Blogging with style and substance, May Contain Nuts is a blog about reading, writing, fatherhood, movies and pretty much anything else that pops into my head. All material, copyright ©2014 Michael Malone. All rights reserved. Material here may not be used in any medium without the permission of the author. His latest book, written with Bashir Saoudi is, The Guillotine Choice
Wednesday, 28 September 2011
"Blood Tears" update
It seems that small publishers are having problems with a certain book-chain which means a delay in the publication of my debut crime novel.
Put it in your diaries, people ...
July 1st, 2012
We're currently talking cover designs (not the above image) and final edits so it's all coming together. At frickin' last.
We're also hoping that advance copies will be made available for those events I've committed to - so some lucky people will get in there first.
In the meantime, I've been busy as a wee bee on another very different project. Which will mean a new publication direction for me. It's all VERY exciting, but I don't want to say too much until details are finalised.
Don't worry, my MCN friends (all three of you) will be the first to know.
Laters,
M
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Review - The Sparrow Conundrum by Bill Kirton
The Sparrow Conundrum by Bill Kirton
The blurby bit -
Chris Machin isn’t his
name, at least not to the bottom feeders in Aberdeen squabbling over North Sea
oil and gas contracts. Chris has a code name, and when his garden explodes, The
Sparrow takes flight, plunging everyone involved into chaos and violence.
A sociopathic cop and an interfering ex-girlfriend don’t exactly make for clarity of thinking, not when the one fancies a bit of violence to add spice to an arrest. The ex adds other, more interesting dimensions to Chris’ already complicated life.
The bodies pile up—some whole, some in fragments—and two wrestlers join the fray. A road trip seems just the solution but then so do Inverness, a fishing trawler and a Russian factory ship as the players face … The Sparrow Conundrum.
A sociopathic cop and an interfering ex-girlfriend don’t exactly make for clarity of thinking, not when the one fancies a bit of violence to add spice to an arrest. The ex adds other, more interesting dimensions to Chris’ already complicated life.
The bodies pile up—some whole, some in fragments—and two wrestlers join the fray. A road trip seems just the solution but then so do Inverness, a fishing trawler and a Russian factory ship as the players face … The Sparrow Conundrum.
The review -
The Sparrow Conundrum is
a laugh-a-paragraph comic crime caper set against the backdrop of the oil
industry in Aberdeen. A full range of funny-bone tickling is on offer for the
discerning reader; from a grin sparked by a witty comment, to a chuckle ... to
a hefty belly-laugh when a delightful set piece reaches its hilarious
conclusion.
The characters that Bill
Kirton serves up in The Sparrow Conundrum are a continuous delight throughout
the book. My favourites were the sociopathic detective Lodgedale and the crime
boss Eagle who surely had his head turned by a gang of bullies at a private
school.
Kirton is a master of the
comic. His scenes are carefully orchestrated for maximum laughs and his
language carefully chosen to tickle.
If you like a change from
the normal mystery/ thriller fare and you don’t take your crime fiction too
seriously you owe it to yourself to get a copy of The-Sparrow-Conundrum. Hiaasen,
Bateman and Moore should be looking over their shoulder, 'cos Kirton has
arrived.
(The above link takes you to Amazon - it should be noted there are plenty of other ways to buy this -bloody good - book)
Monday, 19 September 2011
The Stranger You Seek - Amanda Kyle Williams
What
have I been reading recently, I hear you ask? Sit back and I’ll tell you.
Sitting
comfortably? Cast your peepers over this...
The Stranger You Seek by Amanda Kyle Williams
The blurb goes thus -
“In
the sweltering heat of an Atlanta summer a killer is pushing the city to
breaking point, preying on the unsuspecting and writing taunting letters to the
media which promise more death.
Desperate
to stop the Wishbone Killer before another victim is murdered, A.P.D.
lieutenant Aaron Rauser turns to the one person he knows can penetrate a
deranged mind, ex–FBI profiler Keye Street.
Keye was a rising young star at the Bureau until addiction derailed her career and her life. Now sober and fighting to stay so, Keye picks up jobs where she can get them: catching adulterers, serving subpoenas, chasing down bailjumpers and dodging the occasional bullet.
Keye was a rising young star at the Bureau until addiction derailed her career and her life. Now sober and fighting to stay so, Keye picks up jobs where she can get them: catching adulterers, serving subpoenas, chasing down bailjumpers and dodging the occasional bullet.
With
multiple victims, little to go on and an entire police force looking for
direction, the last thing Keye wants is to be pulled into the firestorm of Atlanta’s
worst nightmare.
And then it suddenly becomes clear that the hunter has become the hunted - and the stranger she seeks is far closer than she ever dared imagine.”
And then it suddenly becomes clear that the hunter has become the hunted - and the stranger she seeks is far closer than she ever dared imagine.”
My
take on it?
This
was the Fresh Blood read over at Crimesquad.com last month and deservedly so. Serial
killers are (to borrow the cliché) ten-a-penny in crime fiction and it takes
something a little bit special to grab and hold my attention. The Stranger You
Seek has got “special” in bucketloads.
Keye
Street is my new favourite character and it’s her voice that takes us through
this cracking read. She is spunky,
sparky (he feverishly seeks another word beginning with “sp”) and (goes for)
sassy. (I didn’t get the “p” in there. So sue me.)
