“Among the most memorable books of the year, of any genre, was Declan Burke’s ABSOLUTE ZERO COOL (Liberties Press) … Burke splices insights into the creative process into a fiendishly dark thriller that evokes the best of Flann O’Brien and Bret Easton Ellis.” - Sunday Times' 'Best Books of the Year'


Crime Always Pays (n): being the blog of Irish author Declan Burke (right, with Chief Helper Elf, the Princess Lilyput), and featuring reviews, interviews and occasionally interesting news about the dicks, dames and desperadoes of (mostly) crime fiction. All of which is designed to help promote his own novels, natch.

Agent: Allan Guthrie, c/o Jenny Brown Associates.

Contact: dbrodb(at)gmail.com.

For daily updates on Irish crime fiction, click here.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Boylan Point

It’s curtains for KT McCaffrey, folks. Or - dum-dum-DUM! - is it? “The latest of the excellent series featuring Dublin journalist Emma Boylan,” was how the Irish Independent’s Myles McWeeney described KT McCaffrey’s previous outing, THE CAT TRAP, and he may well find himself using the same phrase again one of these days. For lo! KT launches NO CURTAIN CALL on this coming Friday, April 9th, at the Central Hotel on Exchequer Street in Dublin, with special guest Betty Ann Norton doing the honours. All, as if it needs to be said, are welcome, and if anyone cuts up rough on the door, just tell them Crime Always Pays sent you. The gig kicks off at 6.30pm. Quoth the blurb elves:
When the naked, blood-encrusted body of a well-known property developer is discovered on a graveyard slab, the media frenzy surrounding the story is overwhelming. Investigative journalist Emma Boylan is assigned to the case but she soon discovers that she will be playing second fiddle to a rival male reporter, much to her displeasure. Peeved at being sidelined, Emma embarks on a line of inquiry that leads her deep into the dark side of London's West End. Dead bodies continue to turn up amid the most elaborate theatrical settings imaginable. Undeterred, she probes further into disturbing deeds that have been a long time hidden. Now she must peel away layer after layer of deception until events collide and spiral into a terrifying, spectacular climax …

Monday, April 5, 2010

“Ya Wanna Do It Here Or Down The Station, Punk?”: Phil Rickman

Yep, it’s rubber-hose time, folks: a rapid-fire Q&A for those shifty-looking usual suspects ...

What crime novel would you most like to have written?
THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. Or maybe THE TIGER IN THE SMOKE. Or even LAMBS IN THE SMOKE.

What fictional character would you most like to have been?
I wouldn’t. That’s like asking which writer I’d want to have moving me around. Creepy. Forget it.

Who do you read for guilty pleasures?
I don’t go for all this guilty pleasures stuff . Like, am I supposed to feel guilty about enjoying Joanna Trollope because I’m not a woman?

Most satisfying writing moment?
The End. Isn’t it always?

The best Irish crime novel is …?
To be honest, I haven’t read enough of them to make a valid assessment. Does John Connolly count, even though his books aren’t set in Ireland?

What Irish crime novel would make a great movie?
Probably won’t happen. Last time I spoke to John Connolly he said he wouldn’t let those Hollywood bastards anywhere near his characters.

Worst / best thing about being a writer?
The fact that people never believe you when you say a fairly successful crime writer earns nearly as much as a middle-ranking cop.

The pitch for your next book is …?
Ritual murder ... the SAS ... Good Friday.

Who are you reading right now?
James Lee Burke. When you’re writing, it’s always better to read someone inspirational in the hope some of it rubs off.

God appears and says you can only write OR read. Which would it be?
Write. Because I also need to Eat.

The three best words to describe your own writing are …?
Dialogue you hear.

THE BONES OF AVALON by Phil Rickman is published by Corvus.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

