“Declan Burke is his own genre. The Lammisters dazzles, beguiles and transcends. Virtuoso from start to finish.” – Eoin McNamee “This bourbon-smooth riot of jazz-age excess, high satire and Wodehouse flamboyance is a pitch-perfect bullseye of comic brilliance.” – Irish Independent Books of the Year 2019 “This rapid-fire novel deserves a place on any bookshelf that grants asylum to PG Wodehouse, Flann O’Brien or Kyril Bonfiglioli.” – Eoin Colfer, Guardian Best Books of the Year 2019 “The funniest book of the year.” – Sunday Independent “Declan Burke is one funny bastard. The Lammisters ... conducts a forensic analysis on the anatomy of a story.” – Liz Nugent “Burke’s exuberant prose takes centre stage … He plays with language like a jazz soloist stretching the boundaries of musical theory.” – Totally Dublin “A mega-meta smorgasbord of inventive language ... linguistic verve not just on every page but every line.Irish Times “Above all, The Lammisters gives the impression of a writer enjoying himself. And so, dear reader, should you.” – Sunday Times “A triumph of absurdity, which burlesques the literary canon from Shakespeare, Pope and Austen to Flann O’Brien … The Lammisters is very clever indeed.” – The Guardian

Friday, February 15, 2019

Interview: Jo Spain

I sat down with Jo Spain (right) a couple of weeks ago to interview her for the Irish Times. As is generally the case with crime writers (on this side of the pond, at least), Jo’s first introduction to crime fiction came courtesy of Enid Blyton:
Dirty Little Secrets is Jo Spain’s sixth novel in four years, with all five to date becoming bestsellers. It’s a prodigious output, and one that can be directly traced back to a precocious five-year-old devouring Enid Blyton stories in a bid to escape her “grim surroundings” in North Dublin’s Belcamp.
  “The people, yes, there was a lot of love, a lot of humour,” says Spain, “but aesthetically it wasn’t pleasant. There was a field beside us where dead horses would be dumped. I got attacked by a dog once, and the next day the family who owned the dog slit its throat and dumped it in the field rather than pay the vet’s bill. Meanwhile, I was reading Enid Blyton, and I was on Kirrin Island, and Aunt Fanny was making me toasted crumpets . . . I used to dream of midnight feasts. Enid Blyton,” she laughs, “made me hungry all the time.”
  For the rest of the interview, clickety-click here

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