I’ve had a bit of a break from ‘the C-word’ this week and caught up with my reading. After all, you can’t produce if you don’t consume – and Garth Merenghi’s the only writer who’s written more books than he’s read.
I finished George RR Martin’s ‘a storm of swords’ and started Chelsea Cain’s ‘kill you twice’ – and my bath books are Christopher Brookmyre’s ‘where the bodies are buried’ and Miles Davis’ autobiography.
I saw Brookmyre reading in Dunfermline recently. If you aren’t familiar with his work, he’s like a Glasgow writer except he doesn’t support Celtic FC (I know. Difficult to imagine, isn’t it?)
Live, he’s very very funny, sharing a number of his one-star reviews for ‘quite ugly one morning’ and reading a section from the newie, ‘flesh wounds’.
This is the first of his straight up crime novels I’ve read. The style, the overall voice are the same, but with the trademark coffin humour reined right in.
Clelsea Cain’s ‘Archie and Gretchen’ series are best described as ‘Hannibal Lector – with a uterus – for young adults’.
‘Kill you twice’ isn’t her best (not so far, anyway) but both Brookmyre and Irvine Welsh have had points where their books felt formulaic and both writers grew out of it and went on to create great, surprising work.
I’m going to finish this anyway. I’m already interested in the characters from books 1-4, even if no-one’s really moving forward (yet) in this one.
I’ve tried watching ‘game of thrones’ and, having read the first couple of books already, found it flat and disappointing. I’ve now got three of the novels under my belt and I’m utterly hooked. This is so good you just know weak and insipid hacks are already gearing up to copy this. This is Ellroy’s ‘american tabloid’ with swords and dragons, ‘lord of the rings’ based on the British government (David Cameron as Joffrey, anyone?)
I’m quite literally cheering the goodies and booing the baddies while reading, an experience I don’t think I’ve had before.
I’m only a couple of chapters into the Miles Davis autobiography and already, the most used word is ‘motherfucker’. It’s been used to describe everything from Dizzy Gillespie’s playing to how Miles’ mother dressed when he was a kid. Gleefully enthusiastic like a hipster Frank Booth.
As I say, I’ve only scratched the surface of this just now, Miles is still a child, but has *just* discovered music, announcing in his 78 RPM fashion that it was going to push aside all other interests.
(Oh yeah. I finished ‘kill you twice’. What a superb ending! The whole book set up that ending (and the next one). She definately had me fooled!)

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Why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)

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A love story – on home-made acid – narrated by someone first used romatically, then set on fire, by the blue peter team, capering around the pyre like wrinkled vikings.

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