May Contain Nuts

What a palava!

2012-01-26T18:45:00.001Z

No, it's not, its Hue and Cry (see what I did there?) and its a New Orleans/ Scottish blues/ funk hybrid.

Lovin' it.

World Book Night 2012

2012-01-23T16:28:00.001Z

World Book Night 2012 will soon be upon us and if you want to be a “Giver” you need to rush your sweet ass over to their WEBSITE and register.

The choice you will be presented with this year is quite interesting. And I don’t mean “interesting” in that bland, non-committal way that the word can often be used. I mean, interesting.

They range from the popular to the classic as they attempt to meet every taste.

We have (among others) Jane Austen, Martina Cole, Roald Dahl, Stephen King, Cormac McCarthy and Marcus Zuzak. (An actual A - Z list!) And the genres seem well represented, ranging from crime to horror to fantasy to classic and modern general literature.

All of the books chosen (and you’ll just have to take my word on this, cos I haven’t done the research) will have been a commercial success. And where I’m sure the writers (the living, breathing ones) will enjoy the attention, it would have been nice to see some less well-known writers and books getting a mention.

Any glaring omissions? Who would you like to have seen included and why?

At the Movies ...chez moi.

2012-01-15T11:37:00.000Z

Last night I wanted to watch a movie with The Wee Fella (TWF) so I sent a query out on Facebook and Twitter (I am SO of the moment, am I not) asking for suggestions. Plenty came back, but I had watched all of ‘em. (I should have just scrolled through Ricky’s blog – link on the right - to see what took my fancy).

Anywho, we ventured off to Blockbuster without any clue really. We’d seen all of the recent releases that we wanted to so we moseyed over to the 99p section - more out of hope than expectation, to chance our luck.

TWF happens to have pretty good taste in movies. He likes ‘em “action-y” or funny, or scary and well-acted with good production values. They have to hang together well – meaning the character’s actions have to be consistent with what we know about the character AND he can also smell when he’s being patronised from 100 paces. Which caused all kinds of problems when we were taking him to sports lessons. “That guy (the golf pro) said I was really good. What a liar. I barely hit a ball. I was crap.”

We took out two. What the hell. Am I good to him or what.

Outpost - the cover made it look like it was about zombie/ghost Nazis and TWF thought it looked like “it was going to be so bad it would be good”. Surprise, it was actually decent. Not brilliant, but it totally held our interest for 86 minutes, in places was satisfyingly gory for a teen (I meant to say earlier that gore is good) and TWF gave it 7.5 out of 10.

Legacy: Black Ops - with Idris Elba from The Wire (most actors have their age written beside their name in articles. For Idris this is replaced with “The Wire”.) The cover – and the title – give the impression that this is an action-fest. And if that’s all you were looking for then you’d be greatly disappointed. This movie was much, much more. And in a good way.

Elba is hiding out in a shabby hotel room after surviving the months of torture that followed a failed mission in Eastern Europe. He is torn between retribution and personal salvation as he his conscience attacks him and he ponders the ascent of his brother, an ambitious senator with designs on the presidency, who appears to be no saint himself.

If Idris Elba had given this performance in a mainstream movie it would surely have earned him an Oscar nomination. He was intense, utterly convincing and fully committed to the role. One of the best acting jobs I’ve seen for a loooooong time. You knew this man had committed some awful deeds, but despite this, Elba’s haunted and scarred figure engaged your sympathies and pulled you onside.

It’s quite possible that this movie didn’t get the plaudits it deserved because it hinted at an all out action-er and then became a tight psychological thriller, basically set in one room. While I was getting used to what the movie was REALLY about I felt the pace lag, but when the penny dropped and I was caught up in Elba’s performance, I was locked in and engrossed.

The last word, as usual goes to the Wee Fella. “That guy from The Wire was AWESOME and I never give a movie ten out of ten, but I’m giving that a ten.”

So there ya go.

An interview with ...

2012-01-13T17:22:00.001Z

...ME!

(Frankly, it's all about me.)

Go to The Inspiration Forum and read a little more about "Blood Tears".

Aiight

M

May Actually Contain Nuts.

2012-01-11T23:00:00.001Z

David Cameron, Prime Minister was let out in public today; and was yet again on record bumping his gums about things he is under-qualified to talk about. The British movie industry was receiving his attention and our Dave opined that we should be making more “mainstream” movies.

I have some questions, your bumptiousness.

What does that even mean? “Mainstream”.

