Thursday, 13 March 2008
Help!
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
The Obligation to Tell the Truth
Just wanted to stir up some pre-release publicity for Gallows Lane and the Pan paperback of Borderlands, which will be on sale from 4th April.
Crime Always Pays has posted the first review of Gallows Lane here.
In addition Shots Magazine are running a feature on the books here.
Finally, Declan at Crime Always Pays has allowed me to guest blog. My first posting follows and deals with the obligation to tell the truth in crime fiction. I’m interested to know what non-crime writers think about this? Do you feel a similar obligation in your particular genre (if you are a genre writer) to tell the ‘truth’?
‘The Obligation to Tell the Truth’
This past week in Strabane, a twenty seven year old man was abducted, taken just over the border, shot twice in the chest, and left to die outside a small Catholic church. The man’s murder caused outrage and rumour in equal measure in the local area.
Twenty miles away, a man having served eight years of a sixteen year sentence for the rape of a 91 year old woman who died two weeks later of a heart attack perhaps precipitated by her ordeal, was released from prison and moved into a small farmhouse near a community with a number of lone, aged females. Those in the surrounding area have no control over who has moved into their midst. Some argue that the man has served his sentence. Others argue that his seeming lack of remorse and refusal to comply with police procedures make him unsafe in such a community.
These two events have unsurprisingly featured highly in our local media this past week. However, on a more personal level, in recent days, over a dozen of my colleagues have smiled knowingly at me and said; ‘That’s the plot of your next book taken care of then, eh?’
Whilst the comment was, for the most part, intended in a good-humoured way, and I’m not in the least egotistical enough to see a link between the two things, it did set me thinking. Firstly, I found the recent shooting both shocking and deeply frightening. Strabane/Lifford is a small, fairly tight-knit community. Murders happening in large cities are somehow more anonymous, though none the less horrible for that. In a small community though, it’s perfectly possible that the man who pulled the trigger that killed the 27 year old Strabane man, or who raped a 91 year old spinster, could be standing behind my wife and children in the corner shop, could be the person who drives the bus into town, offers you the Sign of Peace in Church. Someone who thought little of taking another person’s life in such a brutal and violent manner.
Secondly, the quip about the Devlin books also gave me pause for thought. As I started drafting book 4, The Rising, I found myself questioning the use of violence and crime in the books I write and those I read. In a time when Hollywood seems preoccupied with violence as the new pornography, is there something deeply flawed in using crime for entertainment?
But that, to my mind, disregards the purpose of crime fiction. I wrote my first novel around the time of the birth of my first son. I am convinced that that event was at least a catalyst in my writing. Nothing creates an awareness of the threats of the world quite as much as a new-born child. Particularly in post-Troubles Ireland, where a mixture of the Ceasefire and increased affluence has, paradoxically, seemed to create more criminal activity. And as the cases of this week show, all too often justice is not done, or those who commit crimes not necessarily brought to justice in a manner most people would like.
Yet crime fiction allows that to happen, imposing some form of morality and order on a world that seems increasingly lacking in both. Our detectives in books achieve clearance rates massively above the average in Ireland. And perhaps offer us some vicarious hope that good will always triumph. The books themselves allow us to safely face our fears, safe in the knowledge that some form of resolution will be imposed in a manner unlike real life, much as the ancient Greeks experienced catharsis watching dramatic tragedies.
Whilst I wouldn’t claim that crime fiction necessarily matches Greek Tragedy, its purpose and its appeal in raising difficult issues to a wide reading public far outstrips most literary novels. James Lee Burke argues that it is the artist’s obligation to ‘tell the truth about the period he lives in and to expose those who exploit their fellow man.’ I believe few genres are as well placed to do this in modern Ireland than the crime novel and so, as I started writing The Rising today, I did so, not with a voyeuristic use of violence, but a dedication to deal truthfully with issues that affect myself, my children, and those who live in Ireland in 2008. In this I believe I am no different from any other writer named in this blog over the past year.
And I am proud to be among their ranks.
In addition Shots Magazine are running a feature on the books here.
Finally, Declan at Crime Always Pays has allowed me to guest blog. My first posting follows and deals with the obligation to tell the truth in crime fiction. I’m interested to know what non-crime writers think about this? Do you feel a similar obligation in your particular genre (if you are a genre writer) to tell the ‘truth’?
‘The Obligation to Tell the Truth’
This past week in Strabane, a twenty seven year old man was abducted, taken just over the border, shot twice in the chest, and left to die outside a small Catholic church. The man’s murder caused outrage and rumour in equal measure in the local area.
Twenty miles away, a man having served eight years of a sixteen year sentence for the rape of a 91 year old woman who died two weeks later of a heart attack perhaps precipitated by her ordeal, was released from prison and moved into a small farmhouse near a community with a number of lone, aged females. Those in the surrounding area have no control over who has moved into their midst. Some argue that the man has served his sentence. Others argue that his seeming lack of remorse and refusal to comply with police procedures make him unsafe in such a community.
These two events have unsurprisingly featured highly in our local media this past week. However, on a more personal level, in recent days, over a dozen of my colleagues have smiled knowingly at me and said; ‘That’s the plot of your next book taken care of then, eh?’
Whilst the comment was, for the most part, intended in a good-humoured way, and I’m not in the least egotistical enough to see a link between the two things, it did set me thinking. Firstly, I found the recent shooting both shocking and deeply frightening. Strabane/Lifford is a small, fairly tight-knit community. Murders happening in large cities are somehow more anonymous, though none the less horrible for that. In a small community though, it’s perfectly possible that the man who pulled the trigger that killed the 27 year old Strabane man, or who raped a 91 year old spinster, could be standing behind my wife and children in the corner shop, could be the person who drives the bus into town, offers you the Sign of Peace in Church. Someone who thought little of taking another person’s life in such a brutal and violent manner.