The Lone Ranger and Toronto

Canada is justifiably lauded for many things, but gritty urban noir isn’t one of them. Unless, of course, you’re one of the cognoscenti who’s read John McFetridge’s (pictured right, in classic ‘having cake and eating it’ mode) ‘Dirty Sweet’ (2006) and ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’ (2007). Pared-down tales of Toronto’s dark underbelly, the novels have been favourably compared with Elmore Leonard’s Detroit-set stories for their smartly observed characters, sharp dialogue, and a willingness to go beyond simplistic characterisations to explore the complex nature of crime and criminality.
  His latest offering was published last year in Canada as ‘Swap’, but arrives in the US bearing the title ‘Let It Ride’. It’s his best novel yet, a distillation of the elements that made the previous novels such compelling reading, and yet it’s a complex story of interwoven motivations that virtually defies a synopsis. John? Can you tell us what it’s all about in fifty words or less?
  “My publisher would love it if I could,” he laughs. “It’s about how relationships change over time, how the balance of power shifts ... It’s about an ex-marine who comes to Toronto from Detroit to set up a supply line for drugs from a guy he met in Afghanistan who’s now a member of a biker gang. And he meets a woman who’s robbing spas and wants to rob the bikers. And there are cops ...”
  Before John McFetridge, Toronto revelled in the name of ‘Toronto the Good’. Is it true that he’s personally responsible for the steep rise in Toronto crime statistics? Is it even safe to visit Toronto these days?
  “Yes, this is true, the only crime in Toronto is in books, otherwise it really is New York run by the Swiss. No crime, clean streets, all the people friendly all the time. Honestly, though, almost everything that happens in my books has its roots in something that actually happened here, from the closed-down brewery being used as a giant grow-op to the eight bikers killed in one night, to the highest ranking narcotics officers on the Toronto police being arrested for drug dealing.”
  As in all good crime writing, McFetridge’s tales explore how conventional notions of street-level criminality impacts on all strata of society, a pervasive poison that goes right to the top of the power structure. Is there a moral dimension to writing that kind of fiction? Or is crime fiction purely an entertainment that reflects the world we live in?
  “If it accurately reflects the world we live in,” he says, “then I think that’s the moral dimension. I try to show the circumstances that allow the criminals to operate, the ways that they justify criminal behaviour to themselves as being just business, and the internal politics and the restrictions on the police that make it difficult to catch these guys. Any conclusions are up to the reader.”
  McFetridge gets compared to Elmore Leonard quite a lot. Does that ever get boring?
  “It’s certainly not boring yet, though he must be getting tired of the number of writers being compared to him. I think it’s a style of writing that’s almost a genre of its own by now. I think of it starting with Hemingway and short stories like ‘The Killers’ and ‘Fifty Grand’ and then maybe it split into crime and literary with Elmore Leonard, and everyone who gets compared to him in the crime camp, and people like Richard Ford and Raymond Carver in the literary camp.”
  Are there any writers who make him you bite his fingers with envy?
  “Lots. So many. And the great thing is there are more all the time, every year more writers come out with debut books that are so good.”
  That said, McFetridge is of the opinion that there should be more good writers getting published every year.
  “I know of a few very good writers,” he says, “who’ve had a number of books published, who are having trouble finding a publisher for their new work. More and more I see any book that falls outside the easy description, that’s difficult to categorize or take risks - all the things that literature should do - having trouble finding a publisher. I can understand the employees of the publishing companies having bosses to answer to who have shareholders to answer to, so the drive becomes the most amount of profit in the shortest time above all else, but that mentality isn’t really the roots of publishing.”
  To that end, McFetridge has recently taken the radical step of setting up a writers’ co-operative organisation.
  “The idea is a kind of novelists version of the original United Artists,” he says, “a company run by the artists. Democracy sounds like a great idea but it’s messy and hard to work on a day-to-day basis, but I’d like to try. If the co-op members are all people who love books and who love literature and that’s their main priority, then I think it’s possible they could do great things. I’m not suggesting it be a non-profit organization (at least not on purpose) but that the drive for the most amount of profit possible not be the main decision making factor all the time.”
  It’s a fascinating concept, especially given the technological advances of recent years, which should in theory make it a lot easier for writers to connect with readers while minimising the number of middle-men involved in the process. For more info, clickety-click here ...
  Meanwhile, do yourself a favour and check out John McFetridge’s superb ‘Let It Ride’. If its quality is anything to go by, Toronto’s Lone Ranger won’t be riding away into the sunset any time soon.

  This article was first published in Crimespree Magazine.