Let’s say it means commercially successful. Movies that make money, yes? Which begs the question - does he think movie-makers go out of their way to make nae money?

Or does he want UK film-makers to go all Hollywood? Big names, big budgets, special effects and a storyline Arnie could drive a truck through? Where’s the money for that going to come from?

Here’s the thing, dear David, nobody knows which films are going to make money. (Stuttering Royalty or inept suicide bombers anyone?) And here’s another thing – didn’t you abolish the UK Film Council?

Cynical me ties the timing of this comment in with the release of The Iron Lady. Is DC imagining a time when film-makers are making a biopic of his life and keen to make sure they are in a position to take full advantage of his “legend”.

Gawdhelpus.

Another thing that caught my eye recently – something for the brain-cell impaired - a warning sign on a jar of peanut butter that read “May Contain Nuts”.

And another thing that caught my eye...

I had occasion to be in a hotel. Away on business, dontcha know. (Jeez, do I live the highlife or wot?)My well-appointed room had all the usual stuff including an (empty) mini bar and a safe, which was nicely tucked out of the way. Wandering about the room, scoping the facilities – as you do – I opened the wee door of the safe. On the inside was a warning that read, Danger of Suffocation.

Seriously.

The frontage of the safe was rectangular. About five inches high and about eight inches wide. Picture me with the daft expression on my face and thinking WTF.

I had to try it out. I twisted my neck and lined my face up to the opening. I pressed against it. Nope. I could still breathe. Quite well as it happens. But I had my full weight on my feet. What if I was unsupported?

So I lined up a coffee table, stool and dresser – not an easy task as they were all different heights - lay on top and moved to press my face against the mouth of the opened safe. Before I moved in, I had a moment of panic. What if this worked? What if I did actually suffocate? What would they tell my family? Would they put it down to some strange auto-erotica thingy?

My trousers were safely zipped and belted, so no danger there. I hopped off my perch to check, just in case. Aye. We were decent. I put my shoes and socks back on as well. (There are some devious fuckers out there – who knows how their minds work.)

So. Safety factors all accounted for, I lay across the table, stool and dresser. Lined my face against the safe opening and pressed against it. Sadly, I noted that breathing remained an achievable goal.

But people don’t put these signs up for nothing, people.

What if I wrapped a scarf around my head before applying to the safe? A quick mental inventory and I spotted the flaw. I had no scarves on my person. But I did have a spare shirt.

I wrapped this round my head and moved back into position. It was a more comfortable way to be possibly suffocated, what with the cushioning against the metal of the safe, I thought, as I waited for my breath to fail.

Nothing dangerous happened. No auto-erotic thingy. No danger of suffocation. My pesky lungs kept on filling themselves to spite me. Bastards.

(Do I, or do I not put myself through the mill for you, dear reader?)

Realising the sign was a dud I re-arranged my room and slung off my shoes and socks. I could feel a letter to the government forming in my head. Maybe we should get David Cameron to talk to the public about the dangers of misleading signage?

What do you think?

Getting to The End

2012-01-07T13:59:00.001Z

I haven’t been one for doling out the writing advice on this blog, not least for the reason there are lots of people out there much better at than me.

However, there’s one thing I’ve been asked a lot recently and I thought it might be fun to get a wee discussion going.

Lots of people start writing a novel. Lots of people don’t get very far writing a novel. (Some cruel people might argue that too many people do, but that’s for another blog.)

The people that struggle to finish might ask, how do you maintain the effort required to get to those two little words: The End?

But if it’s something that you have done for years now and it’s something that you just do, you often don’t know how to answer. Although “Blood Tears” will be my first published novel, it was the 3^rd to be written – and I have now written a further 3, so experience tells me I can go all the way.

I compare this to when I go swimming. As a part of my (off and on) fitness regime I swim a mile once or twice a week. The first 20 lengths of the pool are the WORST. I’m all heavy-limbs and aching joints and an internal moan that goes – whyareyoudoingthisthisissfeckingawfulstopnow. Then because experience tells me I can go the distance, I get past the hump, get into my rhythm and before you know it the last touch down is looming.

When writing a novel, there is always a hump. I’m a pantser – I’ve set the characters in place, the story is unravelling and I hit a wall. “Where the feck am I going to go now?” plays on a loop in my head.

What do I do?

I keep on writing.

Experience tells me I am capable of finishing and it also allows me to trust that my sub-conscious (or as Stephen King calls it – the boys on the boiler room) is working on a solution. I keep at it. I keep showing up at the coal-face and then, one day, it all falls into place like a grand, DAH-DAH! (I swear the sun always comes out and the birds set up an orchestral movement right at this very moment.)