Aspiring
writers who are struggling with the concept of “voice” should read this book
and they’ll receive the message loud and clear. The author uses this to great
effect not only giving the reader everything they would be looking for in such
a novel, but with added warmth and wit. And this (despite the tension and body
count) makes The Stranger You Seek such a joy to read.
I will admit to quick roll of the eyes when I realised Keye was a recovering alcholic, but this well-worn device never felt tired thanks to the zip Williams injects into her writing.
REALLY
looking forward to see what Amanda Kyle Williams comes up with next. She’s a
rising star people – get her book on your shelf now so you can brag to your
mates that you were one of the first to spot her.
Monday, 12 September 2011
Random Acts of Kindness
It was my birthday last
week – and that’s my excuse for not blogging for a wee while – and YES, it took
me all week to celebrate.
Anywho, on the afternoon
of my birthday I was sat sitting in my car in a queue for fuel. The petrol
station was VERY busy.
As busy as a one legged
man in an arse kicking contest.
And if you know me, you’ll
know that I hate waiting in queues.
Eventually, after much
huffing and drumming of fingers on the steering wheel, there was just one car
between me and some diesel satisfaction. A young woman climbed out of her car
and filled up. (Haven’t you noticed that everyone in front of you fills their
tank, while in the other queues they are only topping up with about ten pounds worth?
What’s that all about?)
At last, she moved as if
to pull the nozzle out of her car. Nothing happened. She pulled again. The
nozzle didn’t move. The girl blew hair out of her eyes, shifted her grip and
pulled some more. Nothing.
C’mon, missus – I mumbled.
Her handbag was over her
shoulder. She adjusted it – pulled some more. No movement. She shook it about.
Nothing.
She looked over at me and
made a small grimace of apology.
I smiled back and
muttered – awfurfucksake.
She adjusted her handbag
again, pushed her fringe away from her eyeline, took a deep breath and PULLED.
Nada, zip, zilch. She pulled, pulled and PULLED. With the same result.
I caught myself about to
swear again and gave myself a lecture. What was I getting annoyed about? She
wasn’t doing this deliberately. I didn’t have to be anywhere in a hurry – and the poor woman was getting really flustered.
I’m always telling the wee fella “its nice to be nice”. Time to live up to the
lecture, Mikey-boy.
Then I wondered if I
should offer to help. Maybe she was a rampant feminist and would knee me in the
danglies and tell me to go do myself. Maybe she would dislodge it just as I walked
up and I would end up looking like an eejit. Or maybe I would end up struggling
just as much as she was.
While I indulged in my
pointless internal debate she was still tugging at it, so I got out of the car
and walked towards her.
Want me to try, I asked?
Oh yes please, she
answered.
The nozzle was fully
inserted into the – don’t know what to call it – fuel-hole? I went through the
same pantomime she had been performing with the inevitable result. It was well
and truly stuck.
It’s really stuck, innit?
I said helpfully. I pulled some more. It’s a really tight fit – I continued –
your hole is awfy tight.
Realising what I had just
said, I coughed and fought down a blush.
I gave the nozzle a wee
jiggle (I give good jiggle) and I could see that the curved pipe inside her
fuel-(ahem) hole had a row of ridges on the underside and one of these was
getting caught in a lip inside her - , no, I’m not going there.
I twisted the nozzle and
jiggled some more (see above) and the handle moved out of her car as smoothly
as if it had been coated in lube. (I’m
at a bad age, let me go with this.)
Men and their hoses, eh?
Back in my car, feeling
pleased with myself I waited for the woman to pay and move her car so I could
drive mine into position. After paying and before she sat in her own car, she
approached mine. I rolled down the window. She handed me a bar of chocolate – a
yorkie bar – that’s for being a big strong man, she said grinning her thanks.
Ten minutes later and I
was still smiling at this turn of events as I parked in a car park in town. I
had birthday money melting in my wallet and I HAD to spend it. The car park is
one of those where you pay at the machine; it prints a voucher and you display
it prominently in your car. As I walked to the machine a young man moved
towards me.
He asked me -you about to
buy a ticket?
Aye.
Here ye go – he handed me
his. I just bought this a minute ago and then I got a text saying I needed to
be somewhere, you might as well have it – he smiled.
Well, you have this - I
offered the man the pound coin I was about to slip into the machine.
Nah, you’re alright mate,
he said and walked away with a wave.
See. Perform an act of
kindness and it come right back atcha.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Down These Green Streets - A review
The super-talented writer and all round nice guy, John Connolly was in my local bookshop yesterday so I popped in for a blether.
This reminded me of a book I reviewed for Crimesquad recently - and here it is ...
Down These Green Streets: Irish crime writing in the 21st
Century edited by Declan Burke
Synopsis
A generation of Irish
crime writers has emerged onto the international stage in the last decade,
among them John Connolly, Tana French, Eoin McNamee, Gene Kerrigan, Arlene
Hunt, Alan Glynn, Declan Hughes, Jane Casey and Ken Bruen. Down These Green Streets: Irish crime writing in the 21st
Century charts the evolution of the Irish crime novel since the inception
of the Irish state through a series of essays, interviews, personal testimonies
and short stories, offering the writers’ perspective on Irish crime writing in
fiction, non-fiction, film and theatre.
Review
John Connolly was my
introduction to Irish crime fiction some ten years ago – my gateway drug if you
will, and he offers a fascinating essay detailing among other things, why he
chose to set his novels in the US. Adrian McKinty and Brian McGilloway offer
views from the north and the impact of the troubles on their desire to write. Declan
Hughes talks about Irish identity and
links with America. Ken Bruen in “The Houston Room” has delivered a short story
which will be an emotional punch in the gut to devotees of the genre.
