Newcastle, 1946. 19-year-old Jack Smeaton returns from the trenches, his hair turned white by the traumas of WWII. He seeks solace in socialism, falling under the spell of the young T Dan Smith, visionary future leader of the city council, architect of tower blocks and sculpted concrete. Meanwhil...
When someone tells me I am missing out on an author I usually check out their bibliography and if they have 8 or 10 books and have really no following and poor/average Amazon ratings it is a good indication that I should just stay away. Music and writing are both arts forms, but I think it is far...
"Waites stands out in the field of young British noir writers . . . with his bruised characters, raw-edged dialogue, and extraordinary night vision."-Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review The body is discovered in an abandoned burial ground: a young woman, blond, ritualistically mutilate...
In the dining room, Tom and James were kept apart from the other children, going hungry. They sat at a separate table writing out lines as punishment, under Jean’s watchful gaze. I must not bully the other children. I must not bully the other children. I must not … The others knew exactly what ha...
“Aw, no …” Mickey Falco’s whole body seemed heavier, as if a great weight was pressing down on him. He fell into a chair at Larkin’s bedside. Without waiting to be asked he took a glass from the bedside cabinet and helped himself to a generous slug from Larkin’s bottle, sighed, shook his head. Th...
He expected Abigail to point and laugh at him at the very least. But she didn’t. Either she was too polite, which was possible, or genuinely interested in the question, which he very much doubted. ‘Oh,’ she said, putting the straw back in her smoothie and licking her lips, which Jack pretended no...
And suddenly Larkin was in the ring, fighting. Just as abruptly the fighting stopped, but the bell kept on ringing; he opened his eyes. He’d expected to be laid out on the canvas, but he wasn’t, he was in a bed. A strange one. He jumped up, immediately regretted it, and flopped back down. Whoever...
And again. In — Curl — Hold it … Out — Down. The rhythm of the weights consumed Ezz’s conscious mind. His hand, white-knuckled, gripped the barbell. Up to his shoulder – flex – down again. Face red, neck muscles taut, he changed hands and started the sequence with the other arm. It was the reappe...
Tried to swallow, but that just reminded him of the pain in his mouth. What he deserved, he thought. For betraying the party. Even for Jason, the lost boy. It wasn’t what a Knight of St George did. A foot soldier of the revolution. Then maybe he wasn’t one. The thought hit him like a well-aimed b...
His chest rose and fell, his breath shallow and sharp. He slid a bullet into one of the six chambers. Clicked the barrel shut, spun it, replaced it on the table. He stared at it, his world reduced to that one piece of lethal metal. He breathed heavily – once, twice – then swallowed hard and, eyes...