So how does that help the first-timer, you ask while wagging a finger at your screen?

Don’t know, he smiles wickedly.

What I will say is that if you are serious about writing you will need to develop a mindset of persistence. Get your arse on the chair – your fingers on the keys – and get on a programme of writing activity, because this work of art/ bestseller/ piece of crap/ work of genius/ wouldn’t wipe my backside with this nonsense – and yes, that’s how my brain considers each of my novels during the writing process - isn’t going to write itself.

And if you get to The Hump and you trust in your characters, the world you’re creating and your story, keep coming back to them because they hold all the answers.

Do you remember the first time? (Writing a book, silly.) How did you keep at it?

Start your year off with a smile ...

2012-01-02T13:42:00.001Z

Fun. Remember that? I'm done with the miserablism of 2011. How about you?

Blood Tears The Cover

2011-12-31T20:02:00.000Z

Hi peeps,

Just thought I would end my bloggy year by posting the cover of my debut crime novel "Blood Tears".

It's getting real now, folks !!!!!!

More info to follow.

In the meantime, I wish you everything in 2012 that you wish for yourself.

Michael

My Favourite "Crime" Reads of 2011

2011-12-27T20:58:00.000Z

In no particular order, here are some my outstanding reads of the year. Well, everybody else is doing it ...

Megan Abbott – The End of Everything

Just WHO can you trust? Friends, family? Can you even trust yourself?

This is a book about sisters, fathers and daughters, family and friendships, truths dripping reluctantly from the owner, but more than that, it’s a book about two young girls on the verge of discovering the confusing and heady power of their gender. It’s “noir” fiction, but not as we know it.

R J Ellory – Bad Signs

Two brothers on a road trip to hell. A fascinating take on the nature/ nurture debate from one of my favourites, and one of the most consistently excellent writers in the field today.

Maybe I’m becoming a wimp as I grow older, but there were several times during the race to the end of this book that the tension became too much for me and I had to set it aside for a few minutes. Now, that is good writing!

Tony Black – Truth Lies Bleeding

Our Tone gives Gus Drury a well-deserved rest and turns his eagle-eye on the police procedural.

In my Crimesquad review in April I said, “Another area where Tony Black excels is in his depictions of those living on the edge of the law. There is no soft edge to these people. Every flaw is stripped of shadow and every bad deed gets punished. Truth Lies Bleeding is fast, sharp and brilliantly plotted. It’s only just turned spring but if I read a better example of the police procedural this year I will be amazed.”

Nothing came across my desk to allow me to review that opinion. ‘Nuff said.

Tom Franklin - Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter

An old crime returns to haunt the town’s loner, allowing us, the reader to examine our judgement of others and ultimately, our own conscience. The writing is delicious, the pace sure and steady and the sense of place offers an atmosphere that is impossible not to be seduced by. There is much to admire about this novel and a whole lot more to love and if there is any justice in the world this will become a huge bestseller.

Sam Hawken – The Dead Women of Juarez

This has to me my favourite debut read of the year. Visceral and haunting. The real-life victims of the crimes that pervade this city are in the background, their tragedy highlighted by the simple but effective ploy of showing the effect that their deaths have had on the people left behind. Time and again we see them draped in black, crushed under the weight of their grief: a much more effective device than a passage of torture. REALLY looking forward to seeing what Sam comes up with next.

Declan Burke – Absolute Zero Cool

Trying to describe this book adequately is like trying to grab a bar of soap in the bath. Just believe me when I say it is frickin’ brilliant. I'm totally in awe of Burke’s ability to craft a sentence and to unleash the bon mot. This a brave book, both in context and content. It has brains, wit and heart and the ending was pitch-perfect. Gave me a wee lump in my throat. This has got cult classic written all over it. Just off now to re-read. It’s that good!

Bill Kirton – The Sparrow Conundrum

Ahh, Bill. The man. In the interests of full disclosure I have to say that Bill is a friend (as are a few others on this list – but I knew Bill before I knew his writing) nonetheless, he has fully earned his place here. Besides, my list: my rules.

The characters that Bill Kirton serves up in award-winning, The Sparrow Conundrum are a continuous delight. My favourites were the sociopathic detective, Lodgedale and the crime boss, Eagle who surely had his head turned by a gang of bullies at a private school. Kirton is a master of the comic. If you like a change from the normal mystery/ thriller fare and you don't take your crime fiction too seriously you owe it to yourself to get a copy of The Sparrow Conundrum.

