Off with us to Scarborough then on Thursday, with yours truly doing the navigating, which is always a recipe for disaster. And so it proved, but we’ll draw a discreet veil, etc. Scarborough was a smashing evening, and it’s a very pretty town too - I’ll be back in short order, and possibly for the literary festival next April. A really, really nice bunch of people …
I wish I could say the same about the folks in Liverpool, but they let a load of Everton fans into the event, which was - appropriately enough - held at the Bridewell One, formerly a police station, and now a venue where the punters get to have a Pimms or two in what used to be holding cells. Nice. Adam Creed was good enough to join John and I on the dais for what turned out to be a hugely enjoyable evening that quickly dispensed with any kind of formality and turned into a Q&A / chat / slagging match that lasted a couple of hours. Weirdly, even the Everton fans behaved themselves. And I had a terrific conversation about Billy Roche. All told, a brilliant end to the week.
SLAUGHTER’S HOUND in the Guardian, courtesy of Laura Wilson. The gist of it runs a lot like this:
“Many writers of crime fiction are drawn to the streetwise narrator with the wisecracking voice – Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett have a lot to answer for – but only a handful can make it credible and funny. Irish writer Burke is one who has succeeded spectacularly well … From the arresting opening image to the unexpected twist at the end, this is a hardboiled delight.” - Laura Wilson, The GuardianWhich pretty much sets the seal on a week to remember. And now I’m off to bed. For a week. Nighty-night.