Monday Morning, Coming Down

Hmmmm. Three flights + four airports + 18.4 hours travel time + half a coal-sack of jet-lag can do funny things to a man, albeit of the funny-peculiar variety. And I still haven’t seen the crèche-bound Lilyput yet, who was (allegedly) waving at a picture of the Grand Viz yesterday and saying “Da-da”. This book promotion malarkey just ain’t what it’s cracked up to be …
  Happily, I finally got back from Bouchercon to find two new reviews of THE BIG O wandering aimlessly around ye olde interwebbe, the first from Adam Woog at The Seattle Times, the gist of which runneth thusly:

“Declan Burke’s THE BIG O is full of dry Irish humour, a delightful caper revolving around a terrific cast … If you don’t mind the occasional stretch of credulity, the result is stylish and sly.”

  Thank you kindly, Mr Woog - we don’t mind if you don’t. After that came Luan Gaines, who has already given THE BIG O the old hup-ya over on Amazon.com, holding forth on Curled Up With a Good Book:

“I wasn’t sure what to expect in Burke’s Irish thriller, humour and crime not of particular interest to me. But I was seduced by Burke’s writing style - short, incisive dialog, heavy on attitude and rife with implication … a tale that begins with criminal intent and snowballs into a messy denouement that leaves little doubt about Burke’s skills as a writer of an ironic and entertaining thriller.”

  Who dares, Gaines – or words to that effect. A rather long post about all the wunnerful folk I met in Baltimore will be forthcoming in the very near future, but right now I’m boarding the train for Sleepytown. Night-night, Mary-Ellen …