The lyrical prose and the perfect Galway patter were seductive but in the end, I couldn't find it in me to like this drunk with a habit of violence and a passion for books.

I'd heard good things about the Jack Taylor series. They made a TV series about it so I thought, it can't be all bad if it's been on the tele now, can it?

"The Guards" starts well enough. The style is a kind of Nineties Philip Marlowe, if Marlowe had been an alcoholic from Galway who was well-read, didn't think much of himself or anyone else, constantly took the piss out of himself and was pretty hopeless at investigating things.

Jack Taylor's main achievements in life so far have been drinking and getting himself thrown out of the Garda (although not for drinking).

I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Gerry O'Brien, and found myself enjoying listening to Jack's self-mocking description of his first case as an unlicensed PI investigating the suicide of a teenage girl.

Let me share the close of chapter one with you. It'll give you the flavour of the thing. Jack is on his way home from too many glasses of Back Bush to recall and has stopped to pick up some chips, with a cod thrown in to make it seem more substantial.:

Is there anything more comforting than doused in vinegar chips? The smell is like the childhood you never had.

 

As I approached my flat, I was in artificial contentment. Turning to my door, the first blow caught me on the neck. Then a kick to the cobblers. For mad reasons, I hung on to the chips. Two men, two big men, they gave me a highly professional hiding. A mix of kicks and punches that came with the rhythm of precision.

 

Without malice but with absolute dedication. I felt my nose break. Would swear it made a crunch sound.

 

One of them said, "Get his hand. Spread the fingers." I fought that. Then my fingers were splayed on the road. It felt cold and wet. Twice the shoe came down. I roared for all I was worth. They were done. The other said, "Won't be playing with himself for a bit." A voice close to my ear, "Keep your nose out of other people's business."

 

I wanted to cry, "Call the Guards", as they headed off. I tried to say, "Buy your own chips!" but my mouth was full of blood.

I thought that was wonderful.

Sadly, Jack turned out to be the kind of man you sometimes meet, usually while consuming alcohol in a public place, who at first seems both charming and wise. His voice is soft, his bright verbal plumage is borrowed from the finest writers and he's happy to share the wisdom that his suffering has won him. By the fourth or fifth pint, the shine wears off, the borrowed feathers moult and you start to see that the charm is there to hide a man addicted to drink and prone to violence who knows in his heart that he's broken.

If your response to such a man is, "Well he is who is and he could be worse. Good luck to him." then I think you'll be reading the whole series. If, like me, you cannot find it in yourself to like this self-harming drunk with a habit for violence, then you'll be stopping after the first book.

The book itself is not so much about solving a crime as about seeing the kind of man Jack is, the kind of man he might be if he were able to stay sober and to understand the childhood that produced such flawed potential.

It's many decades since I last spent any time in Galway but Ken Bruen seems to me to present a credible version of the place and its people and that alone is reason enough to read the first book.

Decide for yourself. Click on the SoundCloud link below and let Gerry O'Brien cast Ken Bruen's spell over you.

https://soundcloud.com/ulverscroft/the-guards-by-ken-bruen

I decided to head to Ireland rather than Norway for my Modern Noir square.

I'd heard good things about the Jack Taylor series, the one they made"> the TV series about. It can't be all bad if it's been on the tele now, can it?

The style is a kind of Nineties Philip Marlowe, if Marlowe had been an alcoholic from Galway who was well-read, didn't think much of himself or anyone else and constantly took the piss out of himself. 

Jack Taylor's main achievements in life so far have been drinking and getting himself thrown out of the Garda (although not for drinking).

So far I'm enjoying listening to Jack's self-mocking description of his first case as an unlicensed PI investigating the suicide of a teenage girl.

Let me share the close of chapter one with you. It'll give you the flavour of the thing. Jack is on his way home from too many glasses of Back Bush to recall and has stopped to pick up some chips, with a cod thrown in to make it seem more substantial.:

Is there anything more comforting than doused in vinegar chips? The smell is like the childhood you never had.

