Turkey Lurkey

Hey, I'm still here. I went to Turkey for a week. It was great, other than the last night when my son puked a bucketload down my shirt. Serious projectile stuff, carrot chunks ricocheting everywhere. He's alright now.

Other experiences were infinitely better, such as the reading of Ray Banks' lager-fuelled SATURDAY'S CHILD. Although I was kind of looking forward to getting out of England for a while, Banks carried me back to the more squalid corners of Manchester and Newcastle... and I loved it. He writes about the kinds of people and places that I like reading about (ie: losers and shit-holes), and does so without flinch or compromise. This is a full-on bollocks-out thriller without all the airbrushery that you normally get. And the entirety is embued with a noir as thick as two-day-old motorway espresso. Roll on more Ray Banks books. This country needs HIM.

Incidentally, I followed SATURDAY'S CHILD with Hemingway's THE SUN ALSO RISES. Between those two books, believe me, that is A LOT of sauce getting sunk on the page. The Hemingway was also of interest to me because I know all the locations pretty well, except Pamplona. I was all set to head down there for the bull run in 1992, but something happened to thwart my crazy plans. I forget what, but it probably involved Hemingwayesque/Banksonian amounts of drink. For the best, I've no doubt.