“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.

Friday, September 5, 2008

I Dream Of Gene-y

The long-threatened Irish crime writing series at the Books 2008 festival dawns dark, wet and stormy, and that’s as pathetic as I’m letting this fallacy get. For lo! Why would you read this oul’ rubbish when elsewhere there’s a veritable horde of proper writers – John Connolly, Arlene Hunt, Colin Bateman, Ruth Dudley Edwards, Adrian McKinty, Gene Kerrigan (right) and Declan Hughes – spraffing about why there’s been such a dramatic increase in the numbers of Irish crime writers? Quoth, for example, Gene Kerrigan:
“There’s been an upsurge in several kinds of Irish fiction .... Crime fiction is a small part of that. Perhaps it has something to do with increased confidence, a realisation that there are more possibilities than there used to be. Look around at what’s happening – you’re sitting in a pub and a guy walks in with a balaclava on, gun in hand – everyone knows that can happen in any Dublin pub any day of the week. How can you be a writer and not want to deal with that through fiction?”
  There’s one man whose acquaintance I’m looking forward to making this weekend, although maybe I’ll skip the traditional get-to-know-you pint if he suggests a swift one down his boozer. Anyhoos, for much more on the same theme, jog on over to the Evening Herald’s interweb malarkey

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