Firstly, apologies for the delay in this review to the author Paul D Brazill. He was kind enough to send me a copy of his new book, COLD LONDON BLUES, weeks, if not months ago, and it's been sitting around taunting me since.
There's a priest on the cover. Very Bruen. And always a good start.
The priest has bloody hands and the kind of look Vinnie Jones reserved for Gazza when he was grabbing his nut-sack. So, yeah, right up my street.
Brazill is a writer I've followed for a few years now. He writes about the kind of edgy, street scrapper that I go for. His stories move like a crack whore on roller skates too - that's fast and in directions you don't tend to see coming.
COLD LONDON BLUES is no exception. It opens with perhaps the best first-par I've read all year. The first par is a novel's storefront, if it doesn't draw you in, the writer's failed. I'm not going to recount it here, buy the book ffs! But let's just say it gets out the blocks like Usain Bolt.
The pace never falters from there. A stream of London lowlives come and go, each illuminating their own share of the darkness. There's wisecracks, soundtracks and spades of humour.
If you like your crime fiction gritty, but with a polished edge, then CLB is for you. Brazill has delivered another hurtling, scare-em-up, seat-of-the-pants ride that leads all the way to the blackest heart of darkness. A beaut of a book.
:: Buy COLD LONDON BLUES by Paul D Brazill at Amazon