- Published: 21/06/2012
- ISBN: 9781847087584
- Granta Books
From the same fictional world as his forthcoming novel Hawthorn & Child, Keith Ridgway gives us a self-contained story about the danger of stories. A novelist that no one reads, Clive Drayton has decided to set aside literary fiction and write a bestseller. Easy, right? But there are choices to be made. What sort of story should it be? A thriller, of course. About a convoluted and compelling terrorist plot, and the copper who must stop it. And the target? Well, it’s London, it’s 2012 – what do you think the target is? What could possibly go wrong? Ridgway gives us a comic and cautionary tale about a man who tries to make it all up, and about the risk of being believed.
There's been just one thing lacking from the great Olympics run-up: metafiction... This knowing little bagatelle will get you through a Tube trip nicely
Incredibly good ... I read it in one sitting, completely thrilled by the audaciously deceptive simplicity of both Ridgway's writing and the story itself
From the Same Author
Hawthorn and Child
Hawthorn and his partner, Child, are called to the scene of a mysterious shooting in North London. The only witness is unreliable, the clues are scarce, and the victim, a young man who lives nearby, swears he was shot by a ghost car. While Hawthorn battles with fatigue and strange dreams, the crime and the narrative slip from his grasp and the stories of other Londoners take over: a young pickpocket on the run from his boss; an editor in possession of a disturbing manuscript; a teenage girl who spends her days at the Tate Modern; and a madman who has been infected by former Prime Minister, Tony Blair. Haunting these disparate lives is the shadowy figure of Mishazzo, an elusive crime magnate who may be running the city, or may not exist at all.
Keith Ridgway on Granta.com
Fiction | The Online Edition
‘I believe, though I cannot prove, that my illness is due directly to the perverted Catholicism and megalomania of Mr Tony Blair, former Prime Minister, whom I met once.’