Brit Grit Alley features news and updates on what's happening down British crime fiction's booze and blood soaked alleyways.
Declan Burke's Absolute Zero Cool was probably my favourite novel of last year and his latest release, Slaughter's Hound, looks to be another corker. Here's a taste:
“I glanced up but he’d already jumped, a dark blur plummeting, wings folded against the drag like some starving hawk out of the noon sun, some angel betrayed. He punched through the cab’s roof so hard he sent metal shearing into the petrol tank. All it took was one spark. Boom . . .”
Fireproof is Gerard Brennan's follow up to the splendid Wee Rocket's and is a hell of a change of direction. Here's the blurb:
'Hell hath no fury for Mike Rocks. He's fireproof; an anomaly caused by a slip-up in afterlife bureaucracy. Lucifer bundles him off as an embarrassing problem with a mission to introduce Satanism to Northern Ireland. And while he's at it, Mike can exact revenge on the men who took his life.
FIREPROOF is equal parts crime fiction, dark urban fantasy and black comedy. For fans of Colin Bateman, Charlie Huston and Duane Swierczynski.'
Tom Gillespie's debut novel Painting By Numbers is due out soon and looks more than somewhat intriguing:
'Day after day, Jacob Boyce – faltering academic and failing husband – visits a 17th century allegorical painting which hangs in a Glasgow art gallery. By using a series of measurements and calculations, he attempts to create a mathematical theory that will decipher the code locked into its canvas.
As more of the painting’s hidden secrets are revealed, and he meets a mysterious young woman, Jacob’s life spirals into chaos.
The object of his obsession has begun to move.'
And Douglas Lindsay's We Are The Hanged Man will be on sale before you can bat an eyelid, too.
'When the latest hit reality TV show, Britain's Got Justice, needs an expert police panellist, DCI Robert Jericho's boss thrusts him into the media spotlight, knowing full well that Jericho has been desperate to avoid the limelight since his wife's unexplained disappearance ten years ago.
With the press now hounding his every move, there's nowhere to hide.
Meanwhile, a killer, newly released from prison, resumes the bone-chilling handiwork for which he was locked away thirty years earlier.
Sinister tarot cards turn up on Jericho's desk, each one more grotesque than its predecessor. As he investigates a series of seemingly unrelated deaths, he becomes aware that a noose is gradually tightening around his throat. '
Sounds like a beut!
Oh, and Katy O' Dowd has a gab with H.J. Hampson about her dark satire The Vanity Game, here.
See you soon, same Brit Grit Time, same Brit Grit Channel.