“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. “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.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Embiggened O # 403: Trumpets? We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Trumpets!

No indeedy, because it’s official: we’re made. The Irish Times gave us the hup-ya on Saturday, and when The Old Lady bestows her beneficence, it’s ambrosia and nectar all the way to the Pearly Gates. Anyway, seeing as yon Old Lady insists on subscription only, here’s the full latte skinny, as it were:
“Declan Burke’s The Big O carries on the tradition of Irish noir with its Elmore Leonard-like style. Here the dialogue is as slick as an ice run, the plot is nicely intricate, and the character drawing is spot on. There is a large list of folk involved, from Karen, who does stick-ups, through Rossi, who is Joe Pesci to a T if the book is ever filmed, through Ray, the phlegmatic hostage keeper, through Frank, who wants his ex-wife kidnapped, through Detective Doyle, who is on the lookout for a man, and through Anna, who is a large dog. Throw them all into the mix and the result is a high-octane novel that fairly coruscates with tension.”
‘Coruscates’, eh? Now that right there is a seriously classy verb.

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