Secondly, the quip about the Devlin books also gave me pause for thought. As I started drafting book 4, The Rising, I found myself questioning the use of violence and crime in the books I write and those I read. In a time when Hollywood seems preoccupied with violence as the new pornography, is there something deeply flawed in using crime for entertainment?
But that, to my mind, disregards the purpose of crime fiction. I wrote my first novel around the time of the birth of my first son. I am convinced that that event was at least a catalyst in my writing. Nothing creates an awareness of the threats of the world quite as much as a new-born child. Particularly in post-Troubles Ireland, where a mixture of the Ceasefire and increased affluence has, paradoxically, seemed to create more criminal activity. And as the cases of this week show, all too often justice is not done, or those who commit crimes not necessarily brought to justice in a manner most people would like.
Yet crime fiction allows that to happen, imposing some form of morality and order on a world that seems increasingly lacking in both. Our detectives in books achieve clearance rates massively above the average in Ireland. And perhaps offer us some vicarious hope that good will always triumph. The books themselves allow us to safely face our fears, safe in the knowledge that some form of resolution will be imposed in a manner unlike real life, much as the ancient Greeks experienced catharsis watching dramatic tragedies.
Whilst I wouldn’t claim that crime fiction necessarily matches Greek Tragedy, its purpose and its appeal in raising difficult issues to a wide reading public far outstrips most literary novels. James Lee Burke argues that it is the artist’s obligation to ‘tell the truth about the period he lives in and to expose those who exploit their fellow man.’ I believe few genres are as well placed to do this in modern Ireland than the crime novel and so, as I started writing The Rising today, I did so, not with a voyeuristic use of violence, but a dedication to deal truthfully with issues that affect myself, my children, and those who live in Ireland in 2008. In this I believe I am no different from any other writer named in this blog over the past year.And I am proud to be among their ranks.
Congratulations Eliza
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Research!
I just posted a bit of waffle about notebooks on my blog, and I thought I'd ask my MNW brethren how you all keep track of your research. What are the most interesting (or odd) things you have notes on? The dullest?
Saturday, 8 March 2008
Stand up, Peter Anthony
Stand up, Peter Anthony, and take a bow for getting a very nice write-up in the Borders' New Authors hand-out from none other than Susan Hill, best-selling British novelist:
A Town Called Immaculate
'A heavy snow storm in rural America and one man saves the life of another. The past, love and loyalties surface through the storms... a touching and satisfying human story.'
A Town Called Immaculate
'A heavy snow storm in rural America and one man saves the life of another. The past, love and loyalties surface through the storms... a touching and satisfying human story.'
This Month's Publication
(Note from David and Matt: We have not been able to contact Mr. Bird; therefore there is no interview this month. If you happen to know how to contact him, please invite him to join the group!)
An extraordinary story of treachery, tenacity and tea.
When the late Edward Butler’s Will informs his spoiled heir that his sole inheritance is a sprawling coffee plantation in distant Ceylon, young John Butler resentfully decides to travel there from his home in Manchester to sign the deeds – and sell the estate as soon as possible (in order to repay his vast gambling debts).
But his plans soon go awry. Taunted by brutal plantation-owner William Paget, John rashly determines to make a go of it. Soon after his arrival in sweltering Ceylon, a storm ravages the estate and destroys what remains of his already blighted coffee-crop. John is about to give up for good and go home when he discovers among the ruined trees a sturdy crop of tea-bushes.
Soon, Butler’s tea plantation is thriving, he has fallen in love and he is starting to feel at home in his new life. But John has made an enemy of William Paget, and the older man will stop at nothing to see his rival’s business founder. When the bank from which John has borrowed money collapses, he is forced to risk everything he owns and loves on one final, epic gamble.
One Man's Empire is a bracing piece of storytelling, a suspenseful and action-packed adventure and a gripping tale of one man's coming-of-age during the heyday of the British Empire.
An extraordinary story of treachery, tenacity and tea.
When the late Edward Butler’s Will informs his spoiled heir that his sole inheritance is a sprawling coffee plantation in distant Ceylon, young John Butler resentfully decides to travel there from his home in Manchester to sign the deeds – and sell the estate as soon as possible (in order to repay his vast gambling debts).
But his plans soon go awry. Taunted by brutal plantation-owner William Paget, John rashly determines to make a go of it. Soon after his arrival in sweltering Ceylon, a storm ravages the estate and destroys what remains of his already blighted coffee-crop. John is about to give up for good and go home when he discovers among the ruined trees a sturdy crop of tea-bushes.
Soon, Butler’s tea plantation is thriving, he has fallen in love and he is starting to feel at home in his new life. But John has made an enemy of William Paget, and the older man will stop at nothing to see his rival’s business founder. When the bank from which John has borrowed money collapses, he is forced to risk everything he owns and loves on one final, epic gamble.
One Man's Empire is a bracing piece of storytelling, a suspenseful and action-packed adventure and a gripping tale of one man's coming-of-age during the heyday of the British Empire.
Thursday, 6 March 2008
World Book Day results
Well, it's World Book Day today and the organisers of Spread the Word have announced the winner of the Search for Hidden Talent: Jonathan Trigell, author of Boy A. Congratulations, Jonathan.
Thanks to everyone who voted for me, especially my fellow MNW authors. It was a privilege to be on the shortlist.
Thanks to everyone who voted for me, especially my fellow MNW authors. It was a privilege to be on the shortlist.
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