Smarter Than The Average Bears

It’s a pic-a-nic, Boo-Boo. If you do happen to be in the vicinity of the Electric Picnic this coming Saturday, September 4th, here’s a gentle reminder that the crème-de-la-crème of Irish crime writing (and one clot) will be yakking it up over at the Arts Council Literary Stage as part of the Mindfield offerings over the weekend. Yours truly is said clot, hosting a conversation between the inseparable Arlene Hunt and Declan Hughes (above right) and Gene Kerrigan about the books that inspired them to take reading and writing seriously when they were kids, so expect more than one reference to Enid Blyton. As for your humble host, and given the way the writing career isn’t exactly working out as anticipated, I’m planning on breaking out my radical ‘trapped-in-a-box’ mime routine. Don’t say you haven’t been warned …
  The following weekend, Dun Laoghaire hosts the Mountains to Sea literary festival, and I’ll be front and centre at 12 noon on Saturday 11th for what promises to be an enthralling hour of conversation between Eoin McNamee and Stuart Neville - providing, of course, the Dun Laoghaire folks provide an interpreter that allows our delicate Southern ears to decipher those beguiling Norn Iron accents. Stuart Neville’s COLLUSION is one of the finest thrillers I’ve read so far this year, and is even better than his many-splendoured debut, THE TWELVE, while McNamee’s ORCHID BLUE, which is published in November and offers a fictionalised version of a true crime that occurred in 1950’s Newry, is probably his best novel yet. All in all, a tantalising prospect.
  I’m also hoping to get along to see Kate Atkinson at the Mountains to Sea festival. I missed out on WHEN WILL THERE BE GOOD NEWS?, but Atkinson’s recent release, STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG, is a tremendous piece of work. She’ll be in conversation with Mia Gallagher at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, the 11th, at the Pavilion Theatre …

On Bill Badger, And Other Favourite Bukes

A couple of dates for your crime fic diaries, folks. On September 4th, Irish crime writing takes to the stage at the Electric Picnic, when Declan Hughes, Arlene Hunt and Gene Kerrigan assemble to talk about the business of books and writing, with yours truly standing by to make sure they all colour inside the lines. The idea of the gig is to talk to crime writers about books in general, and not just crime writing, with each of the authors offering a couple of examples of the novels that first inspired them to start reading and writing … although there’s every chance, of course, that they will be crime novels.
  The first book I can remember having a profound impact on me was about a guy called Bill Badger, he was an actual badger who lived on a barge moored on a canal … I can’t remember anything about the story, I was only about four at the time, but it was pretty riveting stuff.
  (Holy Moly, I’ve just discovered that there were nine Bill Badger books! Right, that’s Lily’s bedtime reading sorted for the next couple of months.)
  Anyway, I’ll also be asking the trio about Irish crime novels that they think deserve rehabilitating, or possibly republishing, in light of the recent explosion of Irish crime fiction. Some suggestions I’ll be making: Seamus Smyth’s QUINN; John Kelly’s THE POLLING OF THE DEAD; TS O’Rourke’s DEATH CALL; Hugo Hamilton’s SAD BASTARD; and Vincent Banville’s DEATH THE PALE RIDER.
  Elsewhere, Dun Laoghaire’s Mountains to the Sea literary festival runs from September 7th to 12th, and boasts a small but perfectly formed crime contingent, with Kate Atkinson in conversation with HELLFIRE author Mia Gallagher on Saturday the 11th. I read Atkinson’s latest, STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG last week, and it’s terrific stuff. The gig I’ll be getting along to, though, is the fascinating pair-up of Eoin McNamee and Stuart Neville (noon, Saturday the 11th), gnarled veteran and callow lieutenant, respectively, of Norn Iron letters. I read McNamee’s ORCHID BLUE last month, and it’s probably his finest novel yet; while Neville’s latest, COLLUSION, is a superior offering to his very fine debut, THE TWELVE. All in all, should be a cracking afternoon. For all the Mountains to the Sea details, clickety-click here …
  Finally, for those of you scratching the itch to write a novel of your own, the Author Rights Agency, under the aegis of Svetlana Pironko and Kevin Stevens, is offering a 26-week course in ‘The Making of a Novel’, which comes complete with an individual assessment from the course directors on your work. The fee - brace yourself, Bridget - is €2,000, but course contributors include Ken Bruen, Siobhan Parkinson, Catherine Dunne and Marita Conlon-McKenna. Do bear in mind that your humble host has absolutely no connection with said course, and is simply doing a mate a favour by giving it a shout-out. All the details can be found here …
  I am reminded, though, every time I hear about writing courses, about the (hopefully apocryphal) story about the tutor who stood up on the very first night of a writing course to address his students.
  “Who here really wants to write?” he said.
  A full show of hands.
  “Who’s willing to get up at five in the morning to write?” he said.
  Maybe half the hands go up.
  “Who’s willing to slough off all their friends and most of their family in order to write?” he said.
  Five or six hands go up.
  “Who’d be willing to let their mother die in order to be able to write about it afterwards?” the tutor said.
  One hand goes up.
  “Okay,” says the tutor. “So why the fuck aren’t you at home, writing?”

