Christine Falls

A few days ago at The Rap Sheet -- and partly because it was St. Patrick’s Day and I wanted something Irish -- I wrote about Christine Falls by Benjamin Black. It’s a novel that’s getting a lot of attention, but that deserves every speck of ink it gets.

Fifty pages into Christine Falls, I judged the book overwritten. It seemed to be more about style than substance -- more sizzle than steak -- and I was tempted to put the book aside. I’m glad I didn’t. By page 100, I couldn’t put it down: I was entranced and enmeshed and otherwise embroiled in Black’s tale, classic Dublin noir--if there was such a thing--set in the 1950s and following the familial misdeeds of a Dublin pathologist we only ever know as “Quirke.” (First name or last? Maybe.) The PR material that accompanied that ARC of Christine Falls indicates that this will be the first entry in the “Quirke series” of books from Black. I’m glad, though I have a hard time imagining what Black will do to top this first effort.

You can read my reviewlet here.