There is however, more
...much more.
Throughout this process
Declan Burke displays himself to be a very generous fellow indeed. A writer
with talent to match anyone in the book, with his only contribution to the
collection (introduction aside) he gives John Banville an opportunity to answer
his critics who have accused him of literary snobbery. As a follower of his
excellent blog, Crime Always Pays. I know Declan to be an articulate and
thoughtful advocate of the genre and I would have enjoyed some of his own
thoughts to be included in the book (but then that’s the problem with being the
editor).
Down these Green Streets
is not a book to gallop through. It’s one to savour and ponder the points
raised by some of the keenest minds writing in fiction today. It is in turns
discursive, instructive and entertaining and is never less than fascinating.
This needs to be in every crime writing fan’s library, regardless of the hue of
their preferences. The Scandinavians need to have a good look at their royalty
statements; the Irish are here!
To buy (and you know you wanna) simply go HERE
Amazon also have availability, but they're getting too powerful for my liking. Spread your cash around, people.
Laters
Friday, 19 August 2011
Go on, go on, go on ...
Read this, you'll love it ...
Proof
of Life by Karen Campbell
Here be the review wot I wrote for the good peeps over at crimesquad.com -
Synopsis
“The girl in the
foyer could not hear them, could not possibly have heard Anna, or know that she
was there through two thick doors, but her pale neck flexed and her head came
up, longer and higher as her profile turned , as her face took form to stare
directly at the camera.
And Anna's life, her future, froze.”
Chief Inspector Anna Cameron is a woman with everything to lose. Her life is finally back on track, but the mistakes she made in the past are about to come back to haunt her.
When a body is discovered in a Glasgow canal, the death proves to have an unexpected link to something Anna wants desperately to forget. As Glasgow pulses with the threat of terrorist attack and growing civil discontent, she realises everything she holds dear is at risk.
And Anna's life, her future, froze.”
Chief Inspector Anna Cameron is a woman with everything to lose. Her life is finally back on track, but the mistakes she made in the past are about to come back to haunt her.
When a body is discovered in a Glasgow canal, the death proves to have an unexpected link to something Anna wants desperately to forget. As Glasgow pulses with the threat of terrorist attack and growing civil discontent, she realises everything she holds dear is at risk.
What did I make of it?
Verisimilitude is a very big word
– and this book, and all the work of Karen Campbell just sings of it. You want
to really know how a police investigation is carried out? Look no further than
Ms Campbell if it is this kind of detail that sends your boat into a spin.
As well as all that detail you’ll
get as fine a stylist as you’ll read this side of a poetry collection.
Pick a page, any page and you’ll find an arresting phrase (pun intended) or a
sentence that makes you go "ahhh".
And then there’s the actual investigation, the
need to know that carries the reader forward, and again with
this element of
fiction Karen Campbell comes up trumps. Simply said, she offers everything this
reviewer looks for in a novel.
In Proof of Life we have multiple
points of view, each invested with care and attention, each crucial to the
story and each moving it on with delicious reveals at just the right point. And
on this occasion Campbell works the successful trope of the detective and her
loved ones being at risk, because of something she did in her past, providing a
full-circle link to the first book in the series.
There’s an element to the story
that I’m dying to talk about, but
that would spoil it for you – I may just have to accost a total stranger in the
street and demand they listen to me. Suffice to say when I finished the book
and set it to the side, I said one word out loud...
... WOW!
Saturday, 6 August 2011
More Impressions from Harrogate Crime Festival 2011
Given that my debut novel
BLOOD TEARS will be released next May (2012) I was especially interested in the
author sessions at Harrogate Crime Writing Festival. How would I answer that, was the thought that
ran through my head several times a day.
One session homed in on
the subject of violence against women in fiction. Why we read it and why
writers write about it. In the past I’ve heard opponents of this argue there is
misogyny at work here. This is too
facile an answer and doesn’t account for the fact that women write roughly the same
amount of books as men, read 70% of fiction and make up 85% of the publishing
industry. If women really thought this was a form of misogyny would they read/
write/ publish it? Don’t think so.
A prime facet of reader
interest in thriller/ crime fiction is tension and my own theory is that this
issue raises the stakes. If the subject is male I don’t care quite so much.
Harsh but true. If the potential victim is female or a child then my anxiety
levels are raised so much higher.
Val McDermid spoke
eloquently about it and explained her view that women live with the threat of
violence all of their lives. She said that women are warned from a young age to
not walk alone in certain areas, to be aware of how they dress, or behave – and
these warning have a strong impact – and one of the side effects of this is to enjoy
the violence in novels. It’s a vicarious fear and thrill when on the page. A
woman may not be able to feel safe walking home in the dark, but she can read
about it in the safety of her bedroom.
In another session Tess
Gerritson words chimed with my own opinion. She said that she polled her
readers for their views on this subject. She was amazed by the response. Her
readers told her they don’t want to read about male victims of violence because
they simply didn’t care.
That same evening I had
talked myself out at the bar. Thinking it was around 11pm, I checked someone’s
watch to see that it was gone 2am. How the feck did that happen? I said my
goodbyes (I know, I’m a wimp) and set off on the half mile walk to my hotel. This
was around about the time I regretted wearing a brand new pair of shoes. Which
is what you do, innit? Wear new shoes when you are going to be on your feet for
a good chunk of eighteen hours a day for three days. I had a bruise on one heel
and a blister on the other as I negotiated the narrow, poorly-lit, tree-lined
streets.
