June 16, 15.38pm
Busy, busy week. Work, football, birthdays, commuting.
And it's all emphasised by the arrival of an e-mail (thanks Julian) this afternoon announcing the shortlist for the Theakston's Old Peculier (British) crime novel of the year award and I am shocked to discover I have only read one of the books nominated, Ian Rankin's Fleshmarket Close (it seems a good deal longer than a year ago I read that). In fact, to my shame, Rankin is the only author I've read. So many books, so little time, even with a three hour daily commute.
This also reminds me that the Harrogate Crime Festival is around the corner. My parents have now lived up there for a couple of years, and I haven't been able to go yet. I was particularly disappointed last year as the very lovely Laura Lippman was there.
This year, there is John Harvey in conversation with Ian Rankin, George Pelecanos (who to my mind is going from stength to strength) and PD James. All that and my my washing and ironing done. I don't know how I can stay away.
I have just finished the first Resnick, and have been struck yet again by a writer who manages to write a fantastic detective novel with a complex and fascinating detective who is not a misogynist, a drunk, a psycho or hell bent on pissing off the brass. Instead Resnick is kind, considerate, sensitive and generally plays by the rule book. His love of cats is a bit off-putting, however.
What was particularly impressive about Lonley Hearts, which is an all-round cracking procedural, was the way Harvey ratcheted up the tension in the closing chapters. It was positively heart-stopping at times. So heart-stopping that I can't stand any more for now. I just bought book one of A Dance to the Music of Time to wind the tension down for a day or so.