Irish Noir

Even if Ireland wasn't always in my thoughts at this time of year, the TV and radio news would have brought it to my attention anyway. The "Celtic Tiger" seems to have chipped its teeth on the rock of bank debts gone bad. Some people have been predicting this catastrophe for a long time. While the economy struggles Irish crime fiction goes from strength to strength; that seems to be a characteristic of recessions / depressions.

Among the foremost of Hibernian crime writers is Ken Bruen, an author who is justly appreciated by the American audience and a true master of "Noir" fiction. A new film based on Bruen's novel "London Boulevard" is about to open in the UK starring "A-listers" Colin Farrell, Keira Knightley and Ray Winstone. I usually worry about what the process of film adaptation does to beloved books. Anyone who has read the original novels can only gawp in amazement at the utter incompetence of "8 Million Ways to Die", "Burglar" and "What's the worst that could happen?" (a film that sets out to answer the titular question straight away by putting Martin ("Big Momma's House") Lawrence in a starring role).

Fingers crossed I do have high hopes for "London Boulevard". As mentioned the cast is top notch and, here's where my heart lifts, the screenplay is by William Monahan who penned "The Departed". It's always wise never to underestimate the damage that Hollywood can do to any novel but I have a good feeling about this one. I also hope that Ken Bruen shifts a ton of books on the back of this movie. He deserves to be better known in the UK. In 2011 he'll even get a second bite at the cherry when the movie version of "Blitz", starring Jason Statham, gets released. More power to him!

Bruen's series of novels featuring Jack Taylor are extraordinary. They're the kind of books that I try to savour but inevitably end up reading in one or two sittings. They've even had an effect on my diet, which is no bad thing.

In each of the early novels"The Guards" and "The killing of the tinkers" Taylor is revealed as a man of enormous appetites; whiskey, Guinness, coke, speed, you name it. He's also partial to Celtic comfort food in the form of fish and chips. In both books the author describes the texture, the perfume and the perfect warmth of an idealised "Chippy" with loving care to the extent that I could feel my mouth watering (Proust can keep his madeleines). Unfortunately in both books as Taylor heads home clutching his supper he gets beaten up . Very badly. I can't say that these disturbing scenes have had a profound Pavlovian effect on my Irish Catholic habit of fish suppers on a Friday but now I do tend to have a good look round when I leave the shop.