“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

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

No Man Left Behind: O Rigby, Where Art Thou?

I was rummaging around in the back of the drawer the other night when I came across the old EIGHTBALL BOOGIE reviews I’d clipped out and kept. EIGHTBALL was my first serious attempt at a novel, a PI story set in Sligo in the northwest of Ireland featuring the ‘research consultant’ Harry Rigby. I thought the concept was hilarious, and I’d already written a goodly chunk of the second draft before my flatmate came home one day with a copy of THE GUARDS and said, “Hey, have you heard of this Ken Bruen guy?”
  Anyhoos, Lilliput published the novel a couple of years later, in 2003. I was pretty green at the time, so when they said, “We’ll take care of the publicity, you don’t worry about it,” I took them at their word. When the reviews started coming in, I reckoned I was maybe onto something, to wit:
“I have seen the future of Irish crime fiction and it’s called Declan Burke.” – Ken Bruen

“Consummately slick … the characters just crazed enough, the plot just about crazy too … Burke drops neither ball nor pace through one of the sharpest, wittiest books I’ve read for ages.” – Sunday Independent

“There’s a lot of smart and snappy dialogue and a reasonably preposterous plot that moves as fast as a speeding bullet. Declan Burke is a definite find.” – Irish Independent

“Burke has balanced tragic and comic by dreaming up the most insensitive smart-ass he could, and letting him loose in a very fast-paced plot. The writing is splendid and gives new meaning to the term razor-sharp fiction.” – Irish Examiner

“Burke writes a staccato prose that ideally suits his purpose, and his narrative booms along as attention grippingly as a Harley Davidson with the silence missing. Downbeat but exhilarating.” – Irish Times

“Rigby resembles the gin-soaked love child of Rosalind Russell and William Powell ... a wild ride worth taking.” – Booklist

“A manic, edgy tone that owes much to Elmore Leonard … could be the start of something big.” – The Sunday Times

“Eight Ball Boogie proves to be that rare commodity, a first novel that reads as if it were penned by a writer in mid-career ... (it) marks the arrival of a new master of suspense on the literary scene.” – Mystery Scene

“Declan Burke has written a wonderful book … fast-paced and filled with wonderful characters through out, a PI story that moves forward like freight train.” – Crime Spree Magazine

“It was a vintage year, too, for new Irish talent. Watch out for EIGHTBALL BOOGIE by Declan Burke, a pacy, picaresque thriller.” – ‘Books of the Year’, Irish Independent, 2003
  EIGHTBALL BOOGIE was also long-listed for the Sunday Independent / Hughes & Hughes Irish Novel of the Year in the Crime Fiction section, alongside Ken Bruen, Ingrid Black and Michael Collins, and was subsequently published in Holland and France, but Lilliput declined to publish the follow-up, which was another Rigby story. Only by then I’d ploughed on and written a third in the series.
  I miss Harry Rigby sometimes. For all his faults and failings, or perhaps because of them, he’s the most autobiographical character I’ve ever written. Maybe some day I’ll get around to visiting him again, see how he’s doing. The last I heard, he’d been gypped by a friend, who set him up as a patsy and then lit out for Crete at the end of THE BIG EMPTY.
  Hey, maybe Rigby’s out in Crete now, looking for his erstwhile buddy. Y’think I could get a (koff) research grant to go see how he’s getting on?
  Finally, here’s Declan Burke circa 2003 (right). That shock of carefully tousled hair, the burgeoning lamb-chop sideburns, the statement of serious intent that is the black polo-neck … Beautiful, eh?


Gerard Brennan said...

A well-timed post. I'm up to chapter ten of Eightball Boogie at the minute. Was just beginning to wonder about sequels and such.


Anonymous said...

It does feel much more personal than The Big O,yes.
When I finished it I thought I would have liked to read a sequel,but also that its ending is so effective b/c Harry's relationships have been turned inside out and all possibilities are open.


Anonymous said...

That hair in 2003? Do I thank Mrs B?

John McFetridge said...

Started the book last night - what weird timing (had to finish the excellent Ice Harvest first).

I'm only on chapter 5, but already I agree with all the reviews. And already I'm keen to see more books with these characters.

Anonymous said...

As I've said before, Dec, I thought "Eightball Boogie" was excellent, and it definitely deserves more exposure.

Anonymous said...

Much obliged, folks ...

Ms Witch? There are many things for which we need to thank Mrs B, and the hair is the least of them.

Cheers, Dec

Dana King said...

Bouchercon had eased EIGHTBALL BOOGIE down the TBR pile a ways. This has moved it to the top of the list, after I complete a few reviewing obligations.

With that sweater and hair, all you need is a guitar and a soul patch to sing folk songs you wrote yourself to dramy, if hairy-legged, coeds.

Anonymous said...

My, what big hair you had. It's so floooofy.

Declan Burke said...

Actually, just looking at that pic now, I've got some serious sleepy-eye syndrome going on. What the hell was that all about?

Cheers, Dec