“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.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Best Things In Life Are Free … Books

Christy Kenneally’s latest offering, TEARS OF GOD, sounds like a cracker, and we have three copies to give away courtesy of the kindly folk at Hodder Headline Ireland. First, the blurb elves:
Father Michael Flaherty returns to his island home to hide from the world, knowing that those he loves are in danger simply because he is alive. But try as he might, he can’t escape his past - and soon an assassin’s dying message makes him realise that he must face his enemy one final time to rid himself of the evil that threatens everything and everyone he holds dear. He finds himself in Jerusalem - the most volatile city on earth. As the Ghost, the malevolent director of the CIA, schemes to blindside the new American president and play Christians, Jews and Muslims off against one another and lead them to the brink of war, Michael Flaherty is involved in the much more simple game of who should live and who should die. And a Crusader Knight has just one question - ‘Where are the Tears of God?’
  No, God’s tears are not ‘the rain’ – that’s a whole precipitation-evaporation-precipitation dealio. To be in with a chance of winning a copy of TEARS OF GOD, just answer the following question.
Does God cry:
(a) tears of sorrow;
(b) tears of joy;
(c) the tears of a clown;
(d) from hay fever, mainly?
  Answers via the comment box, please, leaving a snail-mail or contact address (using (at) rather than @ to confuse the spam-munchkins), before noon on Saturday, March 14. Et bon chance, mes amis