. Should be a cracker.
  On Saturday, I’m off to the Electric Picnic to do an event with Ken Griffin, which I am very much looking forward to. Given that the Picnic is an outdoor music festival, and pretty much takes place in the biggest field I’ve ever seen, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the weather report for sunny conditions holds. Otherwise it’ll be like the bloody Ploughing Championships down there. And welly-boots are not a good look for yours truly.
  Back to BOOKS TO DIE FOR, though. The book’s web lair has for the last week or so been featuring short videos from some of the contributors about their choice for BTDF, including pieces from Julia Spencer-Fleming, Meg Gardiner, Lee Child and Katherine Howell. For more, clickety-click here …
  Meanwhile, here’s a sample, this from Linwood Barclay, who talks about why he picked Ross Macdonald’s THE GOODBYE LOOK and his personal relationship with Ross Macdonald. Roll it there, Collette …

Cry Havoc, And Let Slip The Hound Of Slaughter

And so was launched the good ship SS SLAUGHTER’S HOUND at Hodges Figgis last night, the pic above coming courtesy of the good folk at Portnoy Publishing. I have to say I was a little bit stunned - and delighted, naturally - at the turnout. As I said on the night, there’s a kind of double terror that comes with launching a book, the first being that no one will turn up, the second being that people will actually turn up, so that you have no choice but to go ahead and read out loud. But the marvellous support and goodwill in Hodges Figgis made all the nerves worthwhile.
  Heartfelt thanks to everyone who came along, it was truly wonderful to see you all. And thanks too to everyone who got in touch to say they couldn’t make it, but who passed on their good wishes. We’re hugely grateful to Liam and Steven, for taking care of us so well at Hodges Figgis, and I’d like to personally thank the good folk at Liberties Press, but particularly Caroline and Alice, who made the night run like clockwork.
  I need to run off out into the real world to start earning a living again now, so I’ll keep this one short. Next stop Belfast, next Thursday, August 30th, for the launch of BOOKS TO DIE FOR, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND and John Connolly’s THE WRATH OF ANGELS. It might well be epic …

On Horses And Hounds

The fine detail has yet to be finessed, but it appears that I will be appearing at the Electric Picnic music festival on Saturday week with one Ken Griffin.
  Said Ken Griffin, as all Three Regular Readers will be aware, was kind enough to allow me to use some lyrics from Rollerskate Skinny ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ album. It’s an album I’ve loved ever since I first heard it way back in the mid-1990s, a ground-breaking and earth-shattering piece of work from four Dublin lads that is my perennial contender for Best Irish Album of All Time - and yes, I’m very fond of ‘Astral Weeks’, too.
  ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ was hugely influential for me, and was as important an experience in my becoming a writer as any book or author. At the time I was harbouring ambitions of being a writer, or of writing a novel, at least, but the books I most loved reading were the hardboiled American crime novels.
  And then along came ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’. It was a revelation. The fact that you were born Irish didn’t necessarily mean you had to sound Irish; in fact, you could, if you so wished, sound like nothing that had gone before.
  In retrospect, ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ was perhaps not as unique as it sounded at the time. It stands up, though, and sounds as fresh today as it did fifteen years or so ago.
  Fast-forward to when I was writing SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, and getting badly stuck. By accident, with no preconceived plan, I slipped ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ into the CD player one day. It was a cathartic experience, as if a crack had been hammered in the dam. So much so that ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ became integral to the plot, and the characterisation. If the book ends up with a tenth of that album’s energy, attitude and originality, I’ll be very happy indeed.
  Having quoted some of the lyrics, however, I now needed to get in touch with Ken Griffin and see if he’d allow me to use them, and how much he might charge if he did. When I tracked him down, the answer came back immediately: Yes, and no charge.
  I was incredibly pleased. Not just that I was allowed use the lyrics, but that Ken Griffin, who now lives in New York and fronts the band Favourite Sons, was a very rare kind of humble genius.
  And then, this morning, when I set out to write this piece, the whole deal became just a little bit more complex. Using the search function to track down a quote or two I’d used in SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, I discovered that I gave a talk about my debut novel, EIGHT BALL BOOGIE, way back in 2003, during the course of which I credited Rollerskate Skinny’s ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ with being a major influence on my becoming a writer.
  Further, I discovered an outtake from ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, which suggests that I’d been playing ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’ quite a lot during the writing of that book too. For those familiar with the story, Karlsson takes his long-suffering girlfriend Cassie for a midnight drive out to the back of Benbulben, where they climb up to a cave at the top of a valley reputed to be one of the places used by the star-crossed lovers Diarmuid and Grainne. Karlsson carries with him a portable stereo. Now read on:

  I suggest that the valley opens out as if its steep walls were curtains parted by the invisible hands of a damsel distressed in her tower. Cassie is unimpressed. She studies her broken nail. ‘Whatever, K. Let’s just get this over with. And it better be fucking worth it.’
  I shrug, roll a joint. We smoke it. I roll another, then move further back into the cave and set up the stereo on a flat rock. Rollerskate Skinny’s Horsedrawn Wishes is ready to go. I engage the superbass, jack the volume up to 11 and press play.
  The acoustics provided by a cave forty feet high by thirty feet across really have to be heard to be believed. Hermits didn’t live in caves for the central heating. The music booms out past Cassie into the long narrow valley and she jerks, her shoulders stiffening. The valley walls bounce the sounds back into the middle, and there they clash like invisible mediaeval armies. The clanking crash of amour crushed, the whinnies of terrified steeds, the grinding of axe on shield. Bellows, oaths, yodelled screams. This is only the opening track, Swingboat Yawning.
  I sit on the flat boulder beside Cassie. Her eyes are closed. A tear hangs poised at the corner of each. This may or may not be joy made manifest. This may or may not be despair unrestrained. I spark the second jay as Cradle Burns kicks in. It gallops away down the valley like the Four Horsemen startled. Already, far out to sea, the horizon lightens. Somewhere down there in the hazy grey porridge of dawn farmers are waking to discover their nightmares are real.
  One Thousand Couples ignites behind us. It hesitates, gathering momentum like a rocket boosting its afterburners. It explodes. The entire valley rumbles. Cassie shouts something in my ear. I cannot hear her, but she seems happy and so I nod. Speed to my Side begins with a primitive arregligious chanting. My circuits spark, spit and fritz. I trip out. I am gone, streaming past the fading stars, moving at a tangent to time.
  When Bell Jars Away fades into silence, Cassie leans in and engages me in a long, luscious kiss. She opens her eyes, then draws back in mock protest. ‘Hey, you kept your eyes open.’
  I nod. ‘I will never again sacrifice even one opportunity to look upon your face.’
  Her eyes widen. She smiles, lazy and slow. Her eyebrows flicker. More than anything else, my words appear to have aroused her curiosity. I feel a pang in my chest, but this only reminds me of how much I have already purged.

  So there you have it. If you’re around at Electric Picnic on Saturday, September 1st, be sure to drop by the Literary Tent, where I’ll be pretty much stalking the great Ken Griffin, and Ken will be playing some acoustic numbers from ‘Horsedrawn Wishes’, and whatever else takes his fancy. In the meantime, here’s the very fine ‘Speed to my Side’ to give you an idea of what Rollerskate Skinny were all about. Roll it there, Collette …

Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

A trumpet-parp please, maestro. The launch isn’t until Wednesday, but SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is officially published today, August 20th, by the ever-lovely Liberties Press. What say the blurb elves?

‘I glanced up but he’d already jumped, a dark blur plummeting, wings folded against the drag like some starving hawk out of the noon sun, some angel betrayed. He punched through the cab’s roof so hard he sent metal shearing into the petrol tank. All it took was one spark. Boom …’

Harry Rigby is right there, an eye-witness when Finn Hamilton walks out into the big nothing nine stories up, but no one wants to believe Finn is just the latest statistic in Ireland’s silent epidemic. Not Finn’s mother, Saoirse Hamilton, whose property empire is crumbling around her; and not Finn’s pregnant fiancé, Maria, or his sister Grainne; and especially not Detective Tohill, the cop who believes Rigby is a stone-cold killer, a slaughter’s hound with a taste for blood …

Welcome to Harry Rigby’s Sligo, where death comes dropping slow.

Studded with shards of black humour and mordant wit, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is a gripping noir from one of the most innovative voices in Irish crime fiction.