James Lee Burke – Feast Day of Fools

We’re in the Texan landscape with Hack Holland and we’re hunting a psycho. Which is nice.

Flippancy aside, JLB is one man who deserves that much used word – “awesome” in respect of his work. There is richness to this man’s writing that cannot fail to delight. He specialises in imbuing his characters with certainty of action, even while their motives are conflicted. Burke is the master of an oblique dialogue that in the hands of someone less skilled would serve only to confuse, but with him it never fails to enlighten and engage. Biblical. Epic. Awesome.

Adrian McKinty – Falling Glass

This is an archetypal tale of a man who is sent to find a woman he then falls for. What keeps the story fresh and fascinating is the quick-fire pace, the insight into his characters and the quality of the prose. Adrian McKinty is a fine stylist who says much with a few carefully chosen words and he rounds this off with touches of mythology and whispers of the arcane. A writer who deserves to be more widely read.

Nick Stone – Voodoo Eyes

As a fan of Nick’s work, Voodoo Eyes was a book that was well overdue. This is Nick Stone’s first outing since King of Swords in 2007 and boy was it worth the wait. His private detective, Max Mingus is older, not necessarily wiser but still determined to bring down the bad guy. And they really don’t come much badder than Solomon Boukman. Max is a wonderful literary creation. He is washed thin by personal tragedy, partly because he feels he deserves most of it, but still he keeps on coming. The sympathetic but honest eye that Nick Stone used to chronicle the past of Haiti in his earlier work is now used to good effect on the neighbouring island of Cuba. Stone observes with the skill of a journalist and paints a word picture as effectively as any poet. The sense of place in this piece is so vivid you leave the books pages feeling as if you had just spent a few hours on the island itself.

Amanda Kyle Williams – The Stranger You Seek

Serial killers are (to borrow the cliché) ten-a-penny in crime fiction and it takes something a little bit special to grab and hold my attention. The Stranger You Seek has got “special” in bucketloads. Keye Street is my new favourite character and it’s her voice that takes us through this cracking read. She is spunky, sparky (he feverishly seeks another word beginning with “sp”) and (goes for) sassy. (I didn’t get the “p” in there. So sue me.)

Aspiring writers who are struggling with the concept of “voice” should read this book and they’ll receive the message loud and clear. The author uses this to great effect not only giving the reader everything they would be looking for in such a novel, but with added warmth and wit. And this (despite the tension and body count) makes The Stranger You Seek such a joy to read.

Can’t wait to see what 2012 has in store!

Laters,

Merry Xmas ... (and tartan underpants)

2011-12-24T12:49:00.000Z

... to my three regulars. You're persistence in popping by May Contain Nuts in the face of my paltry and pathetic efforts these days is truly inspiring. (Wondering where I could possible stick more "p"s in this sentence.)

By way of thanks, I'm going to be as lazy as I've been for most of the last year and replay a blog I posted a long time ago, but dinnae worry, it's a goodie.

Remember the Tartan Underpants?

Some of you may already know that as a lad I was a dervish in a kilt, a demon at the sword dance, yes people, I was a Highland Dancer.

I can’t remember the age I was when I started (4, 5 or 6) but I stopped as soon as I grew out of my tartan underpants. Twenty one. No, I’m joking, I was around about 11 years, 3 months and 2 days. But who was counting?

Blame the nuns. They thought it was character forming. There was one issue that the nuns didn’t foresee when they took steps to mould the future me. The wee fella Malone had the knack. He was doing well with the highland dancing and being asked to perform at Burns Suppers, St Andrew’s Nights and Christmas parties for geriatrics around the country (well, North Ayrshire).

The problem? Tradition was a big thing in all of this. I danced with real swords, to a real bagpipe player while wearing a real kilt. How far could the nuns allow me to take tradition? Many non-Scots reading this will surely be fascinated to know that “a real Scotsman” wearing a kilt does so without underwear. Yes, we were going commando long before anyone else. (Apparently this was a military thing and men in Scottish regiments were banned from wearing kilts. To ensure this rule was not broken Sergeant Majors were known to fix a mirror to the end of a golf club and walk along the line scanning for visible danglies )

Could the nuns afford to make this eight/ nine/ ten year old lad a true Scotsman? If there was a mishap, male specific body parts (MSBP) would be on show. What if the lad slipped? Group shudder. What if when he slipped his kilt ended up over his head, Holy Mary, Mudder of Jaysus?!

