‘The Burning Man’ & ‘London’s Glory’ Arrive Next Week!
Occasionally on this site you have to endure a spot of advertising. So; the paperback of Bryant & May: The Burning Man and Bryant & May: London’s Glory arrive together on a suitably incendiary night – November the 5th, the latter sporting this mad cutaway drawing of the Peculiar Crimes Unit by Keith Page. There’s no official launch party (unless Transworld are holding one without telling me) but I’ll be signing all around town, so if you’re a bookseller or blogger and have a specific request for signed copies or interviews, please let me know below and I’ll pass them on to ‘my people’.
If you haven’t read ‘The Burning Man’ (and there’s a good chance you haven’t as I’m writing them faster than most people read), here’s a taster.
The squat ivy-covered building was home to the St Pancras Coroner’s Office, and as Arthur Bryant stumped up the winding path to the front door, he caught a glimpse of Rosa Lysandrou’s pale face peering out of a lead-light window at him.
‘Thank Goodness that was you,’ he said cheerfully as the housekeeper opened the door. ‘For a horrible moment I thought it was Miss Jessel from The Turn Of The Screw.’
‘I don’t know what that means,’ said Rosa flatly, ’but I suppose you are being rude as usual.’ She stood aside to allow him entrance.
Bryant tentatively extended his walking stick into the hall as if checking for land-mines. ‘It’s a book. And a film. And an opera. Do you enjoy reading?’
‘I enjoyed Fifty Shades Of Grey.’
Bryant quailed at the thought. ‘That’s not really reading, is it? More like staring at an assortment of words.’
‘It is very popular.’
‘So is taking photographs of your dinner for Facebook but that doesn’t mean it adds to the total sum of human knowledge.’
And here are a couple of reviews:
‘This is the 12th novel to feature the fabulously unorthodox detectives Arthur Bryant and John May and their colleagues at London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit. With the City in chaos as anti-capitalist protesters, enraged by the latest banking scandal, don Guy Fawkes masks and take to the streets, the octogenarian pair find themselves pitted against a killer who is taking advantage of the mayhem to dispatch his victims in a variety of ingenious ways, all fire-related. Fowler, an unashamed anorak, takes delight in stuffing his books with esoteric facts; together with a cast of splendidly eccentric characters ranging from white witches to unfrocked and potty academics, corkscrew plots, wit, verve and some apposite social commentary, they make for unbeatable fun.’ – The Guardian
‘Christopher Fowler is such a complete writer, marrying plot with character seamlessly and never choosing the easy way out with character arcs. Add in the huge background colour of the City and Arthur Bryant’s tales of its past (and of a variety of other topics as well) and you get such a reading experience. It’s like the bastard lovechild of Poirot, your favourite soap opera and QI. In a good way. Oh, and it’s also laugh-out-loud funny in places. Which makes certain parts all the more powerful – Chapter 35, for example, brought me to tears. And that’s only halfway through…don’t forget the tissues…’ – Classic Mystery
Meanwhile, much to my amazement and surprise, ‘The Sand Men’ continues to pick up some bloody amazing reviews. And I didn’t think anyone would like it. Glad I spent so long on it after all. Job done. Move on.