“Everything you could want - action, suspense, character and setting, all floating on the easy lyricism of a fine writer at the top of his game.” - Lee Child

“SLAUGHTER’S HOUND has everything you want from noir but what makes it special is the writing: taut, honed and vivid … a sheer pleasure.” - Tana French

  So there you have it. If you’re in the general vicinity of Dublin on Wednesday evening, please feel free to come along to the launch. It takes place at 6.30pm in Hodges Figgis, Dawson Street, Dublin 2, and I’d love to see you there.
  Meanwhile, for a snifter of Chapter One, clickety-click here …

Slaughter’s Hound: Bell Jars Away

As all Three Regular Readers will be aware, yours truly has a new novel published later this month, said tome rejoicing in the subtle title (too subtle, perhaps?) SLAUGHTER’S HOUND. It opens up a lot like this:

1.

It was rare fine night for a stroll down by the docks, the moon plump as a new pillow in an old-fashioned hotel and the undertow in the turning tide swushing its ripples silvery-green and a bird you’ve never heard before chirring its homesick tale of a place you might once have known and most likely now will never see, mid-June and almost midnight and balmy yet, the kind of evening built for a long walk with a woman who likes to take long walks and not say very much, and that little in a murmur you have to strain to catch, her laughter low and throaty, her humour dry and favouring lewd, eyes like smoky mirrors of the vast night sky and in them twinkles that might be stars reflecting or the first sparks of intentions that you’d better fan with soft words and a gentle touch in just the right place or spend the rest of your life and maybe forever wondering what might have been, all for the want of a soft word and a touch gentle and true.
  It was that kind of evening, alright. That kind of place.
  You ever find yourself there, say something soft, and be gentle, and true.
  Me, I found myself hunched over the charred dwarf that had once been Finn Hamilton, parts of him still sizzling in a marinade of oily flesh and melting tar, and all around the rank stench of singing hair and burnt petrol, seared pork.
  Midnight, and balmy yet.
  I’d seen him jump. Pacing the yard below, phone clamped to my ear. ‘Listen, Ben, she’s under pressure at work, okay? You need to take that on -- What? Yeah, I know. But look, sometimes your mum says things she --’
  I heard him, first. Faint but clear from nine stories high.
  ‘Bell jars away …’
  From instinct I glanced up with the next line already forming, let’s be fearless with our promises, but by then he’d jumped, a dark blur plummeting, wings folded against the drag like some starving hawk out of the noon sun, some angel betrayed.
  I guess he punched through the cab’s roof so hard he sent metal shearing into the petrol tank. All it took was one spark.
  Boom …
  The blast smashed me ten feet into a heap of scrap metal, left me deafened and half blind, limbs rubbery as I scrabbled around ripping my hands on rusty steel. Stunned and flopping in the aftermath of a quake that tore my insides apart
  lie down stay down
  lungs pounded by hammers O Jesus breathe, breathe and a roaring in the ears of blood tortured to a scream
  ‘Dad?’
  coming tinny and distant
  ‘Dad? Are you there?’
  the phone two feet and a million miles away, dirt thick in my teeth
  ‘I think you’re breaking up, Dad …’
  and the taste of roasting flesh and metal thick on my tongue.
  A hot knife pierced my ribs as I reached for the phone.
  ‘Ben?’ A harsh grating. ‘Ring you back, Ben.’
  I lurched to my feet on spongy knees and stumbled across the yard towards the blaze. The air all a-shimmer so that his feet looked submerged, some weirdly wavering polyps. One of his moccasins came away as I pulled him free and at first I thought I’d ripped him in half. Then I thought he’d dropped a dwarf on the cab. Strange the things you think when you’re trying not to think at all, dragging a man from a torched wreck and his flesh frying in lumps on the melting tar.
  As I twisted my head, guts already heaving, I realised why he seemed so short.
  He’d dived, come down arrow-straight, in the final instant pulling back his arms so that the impact drove his head and shoulders back up into his chest. There was still some remnant of what had once been his neck but the head had pulped like so much ripe melon.
  I puked until the heaves came dry and then rang it in. Globs of grey grease spitting on the cab’s skeletal frame.