This was a major concern. The sight of, the thought of, the mention of MSBP was enough to bring on group hysteria, much gripping of rosary beads and rapid and repeated signs of the cross. They could not, would not allow private parts to be on display. The world could not, would not face such an evil and depraved display, Jaysus, Mary and Joseph.

A compromise was found. I was to be made a pair of underpants from the same tartan as my kilt. This meant that if I kicked too high the MSBP would not be displayed. They would in fact be invisible. All the audience would be faced with was a pair of disembodied legs.

Said knickers were made. Not only were they the same tartan – they were of the same rough, heavy woollen material. However, before you all wince, they were lined. So not only would tradition be maintained (sort of) and dignity preserved (praise be to God), there would be efforts made to keep chafing to a minimum (awww, bless).

From a distance of time I can smile, rub the scars (yes, there was chafing. I remember tucking my shirt into the pants around my thighs) and wonder if the “seamstress” was told that these knickers were for a boy. There were tight, flat and there was absolutely no room for MSBP. Thankfully these parts were pre-pubescent and yet to reach their...ehm... full potential (TMI?) but "stuffing" was nevertheless still required.

I’m betting the maker of the tartan undies went on to bigger and better things. Didn’t you ever wonder where Drag Queens stick their man-stuff? Under the sequin and lace panties, I'm willing to bet you they’re wearing a pair of tartan underpants.

I'd like to adapt an old Scots greeting and offer you this - Lang may your lum reek and your danglies dangle.

Here's to a Merry (and inclusive) Christmas (ooo, controversial) to each and every one of you!

Laters,

James Lee Burke - FDOF

2011-12-22T18:55:00.001Z

I'm coming over all fanboy on the subject of the above book at CRIMESQUAD

Here's a wee taster ...

"There is richness to this man’s writing that cannot fail to delight. He specialises in imbuing his characters with certainty of action, even while their motives are conflicted - and he is the master of an oblique dialogue that in the hands of someone less skilled would serve only to confuse, but with Burke it never fails to enlighten and engage."

Eeesh, sounds like I almost know what I'm talking about. For the full bhoona go click on the above link. You know you want to.

Xmas in NZ

2011-12-17T11:07:00.000Z

If you don't crack a smile at this, you should visit a hospital quicksmart and ask them to split open your ribs to see if their's a heart in your chest cavity -

CLICK HERE

Some Friday Fun

2011-12-16T20:36:00.001Z

I love the expression on this guy's face ...

He's so absurdly pleased with himself.

born under a bad sign ...

2011-12-11T18:28:00.001Z

I recently reviewed Bad Signs by R J Ellory over at CRIMESQUAD

Here's how it went.

The blurb -

Orphaned by an act of senseless violence that took their mother from them, half-brothers Clarence Luckman and Elliott Danziger have been raised in state institutions, unaware of any world outside.

Their lives take a sudden turn when they are seized as hostages by a convicted killer en route to death row. Earl Sheridan is a psychopath of the worst kind, but he has the potential to change the boys' lives forever.

As the trio set off on a frenetic escape from the law through California and Texas, the two brothers must come to terms with the ever-growing tide of violence that follows in their wake - something that forces them to make a choice about their lives, and their relationship to one another.

What did I make of it?

Bad Signs is a road trip novel that sweeps you up and haunts you long after you have finished the book and set it aside. As with all of Ellory’s oeuvre, we are treated to an experience that is rich with detail and heightened with emotion. In fact, so convincing is his sense of time and place that you feel you are holding a chunk of 60’s Americana in your hand.

The two brothers are an examination of our best and worst impulses. Why do we act the way we do? Nature or nurture? Are some people really born under a bad sign, or are those who give in to their darkest inclinations forced to do so by circumstance?

The boys share different fathers, but the same mother. One brother maintains his innocence despite all of the external and internal pressures, while the other travels down a path that has only two destinations at the end: a chair wired to the national grid or a bullet.

Here, in this brother’s gradual deterioration, R J Ellory displays his skill as a writer. We experience the boy’s influences, his neurosis and his insecurities and we are there as fully engaged observers while he takes his first tentative step into violence and his shaking, puking, terrified delight. From there, he simply can’t turn back.

The other brother’s journey is equally compelling and the writer racks up the tension by the simple but hugely effective expedient of introducing a mix-up of identities. The “good” brother becomes the guileless prey hunted by every law-enforcement agency in the country, while his brother glee-fully goes on the hunt and punishes every imagined slight in increasingly violent ways. Will the truth become known before a “shoot to kill” order is carried out?