Around the first corner
and a young man was energetically emptying the contents of his stomach over a
hedge while his girlfriend rubbed his back.
I gave them a wide berth, in my strange double limp while offering the
woman a smile of sympathy. She shook her head slowly and mouthed the word
“wanker”.
Did she mean me, I
wondered as I turned the next corner into another quiet, dimly lit street that swung
round in a slow stretch to the left.
Just ahead of me was a young woman, tight jeans, strappy top, clutching
a handbag to her side.
The way she tightened her
grip on her bag and held it tightly to her side reminded of Val McDermid’s comments
earlier. A young woman was ahead of me in the dark, alone in a quiet side
street. I stopped walking as if I’d walked into a wall. I was the guy. I was
the potential threat to this girl. How could I re-assure her I only wanted to
peel off my shoes and get into my bed?
I started to hum. Loudly.
Music is cool right? I was making noise. I couldn’t possibly be planning to run
up and attack her. I stopped. I sounded deranged. I began to walk again. In a
tip-toe. Now she would be worrying I’d gone silent, so I walked with a heavy
tread. Which really hurt my blister, so I slowed down. Heavy and slow, that was
how to do it. Right?
At this point she crossed
the road. Jeez, I was freaking her out.
Should I shout a hello? Would that be friendly and non-threatening? I
picked up my pace and placed my feet on the ground, leading with the ball of my
feet.
Quiet and fast that would be better, no?
I was drawing level with
her now and gave myself a mental shake. I’d been in this situation plenty of
times and I usually just minded my own business and forgot about the other
person. So, I picked the pace up more, trying to disguise my limp which I’m
sure made me look like I had taken a dump in my trousers.
As I kicked off my shoes
in my hotel room a memory of a writers’ event at my local writers club popped
into my head. A visiting CID detective informed us that statistically a young
man is much, much more likely to be a victim of a violent crime (from other
young men). So ladies, I would always be fully aware of safety concerns, but if
there is a lone male behind you on a quiet street it is very possible he is
going through the same pantomime I was.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
Impressions from Harrogate Crime Writing Festival #2
.
A week or so has now
passed since my visit to the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival and several
highlights have stuck in the old grey matter.
As you may, or may not
know, the people who attend the event are a happy mix of readers, writers,
reviewers, press, publishers and agents. And unlike most other literary events
I’ve been to, everyone mingles. Authors aren’t ushered off to a private space
and only allowed out to go on stage to speak – if they want to they can hide in
the “green room” – but most of them hit the bar with the crowd.
So, you end up speaking
to a real cross section of the book public. Which is great fun.
If someone I met was
unknown to me I hit upon a strategy of asking them in what capacity they were
attending.
This was not without its problems. I came unstuck a couple of times
when the “stranger” in front of me turned out to be a pretty famous author
(eeeek). No names, no pack-drill. What happens in Harrogate stays in Harrogate,
and all that shit.
Let’s call one of them
Stephen. ‘Cos that’s his name. His other name is Leather and I’ve been reading
and enjoying his thrillers for over 20 years. Anywho, I was sitting chatting
with MATT HILTON (great writer, and a man who is so nice I wanted him to adopt me) and he introduced me to
this guy. I totally missed the name because of the hum of chatter all around
me. I nodded, pretending to hear. As you do. When you're a frickin' numpty. Stephen laughed and said, you’ve never heard
of me, have you?
When Stephen’s attention
was deflected by someone else, I asked Matt – who’s he? When he told me I was
mortified. I apologised later and explained that not only was I aware of him
but I’d read a lot of his stuff over the years. Happily, Stephen doesn’t take
himself too seriously and we ended up going for lunch the next day – and he
even sneaked off and paid the bill before I could. How nice is that?
What’s extra clever about
him is his commercial acumen. Many writers shy away from the business end of
the business, but he is very much aware of it and was in the forefront of the
e-revolution. He could see that e-books were going to be the next big thing and
he positioned himself at the tail end of last year to cash in on the Christmas
rush. I’m not sure of his sales figures in total, but he told me that he’s currently selling around 400 books a day. How about them apples?
I also caught up with the
man with the coolest name in crime fiction, and the biggest hair - Stav Sherez,
the author of The Black Monastery. It’s not often that I get feedback from
authors about the reviews I write for their books, but Stav sought me out to
tell me how much he appreciated mine. He took time to say that out of all his
reviews, mine was the one that really “got” the book. How cool is that? Go HERE for my review over on crimesquad.com. And then go buy the paperback. It is that
good.
(LATE POST - I just received an email from Stav to say that The Black Monastery is now available on kindle for the knockdown price of .99p. Crazy good value. Go KINDLE if you have one and you have 99p to spare.)
(LATE POST - I just received an email from Stav to say that The Black Monastery is now available on kindle for the knockdown price of .99p. Crazy good value. Go KINDLE if you have one and you have 99p to spare.)
There's more. But I need to go and lie down after all that memory work.
Laters!
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Impressions from Harrogate Crime Writing Festival #1
Apologies go out to my
three regular readers – like you care – about the bloggy silence from May
Contain Nuts. It’s down to a mixture of sunshine, busy-ness and a serious case
of getting my sloth on.
I’m also just back from
the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival.
