The Day That Went Missing is a heart-rending story as intensely personal as any tragedy and as universal as loss. It is about how we make sense of what is gone. Most of all, it is an unforgettable act of recovery for a brother.
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The novel Acts of the Assassins is now out in the USA, but it's in disguise as The Apostle Killer. I'm not quite sure why the wonderful Melville House felt the title had to change, but they're the experts in the US market, and unlike 52% of my compatriots I haven't yet lost faith in experts. I think the word 'Killer' might have been persuasive - whatever else Acts might be, it's a killer thriller, a thriller about killers, and I can imagine the subset of readers who like that kind of thing is quite large. Lo and behold, The Wall Street Journal then picked out the title for special mention in their review: 'This is a smart, sly unpredictable
Acts of the Assassins is out in paperback in the UK from early March, and the cover is ... exactly the same. And why not? If it ain't broke don't fix it. I love everything about this cover, from the red and black to the hint of icon, not to mention the funny. Don't think I ever had a cover before that made me laugh. The folk at Vintage have added on some quotes from the reviews and a reminder that the novel was shortlisted for the Goldsmiths Prize. I was incredibly happy to be involved with the most interesting novel prize this country has. I know I would say that, but try Kevin Barry's Beatlebone or Max Porter's Grief
My French editor, a poet who'd slipped into publishing because poetry doesn't pay, was a former colleague from the old Bibliotheque Nationale on the Rue de Richelieu. I worked in the galleries, he was Maps and Stamps, though his true interests were poetry and the spirit of '68. He had in mind a verse epic about Paris and life on the Grands Boulevards, the contemporary everyday bursting with ghosts. He had a greedy eye, and could be distracted by fleeting impressions and chance events, so much so that he often forgot to inject himself with insulin. This meant he was forever scurrying into the toilets of a MacDonalds, a syringe between his teeth. Someone would call the police. When he forgot
On the Open Book programme on Radio 4 (I never know what I'm going to say) I said that too much reverence for biblical stories and any refashioning will be tedious. Too little and the updated version becomes facetious. There are observable symptoms for both. In every over-reverential re-telling of a New Testament story the author cares far too much about what language the characters are speaking. 'I'll have the fish,' said Peter in Aramaic. The facetious disease is just as easy to recognise - Jesus returns to earth in the present day and smokes dope. Of course he does. Updated, Jesus is always a stoner. It's just easier to explain him that way. Luckily there are alternatives. Gospel Noir has antecedents, if not exactly a history.
Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. As well may be, but the name of Cambridge is not to be taken lightly. There's an excellent article here from the Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit in Cambridge that identifies this text as a 2003 internet meme, unrelated to any published research carried out in Cambridge. The Brain Sciences people elegantly set