Will your fingernails ever grow back?

Maybe I’m becoming a wimp as I grow older, but there were several times during the race to the end that the tension became too much for me and I had to set the book aside for a few minutes. Now, that is good writing.

This is a stellar work of fiction that deserves to be on everyone’s reading list. Loved it. 5/5

Mikey Goes on a Rant and Gets Salty With The Language.

2011-12-01T20:47:00.001Z

It has now been a year since I bought my Kindle, so I thought I would take stock of my reading experience with it thus far.

I have downloaded 33 books. Which is not too shabby. How many have I read? Any guesses?

Yup, you up the back, that wasn’t a typo. 3.

There are about 4 or 5 others that I have read too halfway, some I looked at briefly and some that have never been opened.

How does that compare with the hard copies of books I’ve bought, borrowed from my local library and books I’ve been given to review? I haven’t noted the empirical data – so sue me – but I would guesstimate that I read anything from 1 to 3 books per week. So, a light approximate would be that in the time I have read 3 e-books, I’ve read anything from 100 - 200 paper books.

It’s not that the books on my Kindle are crap. They’re not.

I’m thinking that there are two things at play here.

#thing 1 – see me, I love the feel of a paper book.

#thing 2 – when I’ve paid anything from £3 to 0.99p for an e-book I feel less inclined to follow up my purchase. There is little perceived value there so I don’t bother reading it once the initial impulse has flown. (So how does that tie up with the fact that you get a lot of free paper books, bozo?)

#thing 3 – so, there’s more than 2 things, quit moaning – ahem, thing 3 – It mostly doesn’t even occur to me to look out my Kindle and read from it. I forget where I’ve put it most of the time.

Is it just me? We’re all reading e-books aren’t we? Am I so out of step with the rest of the reading world?

Bloggers and journalists out there often use the changes in the music industry to highlight the eventual death of the book. The techies among them doing it with a certain degree of glee, it has to be said. It has been reported so often that the download has killed off the CD that it has almost become fact. And repeated till Pinocchio’s beak circumvents the globe. So I thought I would check it out.

I read some research carried out by the UK music industry – not sure what the situation is in the US – but here are the figures for 2010...

Sales of digital single tracks represented 98.0% of overall singles sales, with CD singles only accounting for 1.9m sales (down on last year’s total of 2.5m).

So that seems to bear out what “everyone” is saying, right? But is that the whole picture? Nope.

98.5 million CD albums were sold against a figure of 21 million digital albums.

So, it seems for a single track we’re loving a download, but for an album the CD still rules the roost.

Side-bar, your honour - Interestingly, this allows me to draw a correlation between novels and short stories. It seems that the e-book is allowing the short story to flourish. After all, the e-reader is the perfect tool to read a short story on the to-and-from from work etc.

The one movement in the music industry that worries me is the overall downward trend of sales caused by the illegal download. Let’s hope the book peeps get to keep control of that particular nastiness. It has been calculated that the total number of people in the UK illegally downloading music on a regular basis is 7.7m. It is likely to be even larger given other methods by which music can be illegally obtained, such as e-mail, instant messaging and newsgroups.

That’s a concern, innit? If it happened to that degree in the book world it would be nothing short of disastrous.

And what is it about people who think that its fair game to obtain creative content for free? They wouldn’t dream of popping into Tesco and knicking a CD/ book/ movie or fresh fruit and veg off the shelves, so why is it ok to steal digital content?

Oh, don’t get me started. On one blog I visited the other day; where they were debating the price and therefore the perceived value of ebooks, one numpty came on to leave a message saying, why pay when you can get it for free?

Because someone has spilt their life blood on to the page, they’ve studied their craft, they’ve put in hour upon hour upon hour, day after month after year to try and entertain you, you asshole. That’s why. Music, literature, the arts – it all enriches our lives - this stuff doesn’t and shouldn’t come free – or the well will eventually run dry. And what a horrible world that would be.

Eeesh, I’m going to have to go and lie down or have a camomile tea or SOMETHIN’.

Fuckin’ free.

Fuckin’ A-hole.

R J Ellory gettin' down!

2011-11-28T23:06:00.001Z

The End of Everything by Megan Abbott

2011-11-24T17:33:00.001Z

You may have already read my review of the above book over at www.crimesquad.com but it's worth repeating for all you lovely peeps here at May Contain Nuts.