Did I have a good time? Hell, yeah!
Here’s an example of my
good time. I arrived a good few hours before the first event of the weekend –
which was the prize-giving for the Theakston Crime Novel of the Year award (Lee
Child won) and a Lifetime Achievement Award was to be presented to P.D.James –
and I got chatting to old friends at the bar over a glass (or two)of the old
laughing juice. Anywho, time marched on and I was enjoying myself way too much and
it kinda slipped my mind to go inside the conference hall. #hangsheadinshame
The next day I was up and
about surprisingly early. All things considered. And ate heartily of the
breakfast buffet.
There were some
fascinating panels and speakers throughout the weekend. One that surprised me
was Penned In, with a group of writers who had all spent time in prison. I wasn’t
sure what to expect from this one as I don’t really like True Crime. There is a
danger of sensationalising and glamourising criminals and I don’t like the idea
of these people profiting from their crimes.
Their crimes ranged from
perjury to murder and what interested me was the redemptive power of the
written word for each of the men speaking. Each of them were changed by their experiences
and their ability to place words on the page were a huge part in this
growth. Gave me lots of food for
thought. If you can come away from an event and you’ve learned something, or
gained an insight – you can’t ask for much more, can you?
Another panel I enjoyed
included Denise Mina (I could listen to her talking all day long – intelligent and
witty) and Craig Robertson, the author of Random and Snapshot.
Craig has a similar
hairstyle to me (the billiard ball look), he is about the same height and has a
Scottish accent so I wasn’t THAT surprised when three separate people
approached me after the event to tell me I had spoken very well. How they
thought I managed to change out of a grey suit into jeans and a t-shirt and
grow a goatee in the space of 10 minutes is anybody’s guess.
Bald men. We all look the
same clearly.
(This is not me. This is Craig.)
The quiz on Saturday is
always fiercely contested, but any team with me in it can consider itself
seriously hampered. My contribution was nothing short of pathetic. The only
answer I knew was Ian Rankin’s twitter name. But thanks to Russel D. Mclean,
Chris Simmons and Cathi Unsworth and her partner, Mike we came in a respectable
5th.
The last event of the
festival had Mark Billingham on stage interviewing Dennis Lehane. I’ve read
pretty much everything that Mr Lehane has written so I was keen to hear what he
had to say. He was composed, polished and humourous and an absolute delight to
listen to.
Then it was out to the
lawn for a coffee and a chat with the other crimesquad guys before heading north
and real life.
#sighs
Monday, 18 July 2011
An Interview with Tana French
To celebrate the release of Faithful Place, its talented author, Tana French has succumbed to the charms of Crimesquad.com and here is an interview I carried out on their behalf.
My review of Faithful Place can be found HERE and copies of this excellent novel can be purchased in all the usual places. Go on, what you waiting for? Buy a copy already.
MM - Congrats on all the various awards that
have come your way since you first became published. Are you aware of your
audience or high expectations this may bring to subsequent books?
TF - Thank
you very much :-). I don’t think I can afford to think about audience
expectations. For one thing, it would take up too much time and focus – I’ve
never read online reviews, for example, because if I start getting into them
then I’ll never get the next book done! The book I’m currently writing always
takes priority; the ones I’ve finished are the audience’s property now, not
mine.
More
importantly, though, I think focusing on audience expectations is pointless,
because there’s no such thing as ‘the audience’. There are individual readers,
with a huge variety of tastes. The thing one reader loves most about my books
is probably the same thing that another reader hates. There’s no way I can
write anything that will fit all of those tastes. All I can do is write the
best book I can manage, and keep my fingers crossed.
MM - Faithful Place has universal themes (family, home and
loyalty) displayed against the backdrop of a very small locale - was this
juxtaposition a deliberate ploy on your part?
TF - I think
a small, tight-knit place is often the best setting to explore big themes.
That’s where the crucial questions become intensified, distilled. That’s also
why I think murder mystery is one of the best genres in which to explore those
big themes: the characters are quite literally dealing with life and death, they’re
dealing with the most crucial questions of morality and humanity, so the stakes
are raised sky-high and any other issue they’re dealing with becomes
intensified by the context.
MM - Your bio reads that you spent much of your childhood
travelling - has this impacted on your ability to have a “Faithful Place” of
your own?
TF - I think
my international-brat childhood played a big part in shaping Faithful Place.
You’re always fascinated by what’s alien and inaccessible to you, and I’ve
always been fascinated by people and places whose roots go deep – people who
are part of a centuries-old, tight-knit community where every relationship is
shaped by generations’ worth of interaction and knowledge. That’s not something
I’ll ever have, and that’s the world where Faithful Place is set: the
Liberties, an inner-city neighbourhood that’s one of Dublin’s oldest.
At the same time, though, Dublin is
the nearest thing I’ve got to a home. I’ve lived here since 1990; it’s the only
city I know inside out, all the accents, all the short cuts, the sense of
humour and the best pubs. In a lot of ways Faithful Place is a love song
to Dublin, with all its flaws.
MM - Your
bio also reads that you are an actress. How does this impact on your writings?
TF - I
definitely write like an actor. Writing first-person, which is what I do, is a
lot like acting: you’re seeing the whole story through one character’s eyes,
through his or her preconceptions and illusions and biases, and trying to bring
the audience into that character’s world. A lot of readers have told me that
they end up feeling like the characters are real people, close friends whom
they know inside-out; it’s the best compliment I can get.