Friday, April 2, 2010

All She Wrote: Murder Ink, RIP

Some very sad news arrived late last night, courtesy of Rob Kitchin: Murder Ink, the crime fiction bookstore on Dawson Street in Dublin, is closing its doors. Run for the last 12 years by Michael Gallagher (right), Murder Ink was always hugely supportive of Irish crime writers, and rarely failed to put a new Irish release front and centre in its windows - at no cost to the writer or publisher, I hasten to add. A combination of the economic downturn and Michael’s failing health contributed to the decision, although the fact that Dawson Street also hosts a Waterstones and a Hodges Figgis meant that it was never easy for Murder Ink to capitalise on its niche appeal. An unfailingly warm and welcoming proprietor, and hugely informative about crime fiction domestic and international, Michael Gallagher will be sorely missed as a supporter of Irish crime writing.
  It really has been a funny old week on ye olde blogge. On Tuesday I covered the death of independent publishers and the revolution in publishing; on Wednesday I had a piece in the Irish Times on the unique relevance of crime writing to modern Ireland; yesterday I featured Arlene Hunt’s launch for BLOOD MONEY at the newly opened Gutter Bookshop in Temple Bar, and tied that in (with a nod to the impending launch of the iPad) with the availability of CRIME ALWAYS PAYS in a variety of formats courtesy of Smashwords. So I’m feeling a little guilty sitting here this morning, as if I’ve somehow betrayed Michael Gallagher in particular and independent bookshops in general, especially as I haven’t darkened the doors of Murder Ink for about two months now. Sentimental tosh, of course: the industry is a machine designed for one purpose only, and that’s to maximise profit.
  Sentimentality aside, you may have noticed that I haven’t provided a link to Murder Ink, and that’s because the shop didn’t have one. A crucial failing in this electronic age, you’d imagine, although it’s very probably because there was no way Murder Ink could compete on-line with the likes of Amazon. Even so, an on-line presence is at the very least an essential marketing tool as the publishing industry slowly migrates to the web. But it’s not just as a marketing tool that the industry is utilising the web: with the advent of e-publishing, writers are more and more using the tools available to by-pass the traditional model of the industry itself. In the week that Murder Ink announced that it will no longer be doing business, for example, the writer JA Konrath announced March sales of $4,200 from e-books alone.
  The death by a million cuts of the independent bookstore is not just an erosion of the traditional publishing model’s core, and it’s not just a machine-like milling out of diversity and originality in favour of blandly homogenous fare. It’s also a very human tragedy in terms of jobs lost, incomes destroyed and lives ruined. “We are living through a revolution as enormous as the one created by Gutenberg’s printing press,” claimed Sameer Rahim in Monday’s Daily Telegraph, and although it’s unwise to make definitive pronouncements while a revolution is ongoing, it appears that, once the dust has settled, there will be very few independent bookstores left standing. It may also be the case, if JA Konrath is any example, that the newly modelled landscape of this Brave New World will boast tens of thousands, and perhaps hundreds of thousands, of independent booksellers. Or writers, as they were formerly known.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Declan Hughes In The Gutter. Again.

The stars were out in force last week to help Arlene Hunt launch her latest tome, BLOOD MONEY, at the Gutter Bookshop, and Declan Hughes was there too (ba-boom-tish, etc.). Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to make it myself, possibly because I was too busy feverishly thumbing through said tome. For my verdict, which was delivered on RTE’s Arena programme on Tuesday night, clickety-click here. Don’t adjust your speakers; if you’re wondering why I sound even more like a hippo playing the tuba than usual, it’s because I had a heavy man-cold. Poor me, etc.
  Happily enough, a couple of books popped through the letter-flap to cheer me up - the paperback versions of Alan Glynn’s WINTERLAND arrived, as did a new version of Gene Kerrigan’s DARK TIMES IN THE CITY, complete with ‘Shortlisted for the Crime Writers’ Association Gold Dagger’ branding. Nice. And as if that wasn’t enough, John Connolly’s THE WHISPERERS arrived too. So that’s next week’s reading taken care of.
  In other news, the Spinetingler Awards are open for business again, with Stuart Neville, Adrian McKinty and Ken Bruen (co-writing with Reed Farrel Coleman on TOWER) holding up the Irish end of things in the nominations. If you want do your democratic duty, clickety-click here
  In other-other news, I was a bit gobsmacked to learn that JA Konrath, a veteran of e-book publishing at this point, earned just over $4,200 in March, just by selling e-books. Now, maybe March was a particularly good month for him (he gives all the details here). But if that kind of income evens out over a year, he’s looking at earning about fifty grand a year from e-book sales. Not a figure to be sneezed at, especially if you’re a writer (i.e., yours truly) who can’t get the proverbial dog to bark at him.
  In that spirit, and after hearing that Smashwords have signed up with the forthcoming iPad, I uploaded the previously Kindle-only CRIME ALWAYS PAYS to Smashwords, which now means that it’s available in a wide range of electronic formats. Hell, you can now read the blummin’ thing on your iPhone. For a free sample of the novel, clickety-click here
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