  So there you have it. The book launches on August 22nd, by the way, at Hodges Figgis on Dawson Street, Dublin 2. If you’re in the vicinity, I’d love to see you there.
  Meanwhile, for those of you curious about the origin of the lyrics briefly quoted above, they’re from ‘Bell Jars Away’, courtesy of the immortal Rollerskate Skinny. Roll it there, Collette …

The Hound Of The Launchervilles

I mentioned last week that Liberties Press will this month publish my latest novel, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, said tome being a Harry Rigby mystery. It’s going to be an interesting time, I think, because SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is a more traditional kind of crime novel than was my last offering, ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, which played around with narrative and character and was something of a meta-fiction.
  SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, on the other hand, is a private eye story - at least, Harry Rigby starts out as a private eye, or ‘research consultant’, in EIGHT BALL BOOGIE, which was first published in 2003 and is being republished by Liberties complete with a gorgeous new cover.
  So I’m a little bit nervous, I have to say, as to how SLAUGHTER’S HOUND will be received. AZC garnered some very nice reviews from people who liked the fact that it wasn’t a traditional crime novel, and I’m hoping that those people won’t be disappointed by the fact that SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is. In fact, I may start taking bets as to how long it’ll take for a review to conclude with the words, “ … but unfortunately, this book is all bark and no bite.”
  Mind you, if it wasn’t that then I’d be nervous about something else. Publishing a book is one of the most wonderful and simultaneously nerve-wracking experiences there is. And on top of all that there’s BOOKS TO DIE FOR, which I co-edit with John Connolly, and which also hits a shelf near you later this month.
  Good times …
  And now, a trumpet-parp please, maestro. For lo! It is my very great pleasure to announce that the Dublin launch of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND will take place on Wednesday the 22nd of August at 6.30pm, at Hodges Figgis on Dawson Street, Dublin 2.
  If you’re able to get along, it really would be terrific to see you there.
  Meanwhile, on August 30, I’ll be in Belfast’s Ulster Museum with John Connolly for the three-way launch of BOOKS TO DIE FOR, John’s latest Charlie Parker novel THE WRATH OF ANGELS, and SLAUGHTER’S HOUND. The event takes place at 6.30pm, and is a free-but-ticketed event - to book a ticket, call David at No Alibis on 44 (0) 28 9031 9601, or email david@noalibis.com.
  So there you have it. Feel free to RSVP for the Dublin launch in the comment box below. Or, y’know, just turn up on the night and surprise us all …

Cry Havoc, Etc.

I crave an indulgence, good people, for today I will be mostly plugging my forthcoming tome, aka SLAUGHTER’S HOUND, which is a sequel to my first novel, EIGHT BALL BOOGIE. It will be published by Liberties Press, the very fine publishing house responsible for ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL, and the Liberties blurb elves have been wittering thusly:

‘I glanced up but he’d already jumped, a dark blur plummeting, wings folded against the drag like some starving hawk out of the noon sun, some angel betrayed. He punched through the cab’s roof so hard he sent metal shearing into the petrol tank. All it took was one spark. Boom …’

Harry Rigby is right there, an eye-witness when Finn Hamilton walks out into the big nothing nine stories up, but no one wants to believe Finn is just the latest statistic in Ireland’s silent epidemic. Not Finn’s mother, Saoirse Hamilton, whose property empire is crumbling around her; and not Finn’s pregnant fiancé, Maria, or his sister Grainne; and especially not Detective Tohill, the cop who believes Rigby is a stone-cold killer, a slaughter’s hound with a taste for blood …

Welcome to Harry Rigby’s Sligo, where death comes dropping slow.

Studded with shards of black humour and mordant wit, SLAUGHTER’S HOUND is a gripping noir from one of the most innovative voices in Irish crime fiction.

  So there you have it. Meanwhile, two of the planet’s finest crime writers have been kind enough to offer an actual blurb, with the gist running a lot like this:

“Everything you could want - action, suspense, character and setting, all floating on the easy lyricism of a fine writer at the top of his game.” - Lee Child

“SLAUGHTER’S HOUND has everything you want from noir but what makes it special is the writing: taut, honed and vivid … a sheer pleasure.” - Tana French

  With which, as you may imagine, I am very well pleased …

  In tandem with the SLAUGHTER’S HOUND publication, Liberties Press will also be republishing EIGHT BALL BOOGIE. When first published, way back in 2003, said tome was shortlisted for the Irish Book Awards in the crime fiction category, and managed to pick up some nice reviews for itself in the process. That was about as far as it went for EIGHT BALL, so it’d be nice to think that it might reach a slightly bigger audience this time around.
  Before I forget, I really should mention that the covers were designed for Liberties Press by Fidelma Slattery, and a very fine job it is too.
  So there you have it. I’ll be telling you more - much more, I’m afraid - in the weeks running up to the launch of SLAUGHTER’S HOUND next month, so don’t say you haven’t been warned …