MM - One of the many things that intrigued me
about Faithful Place was how your main character, Frank had distanced himself
from his family while being paradoxically highly loyal to them. This is of
course the kind of inner tension that creates effective drama in a novel. Was
this part of the plan, or did you discover this aspect of him through the
journey of writing the book?
TF - Frank’s
distanced himself from his family because he believes it’s their fault that his
first love, Rosie Daly, dumped him. On the night when Frank and Rosie were
meant to run away to London together, back when they were nineteen, Rosie never
showed – and Frank figured it was because of his alcoholic father, nutcase
mother, and generally dysfunctional family. Twenty-two years later, when the
book begins, he hasn’t been home since. He thinks he’s completely cut himself
off from Faithful Place, the street where he grew up.
But
when Rosie’s suitcase is found in an abandoned house, it starts to look like
she might not have dumped him at all. That reshapes Frank’s whole view of his
past – and he’s forced to confront the fact that getting your family and your
home out of your system may not be as simple as he wanted to believe. No matter
how far you run, those things shape you, in one way or another. Frank’s spent
years trying his best to convince himself that he’s got no ties to his family,
but those ties are still absolutely real.
I
had the basic premise – the suitcase forcing Frank to come home – before I
started, but the rest developed along the way. I never have a real plan. I’m
wildly jealous of writers who have the whole book outlined before they start
the actual writing. I can’t work that way – I have to figure out who the
characters are, by writing them, before I know what they’d do. So I usually
start with a narrator and a very basic premise, and just dive in and hope to
God there’s a book in there somewhere.
MM - In my view what gives extra interest to
your books is your tactic of “almost” writing a serial while choosing a new
character’s viewpoint for each outing – was that deliberate?
TF - God,
no, I’m nowhere near that organised. But when I started thinking about writing
a second book, I realised that what I’m interested in writing about is the big
turning point in a narrator’s life – the case that changes him or her, for
good. And most of us only have a few of those huge crossroads in our lives. So
I figured either I could keep dumping the same poor narrator into more and more
immense life-changing situations, or I could go down the usual series route of
following the main character through smaller ups and downs – which I love
reading, but wasn’t particularly interested in writing – or I could switch
narrator every time. So I’ve ended up writing a chain of linked books, which I
like. It means I get to do something new each time, because each narrator’s
voice and perspective is a bit different.
MM - You have an engaging lyrical style of writing. Happy
accident or is this something you worked on? Could you also tell us about your
writing influences?
TF - I just
work on writing as well as I possibly can – I’ve never had a specific style in
mind. I’ve always loved books where words become a rich, sensuous pleasure,
though. I can still remember being about six and falling in love with words
when my father read me The Wind in the Willows: ‘He had never seen a
river before, that sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal…’ I love Mary Renault’s
rhythms, the purity of image in T.H. White’s Once and Future King, the
perfect control and beauty of the language in National Velvet – I’ve got
too many influences to name. I think maybe everything you read influences you.
Even something really terrible can make you realise: Oh, OK, that’s why that
didn’t work, I’ll keep that in mind.
MM- What’s next for you? (This question has the sub-text of
asking if we will ever see Rob – from In The Woods – again?)
TF - I’ve
just handed in my fourth book. It’s called Broken Harbour, and the
narrator is Scorcher Kennedy, Frank’s old friend/rival from Faithful Place.
He’s investigating the brutal murders of a young family in one of the
half-abandoned ghost estates that litter Ireland – but did the danger come from
outside the house or inside? I’d love to come back to Rob from In
the Woods someday – I loved writing him. Who knows…
Sunday, 10 July 2011
Paranoid much?
I need to know how to
kill someone without it becoming immediately apparent.
There, I’ve said it.
Eventually, suspicions
will be raised and the police called to investigate. You can relax, people this
is a plot device and not something more nefarious. But how do I find this kind
of stuff out? You try an internet search with the words – killing methods. Or, making enquiries at the local cop shop or
library while using a sentence like the one I began this post with.
And don’t they keep an
eye on these kinds of things? Isn’t there a team of eager beavers employed by
M15/ FBI/ Mossad/ CIA/ News International trawling search engines for just this kind of
dangerous enquiry?
And what if I wanted to
research terrorist stuff, or paedophilia?
They’d be knocking on my
door quicker than you could say News of the World Phone Hackers. And I’d be in
hand-cuffs and hauled off to the local council run underground bunker for a
spot of water-boarding.
I’m remembering news
headlines from a few years back (2003?)when Pete Townshend of The Who was
brought before the beaks when his name was found on a list of people using
their credit card details to download pornographic images of children.
He was
cleared but put on the child offenders’ registry for 5 years.
Townshend later explained
he was sexually abused as a child and, in preparation of a possible autobiography,
he was researching how easily child pornography can be accessed online, in
order to argue that Internet service providers need to become more vigilant.
“It must be time to do something more concrete to stop the proliferation of
questionable pornography that seems so readily and openly facilitated by the
Internet,” he later wrote about the experience.
He’s since been reviled
across the globe but continues to protest his innocence. I’m content to go with
the authorities on this one given that they presumably have all the facts, but
my thought was - all that heartache in the name of research?
Incredibly naive, don’tcha
think?
So good people, what
research projects have you embarked on that has you looking over your
shoulders?
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Blue Valentine
I got the blues. Well, I
had them and it lasted till the morning after I watched this excellent movie. Michelle
Williams and Ryan Gosling are outstanding in this heartfelt piece of filming.