This is - despite the cover - what were they thinking!?! - one of my favourite reads of the year so far and I suspect will make it in to the top 10 of most reviewers faves for 2011. If it doesn't, I'll eat my hair.

Anyway, what's the script? The blurby bit say this ...

"Lizzie and Evie are inseparable. They walk home from school together, have sleepovers at each other’s houses, even tease boys together. Most importantly, they have no secrets from each other.

Or at least, that’s what Lizzie thinks – until Evie goes missing and suddenly Lizzie is questioning everything she ever thought about her best friend."

Michael says this ...

There are books you rip through. There are books you savour by the page and run your hand lightly across the cover with wonder each time you set it aside, safely, for the next time. Megan Abbott has conjured up one of the latter.

The experiences of a teenage girl are far removed from those of a man approaching (cough) middle-age. Therefore I initially questioned my ability to engage and empathise with a novel narrated from the viewpoint of such a child, but thankfully I quickly set aside any misconceptions I might have had. From the first page; the first sentence, Abbott had me.

The End of Everything is a book about sisters, fathers and daughters, family and friendships, truths dripping reluctantly from the owner, but more than that, it’s a book about two young girls on the verge of discovering the confusing and heady power of their gender.

Megan Abbott has done something few of us can dream of. She’s taken everything we know about noir fiction and re-framed it in a world almost alien to the genre. She has imbued it with a command and grace that compels while meeting our expectation of entering the dark and forbidding places of the human psyche.

Each character is drawn with care and given breath with just a few well-chosen words and the prose has a dream-like, captivating quality you can’t fail to fall in love with.

This is quite frankly, wonderful stuff and I am in awe of this writer’s skill. A modern classic. Go buy it. Like, now.

Absolute Zero Cool... and the winner is...

2011-11-22T17:33:00.001Z

... dah, dah, DAAAAAAH! (that's them thar trumpets, people.)

Gill Stewart, come on down. Or, send me an email with your postal address so I can send you the signed copy of Declan Burke's piece of literary class.

(You have my email address?)

For the rest of you, abject apologies. And you really should go HERE and HERE to see what you've missed.

Michael

Absolute Zero Cool - Win a Copy!

2011-11-15T10:08:00.001Z

The time has now run out to vote for Declan Burke’s (simply wonderful) Absolute Zero Cool in the Irish Book Awards.

This is a novel of extraordinary skill that is eliciting nothing but praise from the great and the good in literature.

Ken Bruen has this to say – “ AZC is unlike anything else you’ll read this year ... laugh-out-loud funny ...this is writing at its dazzling, cleverest zenith. Think John Fowles, via Paul Auster and Rolling Stone ... a feat of extraordinary alchemy.”

And the good news for you lucky readers of May Contain Nuts is that I have a free, signed copy to give

away.

How do you win this much sought after item? Just leave a message and tell me your favourite read of the year and why.

Laters,

A Pittance of Time

2011-11-14T21:35:00.001Z

Many thanks to my buddy, Rab (aka Numptyheid) who alerted me to this video/ song following my mini-rantette about intolerance the other day.

HERE's a link to a website that gives you more detail.

Enjoy.

Pause to remember ...

2011-11-11T09:05:00.001Z

Disappearing With a Tie

He puts a tie on to read his papers.

Checks the knot in his hall mirror and then

does his National Service quick-march

down to the library where he leans over the broadsheet,

elbows of his jacket secured with extra padding.

It’s warmer here in the bucket seats, he might say

should you ask. And there’s company of a sort,

although everyone obeys the rule and no one speaks.

A nod to the familiar is sufficient. And maybe

a twitch of a smile on a good day.

I don’t know, he might say

should you ask what he’s looking for.

But finds himself pulled to the casualties.

The role-call of young lives severed

in the war of I am More Right Than You Are.

I know this, he might say should you ask,

the past is locked into the present,

holding the future to ransom

and the weapons may change

but the blood

slick on a different patch of earth,

stains just the same.

Michael Malone

What price tolerance?

2011-11-10T11:40:00.001Z

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

(John McCrae)

Here in the UK and many other parts of the world, mid-November becomes a time to remember our war-dead by pinning a poppy on to our clothing. (Apparently the British Legion send 3 million of them around the globe and sell upwards of 45 million in the UK, earning the charity around £40M)

The poppy has become a powerful symbol of remembrance and a hopeful prayer for peace. And you know what - it ticks me off when I hear people complaining that some people don’t wear one, or that they don’t wear it for enough days, or that they wear it too early, or that the one that is sold isn’t botanically correct, or even that the angle of the leaf should be worn at a different angle.