 

As I approached my flat, I was in artificial contentment. Turning to my door, the first blow caught me on the neck. Then a kick to the cobblers. For mad reasons, I hung on to the chips. Two men, two big men, they gave me a highly professional hiding. A mix of kicks and punches that came with the rhythm of precision. Without malice but with absolute dedication. I felt my nose break. Would swear it made a crunch sound,

 

One of them said, "Get his hand. Spread the fingers." I fought that. Then my fingers were splayed on the road. It felt cold and wet. Twice the shoe came down. I roared for all I was worth. They were done. The other said, "Won't be playing with himself for a bit." A voice close to my ear, "Keep your nose out of other people's business."

 

I wanted to cry, "Call the Guards", as they headed off. I tried to say, "Buy your own chips!" but my mouth was full of blood.

 

Dick Francis: Field of Thirteen

I've owned this collection of short stories since forever and decided our Melbourne Cup Day book task was the perfect occation so pull it out and finally read it.  Candidly, I'm not sure why Dick Francis didn't write more short stories: both his style of writing and his plot construction lent themselves perfectly to the short form, and I tend to view even some of his novels as short story constructs extended to novel length rather than books conceived as novels in the first place (even though they probably were).  Be that as it may, this is a very enjoyable collection featuring some of Francis's best writing, set in the world of racehorse breeding (and stealing and betting), and against the great race events of Britain and the U.S., from the Grand National, Ascot, Sandown Park, the Marlborough Racing Club Gallops, Cheltenham and Stratford to the Kentucky Derby, plus the odd imaginary racetrack (unfortunately, not also the Melbourne Cup).  Not all of the mysteries involve a death, and not all the deaths that occur are caused intentionally -- word to the wise, however, steeplechase racing is a hazardous sport for humans and horses alike, and Francis makes no bones about this particular fact.

Ken Bruen: The Guards
(Narrator: Gerry O'Brien)

Ken Bruen's Jack Taylor series has been on my radar ever since I watched the first episode of its TV adapatation, starring Iain Glen.  The Guards provides as gut-punch an opener as is conceivable to the series; we see how and why Taylor is dismissed from the Gardaí Síochána, and though the motif of the loner detective who struggles not only at socializing but also with a range of other things, most notably including full-blown alcoholism, is a veritable staple in today's detective fiction, I can think of few other series where particularly the protagonist's addiction is explored this forthrightly (well, OK, Harry Hole comes to mind).  Taylor is -- literally -- not afraid to pull punches, but he is fiercly loyal to those to whom he feels loyalty is due ... and ready to take his loyalty all the way if necessary.  I've never been to County Galway, where the series is set, and I can't shake the feeling that I'd get even more out of it if I had, but even so, this is one series I'm glad to have finally added to those that I'm now following (and I'm not exactly sad I have a bunch of installments to catch up on first).  Gerry O'Brien's narration, too, did a stellar job in transporting the book's tone and atmosphere.

I listened to this for the Kwanzaa square (a book with a black cover). 

Patricia Wentworth: The Clock Strikes Twelve
(Narrator: Diana Bishop)

This came with high praise from both Tigus and Moonlight, so I knew I had a lot to look forward to -- and I was certainly not disappointed!  This is a New Year's Eve story and the "family patriarch publicly announces 'I know someone here has betrayed family interests and you've got until midnight to come forward and confess your sins'" classic mystery plot variant ... seriously, someone should have told those Golden Age family patriarchs not to do this sort of thing because it'll invariably get them killed.  Anyway, Wentworth had comfortably settled into her formula by the time she wrote this book, and I agree with Moonlight -- this is now my new favorite entry in the series, too.  Though written strictly to Wentworth's formula (cozy rural setting with bickering family [or village population], lovers to (re)bond, a reasonable but not impenetrable amount of red herrings, a perhaps not entirely unexpected villain, and an investigation by thoroughly compentent police inspectors who are, nevertheless, easily "bested" by Miss Silver), the characters and their various conflicts are finely and credibly drawn and jump off the page as real people ... and Miss Silver, as always, is a sheer delight.  Well done, Maudie!  And Patricia -- and Diana (Bishop), whose reading of the Miss Silver books I've thoroughly come to enjoy.

I'm counting this book towards the "Epiphany" square of "24 Festive Tasks" (a book with the word "twelve" in the title).

A book with a black cover -- listening to this for the Kwanzaa square.  A series I've long wanted to look ino.