Not Quite As Smart As The Average Bear

I mentioned during the week that I’d be chairing a discussion in the Spoken Word tent at the Electric Picnic. Easy money, right? Not only would I get to share a stage with writers of the quality of Julie Parsons (right), Declan Hughes and Brian McGilloway, we’d be spraffing about Irish crime fiction. How could it possibly go wrong? Well, it’s like this …
  The fatal boo-boo Julie, Declan and Brian made was allowing the Yogi Bear-style Grand Viz drive from Dublin down to the picinick at Stradbally. Generally a reliable sort behind the wheel, the Grand Viz somehow managed to miss the motorway turn-off for the Electric Picnic and get us all lost somewhere in Kildare. With time ticking away, many and desperate were the calls made to the gig organiser, the unflappable Cormac Kinsella. Happily, the radio-waves were thick with the phrases, ‘Not a problem’, ‘It’ll be grand’, and ‘No bother’.
  Anyhoos, we finally stumbled on-stage about 15 minutes late, only to discover there were three mikes for the four of us. Undeterred, we ploughed on, and the trio kicked off with superb readings – Julie from I SAW YOU, Declan from THE DYING BREED, and Brian from BORDERLANDS (he’d planned to read from his latest novel, GALLOWS LANE, but with typical generosity had given his copy away earlier in the day).
  Then the discussion began, just at the point when a guy decided to have a baby on the stage next door. Amazingly, and despite the unique attraction in the vicinity, the Spoken Word tent filled up, and the audience were – given our tardy arrival and the horrific screams wafting in from next door to drown out practically every word said – surprisingly generous, loud and warm in their applause.
  It’s a glamorous lark and no mistake, this writing life.
  Every cloud has its silver lining, though, and after the gig a glamorous blonde stepped forward from the audience to say that she’d found the discussion fascinating, and that she’d really enjoyed it. What was nice about that, apart from the glamorous blonde bit, was that she just so happens to be the lady I’ve been dealing with at the Arts Council, which august body may or may not be funding a project currently under consideration.
  Said project is – clumsy working title alert! – ‘a history of Irish crime fiction’, to be written by Irish crime writers such as John Connolly, Declan Hughes, Ruth Dudley Edwards, Colin Bateman, et al, each writing a chapter according to their own speciality, with yours truly, Adrian McKinty and Gerard Brennan sharing the editing duties. It’s still but a twinkle in our collective eye, but there’s a lot of enthusiasm and potential synergy out there, so here’s hoping it’ll get off the ground. Stay tuned for further details …
  Next weekend it’s the Books 2008 Irish crime writing series, but right now it’s Sunday morning and the Princess Lilyput’s big day (right). Thanks to everyone who left comments on the Bell’s palsy post yesterday, by the way … If the events of yesterday didn’t explode it into a full-blown stroke, nothing will. Peace, out.

Four Readings And A Christening

It’s a busy time at Chez Grand Viz, folks. Princess Lilyput (right) will be christened this coming Sunday, and has insisted her minions rush about “just, like, doing stuff” between now and then, and loath we are to disobey. We’re looking forward to it, though. I remain unconvinced about the religious / spiritual aspect of the ceremony, but I’m loving the idea of officially introducing the little girl to our extended families, our friends and the community at large. A manly tear may well be shed …
  Before we get to Sunday, however, there’s Saturday’s Electric Picnic gig to be negotiated, during which yours truly will be chairing a panel on Irish crime fiction in the company of Declan Hughes, Julie Parsons and Brian McGilloway. I’ll be doing a follow-up post in the aftermath, so if there’s any questions you ever wanted to ask of any of the trio, now would be a good time to let me know.
  The weekend after that is the crime writing series as part of the Books 2008 festival, where I’ll be participating on two panels in the company of John Connolly, Dec Hughes, Tana French, Gene Kerrigan, Ruth Dudley Edwards, Brian McGilloway, Arlene Hunt, and sundry other ne’er-do-wells from the Irish crime writing scene. It should be a blast, not least because blogger non pareil Peter Rozovsky is travelling to Ireland to take a gander at the Irish crime writer in its native habitat, and may even consent to partake in a ceremonial dry sherry to mark the occasion.
  Once the dust settles on that particular Donnybrook, there’s a two-week run-in to the official publication of THE BIG O in North America, during which I’ll be typing my delicate little fingers down to stumps in a bid to secure as much coverage for our humble tome as is humanly possible. Any and all offers of even a single atom of publicity oxygen will be very gratefully received. Your reward will be in Heaven. Peace, out.

The Embiggened O: Bringing It All Back Home

Yep, it’s a Red Letter Day, folks. One month exactly to the day when THE BIG O hits the shelves of North America, September 22nd, a box full of gorgeous hardbacks arrived at Chez Big Viz, to the delight of large and Lilliputian. In fact, so excited was Lilyput that she lost the run of herself entirely and tried to bite a chunk out of the cover’s corner. You don’t make that mistake twice …
  Anyhoos, it’s here, and suddenly the whole deal seems that bit more real. Actually, it feels a bit surreal. As if the world has taken a step closer to yours truly, or I to it. Everything seems to be in sharper focus. I suppose it’s the adrenaline buzz, but I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.
  Harcourt – or Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, to give it its full name – have done a wonderful job on the book. I was very happy indeed with the Hag’s Head version, but I’m equally happy this one too. Kudos there to jacket designer Kelly Eismann …
  North America is a big, big place, of course, and I’m under no illusions as to how hard THE BIG O will have to work if it’s to make even the slightest impact on its release. But that’s the easiest kind of hard work I’ll ever do. I’ve worked in bars and on building sites, pumped petrol in all weathers, and worked every half-assed job you can think of. Knuckling down to promote your second-favourite baby is child’s play by comparison, and just as enjoyable.
  Speaking of which … If anyone out there is getting along to next weekend’s Electric Picnic in Stradbally, Co. Laois, I’ll be chairing a discussion on Irish crime fiction with a panel that includes Declan Hughes, Julie Parsons and Brian McGilloway. That happens at 4.30pm in the Spoken Word tent, and if it’s hammering down rain, as it is very likely to be in this wettest of Irish summers, you’ll be warm and cosy listening to us droning on. Hell, you can even bring your iPods so long as you don’t turn ’em up too loud …