They each fully commit to their roles and completely convince you about the
part they play in this story about the end of a relationship.
WARNING – don’t watch on
a first/second date, unless you’re a dude and you’re trying to impress your new
lady friend with your “sensitivity”. Nah, even then don’t do it. In fact
couples should only watch it if they have a certain level of maturity.
The film moves back and
forward –beautifully timed, linked and edited BTW – between the beginning of
the end of the relationship and the actual beginning. The seeds are sown in the
early parts of the movie – we see
Dean is a good guy; kind and thoughtful with
a good sense of humour. Cindy is the nurturing type, looking after her
grandmother, accepting perfunctory sex from an earlier boyfriend (who makes her
pregnant) and we also get to see the boorish behaviour of her father at home
which perhaps explains why she accepts the asshole boyfriend.
Dean and Cindy meet. They
fall in love and then the movie splices back to the deterioration of their marriage
and your emotions get all in a tangle. Sure, the reason they got hitched was
flawed, but they loved each other didn’t they? How could a couple with such potential
end in this way?
Who’s to blame? No one.
Both of them. You get to decide. (And I’m wondering what the gender divide is
on this one.)
There are several scenes
that time will show us rank amongst the most iconic moments in cinema history.
A couple in particular spring immediately to mind. Dean and Cindy are in front
of a shop. Dean is singing in a goofy, Elvis voice and Cindy is dancing to his
tune in her best early level tap dance. This is a heart-warming moment, full of
charm. If it doesn’t make you smile you need to crack open your ribs with those
thingies you see on E.R and check if there’s a heart beating inside you.
Another scene
demonstrates how far they have fallen. Dean rents a room in a motel. They need
to spend more time together. We see them in the shower. Cindy gives Dean the
cold shoulder. Later on she invites him to join her on the floor. We can see
her self-loathing, her cringe from his touch and she eggs him on to violence,
demanding punishment as an act of love. Dean refuses. He’s not that guy. He can’t
and won’t hit her.
This is a brave movie
filled with uncomfortable moments and heightened by award-winning performances
(if they didn’t, they should have) from the 2 main leads. It avoids the
well-trodden tropes of Hollywood – the man is not a violent addict/ drunk spending
all hours at work, the woman is not a ball-busting harridan/ addict/ drunk/
reformed prostitute. We don’t get fed the usual three act format (you know, #1
-guy wins girl - #2 guy loses girl - #3 guy wins girl back) instead we are
treated to a fly on the wall examination of a couple who have simply fallen out
of love. Shit happens and there isn’t always a pat reason for it and that is
perhaps the bravest thing of all for this moviemaker to demonstrate.
Definitely not a
picker-uper – more for when you feel the need to reflect or to get the old grey
matter working. Or when you want to watch two talented actors do what they do best.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
book review - Denise Mina
There's a new load of reviews just been posted over at CRIMESQUAD and here's one wot I wrote about Denise Mina's latest - End of the Wasp Season.
What's it all about ...?
When notorious
millionaire banker Lars Anderson hangs himself from the old oak tree in front
of his Kent mansion his death attracts little sympathy. One less shark is
little loss to a world nursing a financial hangover. But the legacy of a life
time of self-serving is widespread, the carnage most acute among those he ought
to be protecting: his family. He leaves behind two deeply damaged children and
a broken wife.
Meanwhile, in a wealthy
suburb of Glasgow, a young woman is found savagely murdered in her home. The
genteel community is stunned by what appears a vicious, random attack. When DS
Alex Morrow, heavily pregnant with twins, is called in to investigate, she soon
discovers that behind the murder lurks a tangled web of lies. A web that will
spiral through the local community, through Scotland and ultimately right back
to a swinging rope hundreds of miles away.
What did I make of it ...?
This is the second book
in which Denise Mina brings us the character of DS Morrow and for me is the one where
she really gets into her groove with this individual. I use the word
“individual” deliberately because Morrow is so well drawn she feels like a real
person. Next time I’m up in Glasgow I fully expect to bump into her.
It’s in the depiction of
her characters where Mina excels. A little slice of description, an action,
some carefully crafted dialogue and they take flesh before your eyes. Adding
heft to this is her ability to record the interaction between her characters:
to demonstrate their finely nuanced behaviour.
End of the Wasp Season is
ostensibly a police procedural, but Denise Mina’s talent takes it beyond any
perceived limitations of that sub-genre into a multi-layered human drama. With
a dollop of violence and generous helping of mystery to keep us crime addicts
happy. As a reader you know pretty much from the off “who-dunnit” but that’s
not the point of this excellent novel. This is people-watching on an intimate and
at times uncomfortable level.
And it’s this ability to
draw her characters that makes you care. Mina enlists your sympathy even for
the suspected killer, despite the fact he’s spoiled rotten and given every
advantage in life. Real life is never that straightforward. We life in a world
of contrast, a rainbow of gray if you will, and few writers highlight that as
well as Denise Mina does.
If you prefer a read chock full
of red-herrings and the chance to deduce who the bad-guy is, this is not the
book for you. I can also understand if
readers who are new to Denise Mina feel the pace lags in places. For me, however, End of the Wasp Season is a vibrant,
thought-provoking read and one that is an excellent addition to this talented
author’s oeuvre.
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Trash Talk
During an If You Can’t
Beat Them Join Them moment, the May Contain Nuts team (that would be me)
decided to offer you some celebrity gossip. For “gossip” read “any old shit”.
