‘Pulp Fiction with an Irish twist’Fra? The pints of Pimms are on us.
“With his debut, Eight Ball Boogie, Sligo man Burke was heralded as an invigorating force for Irish crime fiction. What distinguished his writing was the sharp, whip-crack dialogue and meticulous plotting. Both traits remain much in evidence with The Big O … With all his pieces in place, Burke proceeds to move and manipulate with all the precision of a chess grandmaster … Each has their own unique voice, the multiplicity of perspectives adding real texture to the story … [The] pace is maintained through intuitive, engaging dialogue. There is a sense of wit and liveliness to the speech that fosters a feeling of authenticity, Burke achieving the not insignificant feat of creating characters who speak as people really do, rather than as writers feel they ought … With its precision engineered plot, oodles of incident and moments of rampant hilarity, The Big O displays a particularly filmic sensibility, part film noir, part Pulp Fiction – but totally entertaining.”
“Burke shows again that he’s not just a comic genius, but also a fine dramatic writer and storyteller.” – Booklist. “Prose both scabrous and poetic.” – Publishers Weekly. “Proust meets Chandler over a pint of Guinness.” – Spectator. “A sheer pleasure.” – Tana French. “Among the most memorable books of the year, of any genre.” – Sunday Times. “A hardboiled delight.” – Guardian. “Imagine Donald Westlake and Richard Stark collaborating on a screwball noir.” – Kirkus Reviews. “A cross between Raymond Chandler and Flann O’Brien.” – John Banville. “The effortless cool of Elmore Leonard at his peak.” – Ray Banks. “A fine writer at the top of his game.” – Lee Child.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The Embiggened O # 2,307: Damn The Trumpets, We’re Going To Need Flugelhorns
Crikey! Two reviews for our humble offering The Big O in the space of a week? We couldn’t be more spoiled were we face down in a pyramid of Ferrero Rocher at some ambassador’s knees-up. Fra Jones over at Verbal magazine (edited by Running Mates maestro Garbhan Downey, fact fiends) outdid himself with the blush-making prose, offering a lengthy appraisal of The Big O (pictured, Big P pretending he can read and Lil’ Eva loving the back-page blurbio). We’ve had to cut the review down for reasons of space and because Fra was mercilessly efficient at spotting the rather ropey parts of the book too, but as Homer would say, get to the good stuff, to wit: