Aye so, had a good chat with Ali Braidwood over at his Scots Whay Hae blog. We went to the pub and recorded ourselves talking shite. Then we killed some dogs and went home.
Read all about it and, more importantly, listen to our full-throttle blether here. Go on.
I once had a crazy idea to write a book of interconnected short stories all based on Wilco lyrics. Wilco are a fucking amazing band. That book remains unwritten, but I did write a story called ‘Bloodier Than Blood’ for Gutter magazine a while back, so maybe I could get round to it one day.
Here is the song that title is ripped off from, enjoy!
OK, so I recently reviewed the new Jo Nesbo book, Phantom, for The Independent on Sunday. You can read that review here. The basic gist was that the guy can do plot, but some of the line-by-line prose was truly horrible. I noticed that Ian Rankin said something similar on The Review Show at the weekend there. He also, like me, mentioned that the book was basically Jason Bourne in Norwegian cop disguise. Great minds, and all that.
Ian said on the show that the prose thing might be a case of being ‘lost in translation’, which is generous to Nesbo, but a double-edged sword, as I’m sure Don Bartlett, who translated the book into English, doesn’t like the implication that his work was shonky.
Anyway, I then read Karl Ove Knausgaard’s memoir-novel A Death in the Family, reviewing for The Big Issue magazine. Same publisher, same translator from Norwegian to English. And some of the line-by-line prose is simply stunning – beautiful and lyrical yet without losing an ounce of clarity or vision. A really classy piece of writing.
Of course, it’s impossible to really tell without knowing both languages fluently, but my hunch is that Bartlett is probably a very fine translator, and that perhaps in the case of Nesbo, his source material wasn’t, ahem, what it could’ve been. I’m guessing, of course. If that was the case, that must be incredibly frustrating as a translator.
Aye so, this is just an observation, really. Any thoughts, throw them at me. Go on.
I’m off to learn Norwegian.
Soooooooo. Been meaning to post this since I saw it last week. Apparently, human remains were recently found on Salisbury Crags in Edinburgh. This shows, ahem, a great deal of similarities to a certain crucial plot point in Hit & Run. If it helps any, I swear I was washing my hair that night.
This is an example of that weird serendipity that happens when writing fiction. After Tombstoning came out, I remember, they found evidence of a guy living in the caves of Arbroath cliffs. Similarly, the first ever murder on Islay occurred about the time Smokeheads came out.
Maybe I need to write that I win the lottery in the next book. That would do. In actual fact, the novel I’ve just finished contained two graphic depictions of burglaries. My own house was burgled three weeks ago, after I’d written the scenes. Ho hum.
So yeah, more on these ‘human’ remains when I hear. If it turns out to be Edinburgh biggest crime lord, I am gonna fucking freak.
OK, so I’m all over the place. In the media, that is. Kind of. Not really. But a few features and Q&As have popped up recently, here’s a wee list:
A big interview in The Scotsman at the weekend, in which I mention Helen FitzGerald and Deliverance in the same sentence, and slag off my first two books. Oops.
A fun Q&A over at Allan Guthrie’s Criminal-E blog, in which I big up Boards of Canada and talk about ‘gliding through the fucking Matrix’, which is a line ripped off of Charlie Brooker. Sorry, Charlie!
Another cracking Q&A at Tony Black’s Pulp Pusher blog, where I rave about modern hillbilly noir and declare that I don’t like Alasdair Gray’s Lanark. Boof!
And last but not least, a small but lovingly formed piece by me over on Eva Dolan’s excellent Loitering With Intent blog, as part of her series on Criminal Classics. I picked Stevenson’s Jekyll & Hyde.
As well as these, there was a feature in The Courier a few days ago which I haven’t seen yet, and apparently an appearance in The Sunday Times Home section talking about my childhood home, of all the weird and uninteresting things.
Dear The Spirit of Mark Linkous,
I am truly sorry for my inadequate cover version of your song yesterday evening. Especially the whistling.
Here’s what it should’ve sounded like.
OK, so two days till publication, and there have been a handful of reviews of Hit & Run popping up around the place. Sorry for not getting these up here sooner, but as you can imagine, things are a bit BUSY, all right?
First, there’s a very nice review from journalist Paul Cockburn on his site in which he claims I’m ‘an author approaching his prime’! My prime! Jean Brodie would be proud.
Interestingly, there’s a slightly edited version of this review on the Scottish Review of Books site in which that glorious moneyshot ending has been excised. Does that mean my prime is over? Does it, Paul? Shit, that wasn’t much of a prime.
Over on his Manic Pop Thrills blog, Mike Melville is keen to set up The Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters. Don’t sign me up, Mike, I love throwing shit at those guys. Great review, though.
And Alistair Braidwood wins the prize for the best review headline over on Scots Whay Hae. ‘Pills, Thrills & Faulty Brakes’, indeed. Very smart. Although technically incorrect, the brakes weren’t faulty.
And not wanting to be left out again, here comes Smokeheads with a cheeky wee review over at The Book is on the Table, which ends with ‘Nice book, read it!’. Who am I to argue?
More soon, munchkins!
Aye so, I wrote something over on the Faber blog The Thought Fox about how short books are better than long books. I stand by that, of course, but needless to say, for the purposes of getting the rise out of folk, I was slightly ‘coming the cunt’ as Begbie might put it. This was pointed out to me by some author friends who write longer books. Bless ’em.
In the interests of balance and fair play (neither of which really have any place on the internet, of course, but still), here are some fantastic long novels from the last few years (with page counts):
Nick Harkaway, The Gone Away World (532)
Jane Harris, Gillespie & I (605)
Brady Udall, The Lonely Polygamist (602)
Christos Tsiolkas, The Slap (483)
Glen David Gold, Carter Beats the Devil (560)
James Ellroy, The Cold Six Thousand (711)
How about them apples?
Dxxx
OK, so it’s Friday tune time. Bjork. She’s crazy, she’s brilliant, y’all know that.
Anyway, whenever I hear anyone bleating on that Scotland couldn’t manage as an independent country, I just wanna sit em down and make em watch this:
For sure, the lyrics wouldn’t stand close scrutiny as a policy document, but lookit, you just don’t fuck with Bjork. This performance from her and her band is off the scale of exciting.
OK, we all know there are too many books in the world. Sadly, I am adding to the glut.
My new novel, Hit & Run, is coming out. Please come and help me launch it into the world.
Blackwell’s
South Bridge
Edinburgh
6.30pm, Thursday 15th March.
It’s ticketed, but tickets are FREE.
There will be a short reading, some banter, a few thank-yous, some free wine, good vibes, and maybe a couple of tunes. Then we can all go to The Holyrood round the corner afterwards for a proper drink.
Who’s in?
If you’re swithering, thinking maybe this isn’t the book for you, ask yourself this: Do you like books about car crashes? And psychological collapse? And emergency decompressive craniotomies? If you answered yes to any of those, then this COULD be the book for you after all.
Feel free to spread the word, the more the merrier, folks!
Tickets are available from the front desk at Blackwell’s. Please contact Ann Landmann on 0131 622 8222 or events.edinburgh@blackwell.co.uk
Doug Johnstone 