Working hard on book 7, entitled Blood money. It should be finished by the end of August as I have one third of it in the bag as I type. For some reason I work doubly hard when the weather is glorious. How odd is that? Then when BM is completed I plan to take my hiney off to the States for some research. I hate leaving my office, so that should be interesting.

Reading The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher at the moment and enjoying it immensely I am very surprised so many people didn’t ‘get’ the book. I thought it was excellent and Kate Summerscale really captured the startling starling-like flights of fancy of the Victorian public.

I am looking forward to speaking with Kate next week at the Abbey, there is an interesting conflation between her book and Val McDermid’s A Darker Domain that I would like to explore. I hope I can do both ladies justice. Until then, may the skies stay blue, may the wind be kind and may my darling daughter ease her way into the leaving cert with all the grace and attention she exhibits towards rock bands.

Currently reading Val McDermid’s book A Darker Domain, and  will then read Kate Summerscale’s Suspicions of Mr Whicher. I will be chairing an evening between these two authors in the Abbey Theatre on June 7th and would like to know what I am talking about for once.

You can take a gander at what the festival is dishing up here,

Tickets are still available I believe.

No seriously, it was a terrific night and Andrew and I had a cracking time. I got to meet up with Brian McGilloway and his lovely wife and a glowing Tana and her charming beau, and of course Alex, the delightful hussy. Big ups to Ciara Considine and Faith and Breda, and congrats to Ronan on his win for best new author.

I also want to say a big thank you to everyone who voted, I really appreciated your support. I will retire to my sofa now, with my slightly ouchy head, and feel glad and proud to have been a part of the event. Hurrah for books.

I have finished book 6. The working name was The Vision, but on reflection I think I might change it to The Outsider, a more fitting title . Oh I’ve got two more weeks of edits and hair pulling, but it’s all there, the bones, some of the skin, hair and make up are next.

This bit, this bit here, the edits, are like that hill at the 8k mark, the race is behind you, but you’ve still got to run that last bit. Oh you’re tired and you’re pink faced but the end is in sight so you think what the hell, you’ll give it everything you’ve got. And you do, and by golly it’s all good.

I came home from my race to find my husband had painted the back wall. We’ve had our garden done, three weeks of carting top soil, hardcore, pebbles, sleepers, sand, rolls of lawn and cement in from the front, by hand, in wheelbarrows. This too is nearly done, the bones are there, hair and make up are next.

I planted a scented Jasmine against the freshly painted back wall. Opus, my aged basset hound, plonked his big backside down beside it and gave it the once over, it seemed he approved.

When the race is nearly run you can really appreciate the little things.

( Ian finished at a blistering 42 something or other seconds, I poodled in almost 20 minutes after. We are going for pint in an hour or so, oh yes, a fine day indeed)

I’m in with some good company, there is also Tana French, Alex Barclay and Brian McGilloway in my category. I have forewarned Brian  -in an act of extreme kindness-   that I plan to poison his food on the night of the award show proper. Not that I think he’s the only one to beat, but he emailed me offering congratulations, so I thought it only fair to give him a heads up. Tana and Alex are just going to have to bring food testers.

I was interviewed yesterday about crime writing and as I rambled on for a few moments about being chuffed to be nominated at all, it occurred to me I wasn’t just waffling. I am really delighted. Especially since there are some glaring omissions from the list, chaps whose books I devour the moment the ink is dry and their copy is the shops.

So hurrah for crime writing. Apart from the poisoning I wish everyone well.

You may vote here.

I will be spending a considerable amount of the first morning of ‘09 following a large contented basset about a frost covered garden, watching while he poos, no doubt wondering aloud how much of the foil he ingested when he helped himself to a box of Cadbury’s Roses might once more see the light of day. So far he - and his cast iron constitution - has me whipped.

So hurray to New year, hurray to elderly yet curiously robust dogs and hurray to you. Let us sally forth into the future, another year of opportunities and bookish entertainment.

Arlene Hunt- pre drinks.