We even have a newsreader, John Snow who objected to, what he called “poppy fascism” and reserved the right to wear his poppy only on Remembrance Day – and caused a stushie (this is a crackin’ Scots word meaning a fuss) throughout the country.

And so a symbol of peace and hope becomes an article that people bitch and complain about. What happened to tolerance? I know it’s a matter of degree, but it’s this very type of human behaviour – I’m right and you’re fuckin’ wrong – that causes strife in the first place.

We’re all different, we all hold different views and we all have a human right to continue to do so. Those who want to come together in this way and show a strength of community and purpose – go in peace. And hope. Those who want to remember in their own way, or even not at all – go in peace. And hope.

As the Dalai Lama said, “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.”

Enough of the bickering.

Right, that’s me off my soapbox.

Laters

Blasted Heath

2011-11-05T11:33:00.000Z

Innovations continue apace in the world of publishing. One of the most interesting I’ve come across recently is down to the first Scottish e-publisher: BLASTED HEATH.

This is the creation of uber agent, crime writer and good guy, Allan Guthrie with his mucker, social media expert (whatever that is) Kyle McRae. They have launched with five titles – including Dead Money by Ray Banks, and The Man in the Seventh Row, a debut novel by Edinburgh journalist Brian Pendreigh.

So far, so commendable – and this is where it gets interesting.

Blasted Heath have come up with a boxed set of all five books in three file formats on a branded USB stick in a gift presentation pack. The whole thing is about the size of a tobacco tin and comes complete with fold-out cards describing the accompanying books. Genius or what? I hope this can be patented cos I see this being copied big time.

The USB stick costs £12.99, and at the moment (as far as I can see) it is only available on mail order from their website, www.blastedheath.com, but there’s been interest from independent bookshops. There are discounts on the website this weekend. See what you can pick up as taster.

You can thank me later.

Vote for Absolute Zero Cool by Declan Burke

2011-11-01T09:24:00.003Z

Friend of this blog, all-round good guy and fantastic author, Declan Burke has his book shortlisted on the 2011 Irish Book Awards.

The blurb?

Absolute Zero Cool is a post-modern take on the crime thriller genre. Adrift in the half-life limbo of an unpublished novel, hospital porter Billy needs to up the stakes. Euthanasia simply isn't shocking anymore; would blowing up his hospital be enough to see Billy published, or be damned? What follows is a gripping tale that subverts the crime genre's grand tradition of liberal sadism, a novel that both excites and disturbs in equal measure. Absolute Zero Cool is not only an example of Irish crime writing at its best; it is an innovative, self-reflexive piece that turns every convention of crime fiction on its head. Declan Burke's latest book is an imaginative story that explores the human mind's ability to both create and destroy, with equally devastating effects.

I had the pleasure of reading this book in draft form and this is a quote from the email I sent to Declan after I read it ...

"I think you have an amazing book here. I'm totally in awe of your ability to craft a sentence. It's a brave book, both in context and content. It has brains, wit and heart and the ending was pitch-perfect. Gave me a wee lump in my throat. This has got cult classic written all over it.

Why "cult"? The aforementioned brains. Sadly - and I'm certain you're aware of this - not everyone is going to get it. And this is the only constructive criticism I can offer. Some people - and this is not my opinion - might see the "brains" part as being self-indulgent - but fuck 'em - I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of it. Made me pause and consider what you were saying. Made me think of my own life in places and as a writer you can't have more power than that. You managed to philosophise without lecturing your reader and your observations were incisive and absolutely on the button.

This deserves plaudits. I sincerely hope you get them."

And by jove, the plaudits arrived by the bucketload. The great and the good of crime fiction are queuing up to praise this book.

You can vote for Declan here

And if you haven't yet read the book, you can get it from all the usual suspects or You can buy the book here.

Laters,

Michael

Wincey on Harry

2011-10-20T13:46:00.003+01:00

Harry Moseley was an 11 year boy with a heart of solid gold. He died recently after fighting a brain tumour. His funeral was today.

Harry became well-known through his charity work after being diagnosed with the tumour in 2007.

Harry, passed away on the 8th October.

During his illness Harry raised funds of more than £500,000, for the charity Cancer Research UK by speaking at events and selling hand-made bracelets.

His Help Harry Help Others campaign gained widespread celebrity admiration from celebs including Dragons' Den tycoon Duncan Bannatyne and England captain John Terry.

To learn more about Harry go to my mate, Wincey's Blog.