For “celebrity” read “who are they again?” (I would provide photos to help with
the old identification thing but I really can’t be arsed.)
Shocking news backstage
from the U.K. X-Factor auditions. Gary Barlow aka Gazza, aka the used to be
chubby one, aka the one who knows how to wring every last £ from a pop song ...
has said that there is actually very little real talent out there. Britain
gasps with shock and has a sit down with a wee cup of tea and some custard
creams. Nonetheless, his “spokesperson”added, we will still manage to find a
bunch of girls who can’t sing and bring them together and try to persuade the
nation they are The Next Big Thing. They’ll also probably find a bolshy lass
from a council estate, a yoof who’s working his way through an asbo and a
novelty act with big hair and two left feet that Louie will offer a record
deal (particularly if they are from the oul’ country).
Gwyneth Paltrow, actress,
gleeful singer(ish) and fashion designer (of a sort) has dinner with business
mogul Sir Philip Green. Apparently they talked about all kinds of stuff. And ate and drank stuff. In the photos taken
by a very helpful waiter – and sold to the tabloids for a week’s wage – Sir
Philip is looking very tanned. Gwyneth not so much.
Harry Windsor, just in
case you is not totally up to date, he is like, 2nd in line to the,
like, king-hat thingy. Oops, MCN is forgetting Charles. Anywho, Harry Ginger,
son of Princess Di (there, our circulation figs go through da roof) is dating a
(get this) underwear model. Ooooh. Granny Liz says – we are not amused. One
needs to sow one’s oats, but puhleeze not with a gel who takes her clothes orf
in public. Florence Double Barrel Name, aforementioned underwear model, has
links to the aristocracy, which is nice, but all things considered that won’t
get her an invite to Braemar for drinkies of a winter’s evening.
In other news, Katie
Price wants implants in her bum. A “source” close to the celeb says she’s
worried that if her giant tits spontaneously deflate she’ll be left with a
figure like a boy. Peter Andre is totally considering botox (try a paper bag
mate), Cheryl Cole has gone blonde and is retiring from showbiz (wait, no she
isn’t. Oh yes she is. Oh no she isn’t.) And in a piece of news in which we get
to celebrate our inner bitch when we really should be leaving this troubled celeb
alone, reports say that Amy Winehouse managed to get through an entire song.
She’s hoping she can bring the bathroom mirror and hairbrush on stage with her
for the next gig.
And finally there are a
whole host of celebrity birthdays today but due to a lack of verification
(don’t these people make this shit up?) we’re not going to publish them. We
wouldn’t want to be accused of inaccuracy.
Right, I'm off to have my tongue surgically removed from the inside of my cheek.
Until next time ...
Sunday, 26 June 2011
#amreading - Beautiful, Naked and Dead by Josh Stallings
Moses McGuire is
depressed, hard drinking, ex-con, and ex-military, and he’s on the edge of
suicide. When he gets an urgent phone call from the one woman in the world he
considers his only true friend, Kelly, a waitress at Club Xtasy in East L.A.,
the "titty bar" where Moses works as a doorman, Mo puts all thoughts
of doing himself in on the back burner.
Kelly is in some
kind of trouble and needs Mo's help. But Mo, being as damaged as he is, and
trying hard to overcompensate by playing pseudo daddy-hero to the women at the
strip club he sees as lost little girls, bungles the one time that his heroism
really matters. Instead of running straight to Kelly when he realizes she's not
at the club, he stalls, has a few drinks and allows one of the other dancers to
give him a quickie lap dance.
By the time he
gets there, he finds that he’s too late. She’s been brutally tortured before
being murdered. Moses manages to pull his self together and decides to track
down the scumbags responsible for killing her. He sells his motorcycle, buys an
old Crown Victoria, and a goes on a road trip - a no holds barred, take no
prisoners, kill em' all, rampage.
Did I like it?
Lemme give you a
hell yeah! Loved it. This excellent stuff, right out of the top drawer. It’s
hard to believe that Josh Stallings hasn’t been picked up by one of the major
publishers. He writes like a dream, his action is tense and unpredictable and
his characters utterly convincing.
This is visceral
stuff, not for the faint of heart and an indication of the talent that the
mainstream publishing houses are losing out on while digital grows in strength.
Fans of noir
fiction take note. Josh Stallings is one to watch out for and he deserves a
huge audience. Get yourself onto to his site and buy a copy of his book. Like, NOW.
£2.83 for a kindle copy is ridiculously cheap. What you waiting for? Get over there
already.
Josh Stallings is
your average ex-criminal, ex-taxi driver, ex-club bouncer, film making, script
writing, award winning trailer editing, punk. Over his time in
Hollywood he wrote and edited the feature film “The Ice Runner,” a
Russian/American co-production. “Kinda Cute for a White-Boy” an independent
feature he directed and co-wrote with novelist Tad Williams, won best picture
at the Savanah International Film Festival. He also wrote “Ground Zero Texas,”
a best selling Sony video game with Edward Neumeier (writer of RoboCop).
His first novel BEAUTIFUL, NAKED & DEAD is garnering great notice from
readers and reviewers alike. OUT THERE BAD (Moses #2) will be
published early summer. He is currently working on the third Moses
McGuire novel. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife Erika, his
bullmastiff Nelson, Lucy the lab pit mix and Riddle the cat.
You can read more about Josh Stallings at his
website HERE!!!
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