‘Look,’ I’ll say, ‘reviews, just one person’s opinion innit?’ Well I don’t say ‘innit’ because I was brought up in Wicklow and we don’t bandy ‘innits’ about quite so readily.

But it’s all lies of course. Reviews might be just one person’s opinion, but it’s their opinion on your baby, the product of your blood sweat and tears, that piece of you you’ve released into the world for consumption

So upon opening the Weekend Section of the Irish Times and  spotting a familiar title my pants would be flaming if I didn’t admit to uttering a small but audible ‘eek.’

However! My ‘eeks’ were for naught.

“After reading the blurb of Arlene Hunt’s Undertow (Hachette Books, £11.99) I believed I was in for a jolly, Agatha Christie-type thriller. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The writing here is as hard as flint and twice as combustible. It is set in modern-day Dublin and it shows the dark underbelly of the city’s crime. The two protagonists are Sarah Kenny and John Quigley, who run a private detective agency. They are hired by a pregnant young girl to find the father of her child, one Orie Kavlar. Orie is involved in people smuggling, especially Eastern European women who are put working in nightclubs. Finding him opens up an ant’s nest for the two detectives and they are soon up to their armpits in violence and bodies. This is a gritty and action-filled offering that pulls no punches.”

Hard as flint and twice as combustible. Indeed.

‘Hallo?’ I didn’t say, for my husband answered it.

But it was for me.

‘That’s a nice piece about the book in the paper.’ Margaret Daly, head honcho of all things PR said to me.

‘Piece? Paper? Book?’ Oh I’m literally on fire in the mornings. On fire.

But yes, piece, paper and book. Someone in print media finally reviewed Undertow, the Sunday Business Post no less.

And it went something like this…

Crime fiction succeeds in familiar setting
Sunday, November 09, 2008 Reviewed by Emma Kennedy
Undertow By Arlene Hunt. Hatchette Books. €16.20

Those seeking a CSI inspired production are likely to be sorely disappointed by Arlene Hunt’s latest novel.

Glossy, touched-up crime Undertow is not. Instead, it has a gritty sense of reality and cleverly written characters that go far beyond the glamorous detectives and pathologists found in other books of its ilk. Straight away, the sense of place is evident and, unlike so many crime writers, Hunt does not choose the bright lights of a big American city as the canvas for her novel. Instead, her tale plays out in modern-day Dublin, portrayed as a city of immigrants and gang land criminals.

Business partners - who were once a lot more - Sarah and John are private investigators who become involved in what seems like a routine case. Locating Slovakian immigrant Orie Kavlar appears to be a run-of-the-mill investigation, but a number of factors create a more complicated picture for the pair. With a dead body found on wasteland in the Dublin suburbs and a lot of dodgy characters entering the frame, it seems there is more to Kavlar’s disappearance than initially thought.

Throw in a dead ex-boyfriend and Sarah and John find themselves knee-deep in mystery, which places massive strain on an already fragile relationship. Hunt describes her characters as ‘‘valiant voyagers on a sea of human weakness’’ and explains that, while they investigate wrong-doing, they are not exempt from wrongdoing themselves. Her characters jump from one well-drawn Dublin location to the next, encountering a host of characters on the way. A snooty hairdresser who withholds an address, for example, prompts a catty response from Sarah, with Hunt capturing the women’s tones with ease. A meeting with a gangland criminal evokes images of Ireland’s sordid underbelly, which Hunt depicts in nicely unforced prose.

Hunt’s novel is accessible enough to drift in and out of, offering an easy read to those with only a passing interest in crime fiction.

For those who enjoy the thrill and intrigue of an honest-to-goodness whodunnit, meanwhile, this is a must-read.”

You know, that made traipsing about the shops looking for a vacuum cleaner that bit better.

The venue is- The Back Loft, La Catedral Studios, 7-11 St. Augustine Street. From 6-8 pm.

Fancy Dress is preferable.

So if you have some time spare on Friday, do please pop along.