“THE BIG O is a very entertaining crime novel. It’s fast-moving, it has snappy dialogue, and it’s wickedly funny. It’s told in short chapters that concentrate on the individual characters and their situations. The plot builds and builds, and the climactic scenes really pay off … The book’s not yet available in the U. S., more’s the pity, but I was lucky enough to snag a review copy. Check it out if you get the chance.” – Edgar-nominated author Bill CriderBill? Our first-born is yours for the asking …
“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.
Friday, October 5, 2007
The Embiggened O # 2,019: Is There Such A Thing As Too Much Good Karma?
Being the continuing stooooooory of a quack who has gone to the dogs … or our increasingly laboured attempts to get THE BIG O published in America. YOU decide! Anyhoo, the gist is that we’ve been persecuting writers to blurb our humble offering THE BIG O in order to get one toe in the door of the room where they make the bottom rung for the metaphorical ladders of the publishing industry. To date we’ve been fairly overwhelmed by the generosity of the response, with Allan Guthrie, Reed Farrel Coleman and Jason Starr all being kind enough to offer their opinions. Bill Crider went one better: not only did he respond in gratifyingly positive fashion, he even posted his review to his interweb page thingagummy. Bless you, Mr Crider, sir. If you haven’t time to juke over there, the juicy bits runneth thusly: