Sleepy Sunday Summary

Well, it has been a very pleasant weekend which included good friends, good food, a spate of music buying and discovering from the young sales guy in the music store that I still have street cred, and watching a couple of excellent films (Gran Torino and Milk - both of which made me cry, big sap that I am - this tough broad exterior fools only my mother, you know). On the topic of films - has anyone got any good recommendations for my Lovefilm list? Quirky is good. Character is important. Romantic comedies and horror are probably both out, as are vampires and any science fiction where the aliens have computers that have Windows. Funny is good, but not "we went to Las Vegas and this is what happened when we got drunk" type funny. One of my favourite films is LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE, one of Ewan's is BARTON FINK. All suggestions gratefully accepted. Thank you :o)

And now, book news...

Courtesy of the lovely Russel McLean, a couple of events from Waterstones, Dundee. On August 20, Chris Longmuir, author of Dundee Book Award winning Dead Wood (which is a book I definitely need to get my hands on) will be appearing at the Lecture Theatre, University of Dundee. Time 7pm, tickets available from Waterstones in Dundee, priced at £3. And on September 11, Ian Rankin will be appearing at the same place. Tickets will be available from Waterstones, Dundee in the weeks before the event, again for the ultracheap price of £3.

Val McDermid in a stellar line up for the Ilkley Literature Festival.

Alexander McCall Smith says he's no Renaissance Man.

Iain Banks on BBC Radio Scotland on 13th August, at 13.15.

Via Bill Crider, Hard Case Crime news of a new Arthur Conan Doyle story.

Christopher Brookmyre is one of a number of new ambassadors for the Edinburgh festivals, as the Fringe is warned to 'modernise or die'.

I Came, I Saw, I Trampled

First things first - Dad, if you're reading this, for goodness' sake, don't tell Mum. My Mum's first reaction if she hears a prisoner has escaped from jail in Timbuktu is to tell my Dad to lock all the doors, so this story would make her freak out. So, after yesterday's Snakes On A Bus episode I thought today might be a tad more peaceful. (When I told people about this episode, by the way, the reaction of all the females was a variation on the theme of "Ewwwwwwwww"; the reaction of more than one of the males was "What type of snake?" I had to confess that I did not ask it for its family tree.)

But I digress. This morning, hoping for slightly less wildlife in my day, I went to catch my bus, only to discover that the bus shelter was already full. With about 6 police, and a bloke and a woman both looking slightly the worse for wear. So, rather than interrupt this cosy little chat, I stood next to the bus stop, waiting for my bus, while wondering what this guy had done. Maybe he'd dropped some litter? Daubed some badly spelled slogans on a wall? Been drunk in charge of a bus shelter?

Just before my bus arrived, one of the policemen came around the side of the bus shelter, looked at me funny, and bent over to pick something up. I looked down. There, 2 inches away from my feet was a saw (Girls - I know! Ewwwwwwwwwwww. Lads - it was a crosscut handsaw with a steel blade - happy now?) Apparently the guy had tried to cut his girlfriend's head off with the saw while she was sleeping. Luckily, she had woken up before he could get very far, realised that he wasn't holding the saw in order to put up a couple of shelves and had run out of the house, with him chasing her, still wielding the saw. Obviously sensing that this was not your normal DIY episode, a passer-by had called the police, who arrived mob-handed in double quick time, complete with riot gear. Enter your humble narrator to trample all over the evidence.

Anyway, I apologise for all the personal asides in recent posts. I will try to refrain in future but, really, you couldn't make this stuff up.

And now back to Scottish crime fiction.

Karen Campbell has signed a new two book deal with Hodder and Stoughton. This is news I'm very glad to hear as I'm currently reading, and loving, her first book THE TWILIGHT TIME - a police procedural with humour, warmth, and a fair bit of darkness.

An article about football from Christopher Brookmyre, whose latest novel Pandemonium will be launched at the Mitchell Library in Glasgow on Friday August 14th.

Alexander McCall Smith says hands off Scotland's haggis.

Gordon Brown the author, as opposed to the other one.

A review of Denise Mina's STILL MIDNIGHT.

"Sorry hen, it's just ma wee snake."

Anyone who knows me is aware that THINGS HAPPEN on the Number 62 bus. Tonight I was quite late coming home. Buses in Glasgow after about 7pm are a bit of a minefield. This evening there were three young girls who were soaking wet from head to toe sitting near the front of the bus, so I decided that near the back of the bus - usually a place to be avoided at all costs - was the place to be. I dug out my book and lost myself in Karen Campbell's THE TWILIGHT TIME until I felt this tickling on the back of my neck. I shook my head, thinking it was my hair and that stopped it...for a minute or so. And then the tickling started again. 'Hello', I thought, 'your luck's in, Donna.'

I turned round, brushing my hand down the back of my head as I did so, and came face to scaly little face with a huge ginormous snake. I let out what can only be described as a pathetic girly whimper. The scaly little face was attached to a scaly well-fed body, which was coiled around the thick neck of a guy who was busily texting away. He looked up and saw the look on my face. "Aw sorry hen, it's just ma wee snake." Wee snake. It was about 100 feet long and looked as though it could swallow a herd of cows and still have room for a plump redhead.

This is not the first time I've come face to face with wildlife on the bus. I once found myself inches away from the bleary pink eyes and twitching whiskers of a rat. Sitting on the shoulder of a man who also had bleary pink eyes and twitching whiskers.

Anyway, back to your regularly scheduled crime fiction blog.

There are authors, authors everywhere at the moment it seems, so here's some festival news.

Richmond Walking and Book Festival. I would fall over.

Crime writers Allan Guthrie, Stuart MacBride, Ann Cleeves and Tom Morton will be appearing at Shetland's Wordplay Book Festival. Good stuff. And there's an event with forensics expert Helen Pepper that looks fascinating. I attended an event whe was at once before and it was excellent (even if I did have to go for a lie down afterwards).

Val McDermid appears along with Kate Mosse and Jasper Fforde at the Southbank Centre in London on 16th September.

What an intriguing idea - Tony Black answers questions from readers . I'm going to be checking out this site more often. With thanks to the Rap Sheet.

Sex and Crime in the Library. Well, that's MY day sorted.

A 91 year old Scottish woman is the most prolific library book reader in Britain. At 91 she's still reading Mills and Boon. I'm quite relieved to hear that romance is still important at that age. Good on her.

And in other library news, Kate Atkinson's WHEN WILL THERE BE GOOD NEWS is one of the most borrowed library books in York. And three of the top four are crime fiction. Excellent.

The lovely Bill Crider reviews Allan Guthrie's KILLING MUM.

Publishers Weekly talks to Stuart MacBride.

'Robert Downey Jr, who plays Holmes, has revealed the crimebuster will sleep with and have sweaty grappling scenes with Watson, played by Jude Law, in "Sherlock Holmes," due out Christmas Day. "We're two men who happen to be roommates, wrestle a lot and share a bed. It's bad-ass," Downey told Britain's News of the World. Added much-in-the-news Law: "Guy wanted to make this about the relationship between Watson and Holmes. They're both mean and complicated."'

In Which Your Lazy Blogger Enlists Family Members To Do The Work

This is my Dad. My Dad likes thrillers, spy novels and war stories. (He also likes books about dwarves and elves, but that's irrelevant for the purposes of this blog post.) When the very nice people at John Murray Publishers sent me a copy of THE INTERROGATOR by Andrew Williams (who is either from Edinburgh, or lives there - I cannot find a website, unfortunately) I took one look at the back and thought "My Dad would love this." It's set in 1941, and is partially about the cracking of the Enigma Code. My Dad was born in 1935 and in 1941 he lived about 8 miles away from Bletchley Park where the code was cracked.

"Donna," I said to myself. "What is it, now?" I answered, "You're always such a pest." "Alright, alright, no need to be quite so stroppy. I've got an idea that will mean you can do less work on this blog thing of yours." "Really?" I said, suddenly interested...

Anyway, I thought I would get my Dad to review the book, because he would do it far more justice than I would. This has, of course, left me in a bit of a pickle with my Mum. (That's my Mum, on the left. She wouldn't let me use a proper picture "I don't like being on blogs, you get all those funny people on blogs...What is a blog anyway?) "What about me?" she said. "Am I not good enough to review books?" Now, my Mum as a reviewer would also work well, since I enjoy dark, warped books with lots of swearing, violence and bodily fluids. And my Mum...well, she doesn't. At all. At Crimefest in Bristol she met the charming Chris Ewan. He was so charming that she bought one of his books. Well, she got my Dad to buy it for her. My Mum is like the Queen, she doesn't carry cash. After she'd read it she rang me up. "Our Donna, why can't you write nice books like that nice Chris Ewan?" she said. "He doesn't need all that swearing and not nice stuff you go in for." The subtext was "I wish that nice Chris Ewan was my daughter."

So, I decided that any nice books I get, I will send to my Mum to review. Any thriller-y, spy-y, war-y sort of stuff, I will send to my Dad. So here, without further ado (since there has been far too much ado already) is my Dad's review of Andrew Williams' THE INTERROGATOR.

THE INTERROGATOR is part fictional, but based on facts about naval operations both at sea and on land. It tells the story of a naval interrogator questioning German submariners about their operations at sea, and whether the powers that be have knowledge of the codes in use by the British navy at that time. It also deals with the distrust of the so called intelligence forces, many of whom are based on actual people, though the story is fiction. The main character is of dual nationality, having a German Mother, and is not fully trusted by some of the people he works with. His friendship with some of the Germans grows, which also alienates some of his comrades, and he does maintain contact with them after hostilities have ceased.

A very enjoyable story, I was captivated from beginning to end. The heroes and villians were so lifelike, and in the end the villians turn out to be heroes, or so it seemed. I found it difficult to differentiate truth from fiction, as part of it was fact, the rest being of the author's imagination. The love interest part was believable as I understand this an acceptable part of life during wartime. Station X was mentioned a few times, a secret so well kept that it was not publicised until the 90s. Many residents of Bletchley were not aware that it existed until much later.

Thank you pater.

Royalty, Celebrity and Dodgy Politicans

Scotland is set to get a literacy tsar to try and encourage more young people to read. Let's hope none of them turns out to be Rasputin.

A review of Ian Rankin's comic book DARK ENTRIES - "an intriguing mix of pulp mystery, supernatural suspense, and celebrity culture parody"- it's about the supernatural murder of a contestant on a Big Brother-like reality TV gameshow.

In these troubled times when you can't trust a politician not to use your hard earned cash to clean out his moat or put up a chandelier in the loo, I think I'll pick my next MP by the book he reads on his summer holidays. Crime fiction features in the form of Ian Rankin, Lee Child, Reginald Hill and Stieg Larsson. Nobody mentioned Jeffrey Archer's HONOUR AMONG THIEVES. I wonder why.

Sleepy Sunday Summary

An excellent and hilarious interview with Allan Guthrie and Ray Banks in Pulp Pusher. And a top-notch review of Mr Guthrie's SLAMMER from The Drowning Man.

Fleshmarket Close gets an unattractive makeover - Edinburgh's streets are teeming with rubbish and the festival hasn't even started yet. Maybe Ian Rankin could use his new position as judge for the Sunday Times Scotland essay writing competition (which aims to promote political debate amongst young people and improve political accountability) could come up with some ideas to resolve the rubbish crisis. And when he's not dipping his toes into politics, he's being a rock star. And, talking of the marvellous Mr Rankin - a review of the short story collection CRIMESPOTTING, set in Edinburgh.

William McIlvanney makes Newsweek's 10 Favourite Crime novels. And he joins a campaign to save the Johnnie Walker whisky plant in Kilmarnock.

David Peace, who will be appearing at the Edinburgh Book Festival, talks to The Scotsman. And you can win tickets from The Big Issue to see David Peace, Irvine Welsh and others.

A great interview with Robert Downey Jr and Rachel McAdams on the forthcoming Sherlock Holmes film.

And finally, in true crime news, a new Tesco Express supermarket has opened up near me. This is great news as it means I can now get fresh fruit and veg from 6am until midnight. What do you mean "Come off it, tubby"? OK, OK, I can now get cake and chocolate from 6am until midnight. Happy now? Anyway, I was in there today buying...errrrr...cherries and blackberries (encased in chocolate cake) and enthusing over the fact that they were now in the neighbouhood. The checkout guy raised his eyebrows and said "Yeah, you and the junkies and the neds. They think it's Christmas. We're losing vast amounts of steak, cheese and washing powder." He nodded casually towards the door. "And there goes one now." I turned to see a ned running out of the door with a big box of Daz tucked into his shell suit top. From his awkward gait, I can only assume that his shell suit bottoms contained a couple of T-Bones and half a pound of brie.