Monday Night Tipple

I have a few good reasons for enjoying this glass of plonk (it's got ice in it 'cause I'm dead classy that way) on a Monday night. First off, I'm taking leave from the day-job tomorrow. Secondly, I've a pretty exciting trip to Dublin planned. I managed to blag my way into Declan Burke's excellent Down These Green Streets and it's getting the launch treatment down at the Gutter Bookshop, Temple Bar, at 6PM -- and they've not barred me yet (full details can be found at CAP). And thirdly, I got word today that my short story, Aul Yellah Belly, will be included in Maxim Jakubowski's Mammoth Book of Best British Crime Volume 9 (due to be published in Spring 2012).

Yes.

YES.

YES!

Not too shabby for a Monday.

I'll need to get my finger out from Wednesday, though. Danny from Pulp Press sent me a wee email today to let me know there's an edit coming my way. And as of last week I've got a shit-tonne of work to do on the novel-in-progress. You see, uber-agent, Allan Guthrie (happy birthday, Al!), has had a read and pointed out the bits that need a spit-shine as well as the chunks that need the chainsaw treatment.

But for right now... glug, glug, glug.

Andrew Pepper at No Alibis Tonight!

No Alibis invite you to celebrate the launch of Andrew Pepper's latest Pyke novel, BLOODY WINTER, on Wednesday 1st June at 6:30PM.

Andrew Pepper is a lecturer in American Writing and Contemporary Crime Fiction at Queen's University, Belfast. His first novel, THE LAST DAYS OF NEWGATE, was shortlisted for the CWA NEW BLOOD AWARD. He lives in Belfast with his partner and children.


A body is discovered in a ditch outside the town of Dundrum in County Tipperary. The local land agent tells Knox, a young Irish policeman with divided loyalties, that it is the body of a vagrant and that the landowner Lord Cornwallis wants the case dealt with swiftly and quietly. The potato crop has failed for a second time and the Irish people are dying in their thousands. However when Knox examines the corpse it is clear that this man died wearing a Saville Row suit. Keeping his investigations secret, it becomes clear to Knox that the stranger came from London. Three months earlier Detective Inspector Pyke receives a letter from the daughter of a family friend. She has married a wealthy industrialist who owns ironworks in Merthyd Tydfil and her son has been kidnapped. Lured by the promise of a substantial fee and wanting to escape the tensions of Scotland Yard, Pyke agrees to go to Wales to investigate. There, he discovers a town riven with social discord following the brutal suppression of a workers strike and the importation of cheap Irish labour. The kidnapping is linked to a group of rebels but Pyke soon begins to suspect the case is not as clear cut as it seems. What are the links between the rebellion in Wales and the unrest in Ireland, and has Pyke finally bitten off more than he can chew?

To book your spot, email David, or call the shop on 9031 9607.

LA Noire

There's an interesting article over at Culture NI on the art of video gaming, penned by Peter McCaughan. He takes a look at the latest Rockstar Games offering, LA Noire, and contemplates its artistic value. James Ellroy is cited as an influence...

In the last few weeks, I've taken advantage of some writing downtime to get reaquainted with gaming. I'm currently button-mashing my way through Red Dead Redemption, LA Noire's Rockstar Games predecessor, and enjoying the mind-numbing stress relief it brings. The cut scenes are too long and you spend a hell of a lot of time trotting from one place to another on your trusty steed but all in all it's pretty good fun. I'll probably give this LA Noire one a turn when the price drops in a few months time, provided I'm not neck deep in a new project.

And yes, I realise I'm almost 32 years old, but hey, I'm from the Super Mario generation.

Anyway, to bring this back to Northern Irish crime fiction, Culture NI are also hosting an article by Garbhan Downey on Brian McGilloway's latest release, Little Girl Lost. Check that out too.

Badass Reflections

Born in the summer of ’79, Gerard Brennan lives in a small seaside town in the North of Ireland with his beautiful wife Michelle and his incredible daughter Mya. When he is not studying to become a soulless accountant he writes dark fiction and bad poetry. He also writes kung fu movie reviews for www.steelsamurai.co.uk. To keep tabs on his writing success (or lack thereof) visit http://gerardbrennan.livejournal.com.

So reads my biography in the BADASS HORROR anthology published by Dybbuk Press in 2006. My contribution, Pool Sharks, was the first short story I sold for actual money. Fifty dollars, in fact. It was a benchmark that took quite a while to surpass in my fledgling writing career. But I’m not rattling these keys to whinge about money. My kids are fed and clothed thanks to my day job. It’d be ungrateful of me to complain about the lack of readies I receive from my part-time (for now) career as a writer. What I’m more interested in is how much has changed since I sold this story.

My birthday remains the same and I still live in that small seaside town (Dundrum) with my wife and daughter. Michelle and Mya remain beautiful and incredible. In fact they both get more beautiful and incredible every day. I fear for my heart. But in the last few years we’ve introduced two more kids to the family, my sons, Jack and Oscar (both awesome little dudes). We also have a wee fluffy puppy called Charlie.

I gave up studying to become an accountant when my job stopped funding it. To be honest, as the family grew and time became more precious I was looking for an excuse to throw in the calculator. So I’m part-qualified (half-assed) but still working in finance. I haven’t written a poem in some time.

www.steelsamurai.co.uk no longer exists and my reviews are lost in cyberspace. The driving force behind that site, my childhood pal, Gareth Watson, is working on a re-launch of my website, though. He’s not the type of guy to let skills and learning experiences go to waste. The design is looking great so far.

And I’ve drawn a line under my Live Journal account. Nothing personal, I just couldn’t run this blog and that journal at the same time.

So I think I need to write a new short biography in case I write (and hopefully sell) a short story in the next few months. Here goes:

Gerard Brennan lives in Dundrum, Northern Ireland with his wife, Michelle and their kids, Mya, Jack and Oscar. He co-edited Requiems for the Departed, a collection of crime fiction based on Irish myths which won the 2011 Spinetingler Award for best anthology. His novella, The Point, will be published by Pulp Press in late 2011.

I’ve had to cut a few recent achievements of which I’m proud as these things are generally around fifty words long. Looking at the bio originally printed in BADASS HORROR I can’t help but think I had to pad it out back then…

Incidentally, BADASS HORROR is available on Kindle at the very low price of £0.69 until the end of this month (also available on Amazon.com). It’s also how I met Mike Stone, my co-editor on Requiems for the Departed. And it’s got a story by the accomplished actor, Michael Boatman, who I’ll always remember as Carter from Spin City.

Yes, I would say that...

I was very kindly invited to do a guest blog over at Paul D Brazill's excellent blog, You Would Say That, Wouldn't You? Stop by if you want to hear me slabberin' about the lack of time I have to write and what I try to do about it.

It starts like this:

A few weeks ago I was Tweeting or Facebooking or LinkedIning with Paul D Brazill (the dude gets around so it’s hard to keep track) and I happened to mention that I was trying to give my web presence a bit of a boost now that life was returning to some semblance of normality. You see, last July, me and my lovely missus welcomed our third child into the world. Oscar Brennan. A little blessing; healthy, hardy, handsome as hell, but he also had a killer case of insomnia. On top of this, I was lucky enough to secure a promotion at the day job which brought in an extra slice of bacon each month but sucked up a lot more of my time and energy in return. So my blog, Crime Scene NI, went on hiatus, as did my social networking, but much worse than this… I hadn’t the energy to write.

For the rest, click here.

I'm dead cultured, me...

My review of Adrian McKinty's Falling Glass is now up at Culture NI.

You can also read a feature on the very spiffy site in which Adrian chats about his previous novel, Fifty Grand, making the Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year long list.

Four Irish writers on that list this year, which is a fantastic representation on the great work coming out of this island. Huge congrats to Adrian McKinty, Stuart Neville, Alan Glynn and William Ryan. Peruse the list here.

Open Season by C.J. Box -- A Thought or Three

I've just finished reading Open Season by C.J. Box. Corvus are part way through a mass release of Box's titles and I'm a few months behind... but after reading the first in the Joe Pickett series, I wish I'd picked it up sooner.

For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I did not expect to enjoy this book. Maybe the story just seemed quite alien to my own experiences. Plus I've drenched myself in Northern Irish crime fiction for the last few years. Could be I've fashioned myself a pair of literary blinkers, so it's probably a very good thing that I've gone for something completely different this time.

The story follows Pickett, a game warden in Twelve Sleep, Wyoming, who is thrown into the ordeal of his life after a man who once terribly embarrassed him in the line of duty, arrives in the middle of the night and dies from gunshot wounds in Joe Pickett's backyard. Pickett fixates on the fact that his visitor, Ote, carried with him an empty cooler. Well, not quite empty. He finds some small droppings that he, a man of nature, can't identify and his imagination is captured. From this point the conspiracy begins to untangle. Pickett must face many challenges, both physical and emotional, in an attempt to do the right thing and protect his family.

The most appealing aspect of this novel, to me, is the depth of Joe Pickett's character. C.J. Box gives us an endearing protagonist with a strong set of morals and a few special skills that sets him apart from Joe Ordinary. However, Box also expertly implants a few flaws that will keep the reader in a constant state of worry. Joe has many "bone-head" moments that seem to bring him as much trouble as any of the sinister outside elements he encounters. It is impossible to dislike this character, though at times you can pity him a little too much. I'm interested in seeing how he develops throughout the rest of the series.

Another element of this novel that kept me turning pages is the otherworldliness of the setting. This was first published in 2001 and as such, mobile phone technology (to take one example) is pretty much absent (which at times heightens the tension). Also, Wyoming is a part of the world that I knew relatively little about before approaching this book. But after living in Joe Pickett's head for almost 300 pages, I feel like I've learned a little something about a society that is highly passionate about guns and seasonal hunting (hence the need for game wardens like Joe Pickett, I guess).

So, if you're looking for something altogether different, maybe Open Season, in the heart of a beautifully portrayed Wyoming, is the book for you this summer.

Friday, and I'm feeling good...

Cracking day, isn't it? But if, like me, you're stuck in the office for the next few hours, you could do worse than to check out a few of the notable reviews I've enjoyed this week.

Wayne Simmons on Somebody Owes Me Money by Donald E Westlake

Bookwitch on Falling Glass by Adrian McKinty

Culture NI on the experimental short film Unsound

And then there's this feature on e-publishing by Declan Burke.

But if you're outside, enjoying the sun, maybe sipping on a cool drink (alcohol optional), then more power to you. Come the fourth hour, I'm out of here. I'm only an hour away from home. Reckon there'll be time to lounge in the back garden with a Carlsberg for an hour or two before putting the kids to bed... Bliss.

Best of the Brits (and a few Irish)

Today's the official release date of The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 8. And they're flogging it on Amazon for a measly £5.11 in paperback... And what are you getting for this sum? Here's the official info from the publisher's website:

Over 35 new short stories from the UK's leading crime writers. The must-have annual anthology for every crime fiction fan – the year’s top new British short stories selected by leading crime critic Maxim Jakubowski.

This great annual covers the full range of mystery fiction, from noir and hardboiled crime to ingenious puzzles and amateur sleuthing. Packed with top names such as: Ian Rankin (including a new Rebus), Alexander McCall Smith, David Hewson, Christopher Brookmyre, Simon Kernick, A.L. Kennedy, Louise Walsh, Kate Atkinson, Colin Bateman, Stuart McBride and Andrew Taylor.

The full list of contributors is as follows: Ian Rankin, Mick Herron, Denise Mina, Edward Marston, Marilyn Todd, Kate Atkinson, Stuart MacBride, David Hewson, Alexander McCall Smith, Nigel Bird, Robert Barnard, Lin Anderson, Allan Guthrie, A.L. Kennedy, Simon Kernick, Roz Southey, Andrew Taylor, Sheila Quigley, Phil Lovesey, Declan Burke, Keith McCarthy, Christopher Brookmyre, Gerard Brennan, Matthew J. Elliott, Colin Bateman, Ray Banks, Simon Brett, Adrian Magson, Jay Stringer, Amy Myers, Nick Quantrill, Stephen Booth, Paul Johnston, Zoë Sharp, Paul D. Brazill, Peter Lovesey, Louise Welsh, Liza Cody, Peter Turnbull and Nicholas Royle.

So, come on now! Get your copy today, people. Click here.

Simmons on Faust

Wayne Simmons has plenty to say about Christa Faust's Money Shot over at the excellent Dark Central Station website. I've read (and recommended) this book so I'm delighted that it's struck a chord with Northern Ireland's answer to (a young) Stephen King. At the time I read it, baby Oscar had just arrived at the Brennan household and I was in no shape to be writing reviews. Luckily, I agree with everything Wayne Simmons says in his piece.

Will this foray into pulp fiction be enough to set the cogs whirring in Wayne's twisted mind? Maybe send him to some dark, pulpy places in his next project? I do hope so.

Enjoy the review!