The Dark Stuff

We ve seen this script many times before: young Irish artist comes out of nowhere, signs a huge deal to cries of Hype! , debut sells extremely well thus silencing the doubters but the artist knows full well that they haven t really gone away and are lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce on the second offering and announce that the first was a complete fluke. Ah yes, the above scenario could apply to several Irish bands over the years but it s rather more unusual when the artist in question is an author.
John Connolly s debut novel Every Dead Thing was snapped up by publishers Hodder & Stoughton after a bidding war the like of which was last seen when the A&R hordes descended on Dublin in the early 80s looking for the next U2 . The 31 year-old Dubliner admits to an advance in the region of $1m for the grisly tale of former New York cop Charlie Bird Parker on the trail of a serial killer and, being as well-versed in matters musical as morbid, is only too aware that there were snipers lurking in bushes for a pop at the follow-up, the recently issued Dark Hollow.
The difficult second novel syndrome, he laughs. Yeah, I had a feeling there d be a touch of that when Dark Hollow came out, but so far the response has been pretty positive, The Arts Show on Radio 1 was the only real savaging. I take the musical analogy, in that I effectively had my whole life to come up with Every Dead Thing but I was planning ahead and there was a first draft of Dark Hollow ready before the first one came out. I really didn t want to place myself in a position where I d agreed to a two-book deal and started getting calls from publishers a year before a deadline with not a word written. There was an overlap in the writing of both books, which made sense for me as I d originally planned the whole thing as a trilogy, so it would have been putting unnecessary pressure on myself to have Every Dead Thing out in the public domain while I m sitting at home staring at a blank page.
Meeting the affable author you get the impression that while it would take an awful lot to faze him (this is, after all, a man whose nerve has withstood an appearance on Henry Kelly s Going For Gold and emerged triumphant from the bearpit that is Larry s Just A Minute Quiz, in the latter case adroitly exchanging a pile of Garth Brooks, er, goodies for a Beach Boys box set), the publicity surrounding his initial publishing deal did briefly threaten to overwhelm him.
I was feeling concerned at one point, he admits, as I felt that people were reviewing the deal and not the novel. There was speculation that there was no way the publishers could possibly hope to make back their money, but as it s sold over 400,000 copies I think we can safely lay that one to rest. All that nonsense went out the window as soon as people started buying the book. What tended to be overlooked, too, was that it was for two books, so Dark Hollow came as part of the package. As regards the final part of the trilogy, I m working on it but haven t signed a contract yet. I don t feel it s right to take money for something I haven t written yet. If it s finished this year then it s finished this year, if not . . .

John Connolly s journalistic background kicked off with Liberties News ( Probably the last local Dublin paper that justified having a cover price, before they all became advertising freesheets with all the merit of cat-litter ) and he progressed through the Sunday Press, the Sunday Tribune and the Irish Times before deciding to go for broke as a full-time novelist. Given the, shall we say, competitive nature of newspaper denizens in Dublin how did his former colleagues react to his success?
Ah, the begrudgery thing! he laughs. Believe it or not, that hasn t been an issue. In fact, the general response seems to be more of the fair play to you kind rather than what I d been led to expect. You know, the whole He was shite when he hadn t an arse in his trousers and he s still shite thing. I never got that. I think people were a bit taken aback alright, but most of them who knew me knew that I always had ambitions to write in the thriller genre. That s what I did when I went home at night. Some people play the guitar, some make model railways, I wrote.

When an early sample of Every Dead Thing picked up interest Connolly felt it was time to cut the safety net (although the world of freelancing is hardly the most secure environment in the world) and headed off to America for a year to fine-tune his research. In fact, moreso than begrudgery over the advance, it s Connolly s determined setting of both books in America which seems to have ruffled the feathers of the local literary establishment. On the aforementioned Arts Show the matter cropped up again so I put it to him, by way a compliment, that his books don t come across as the work of an Irish writer.
Thank you, comes the gracious reply, I was determined that they wouldn t and I m glad I appear to have succeeded in that. I never wanted to write the Irish novel and should I ever attempt to do so, please feel free to kill me. How many childhood reminiscences of rain-sodden rural Ireland in the 50s do we need? I think there have been more than enough dreary tales filled with silently suffering mothers, monstrous fathers and interfering priests, don t you? My influences are primarily American writers and there was just no way I could have set these books in Ireland. I know that America doesn t hold the monopoly on psychopathic killers but the canvas available is infinitely broader than here.
Cynics might suggest that a more mercenary explanation may lie in the fact that America not only has a greater market for sphincter-tightening suspense thrillers, but the use of Stateside locations could also act as a mental prompt for any producer who might be in the market for the film rights.
As regards the first point I wouldn t entirely disagree, says John candidly. The tradition I ve chosen to write in is an American tradition. I grew up reading crime fiction and with very few exceptions if you re going for that genre you really have to acknowledge that it s essentially an American form. I don t see that it s a cynical exercise merely to appeal to a huge market, although I readily admit that I m in the business of writing mainstream, popular fiction. I don t have the slightest problem with that, although some people apparently do. There seems to be a snobbishness among certain people in this country that if the public like a book then somehow it s not really literature . I find that grossly insulting.
As regards film rights, I m not sure, he says, hesitating for the first time in our conversation. I really can t see how these books could ever find their way onto a screen, especially the first one. I mean, if there are problems with Thomas Harris Hannibal then I can t see how the level of carnage in Every Dead Thing could be realised without the whole thing being fucked up. Nah, they were written as novels, not novelisations.
A fanatical music fan, Connolly cites The Walkabouts performance in Whelan s as his gig of 1999 and travelled down to Kilkenny for last year s inaugural Carlsberg Roots, Rhythm & Country festival to catch the great Kinky Friedman and The Gourds. In fact, the latter cop a mention on page 153 of Dark Hollow, along with Lambchop, The Triffids and The Go-Betweens.
It s no secret that I m a compulsive gig-goer and record-buyer, admits John. I was keen to mention those bands in the book because, hey, if someone got into The Go-Betweens or The Triffids because of me I d be absolutely thrilled. The second book is named after a Gene Clark song and he s namechecked there too, but there s a bit of a screw-up in the hardback edition as an e mysteriously appeared at the end of his surname. You spotted that, didn t you? It s been sorted out for the American edition, I assure you! In fact, I always fancied being a rock critic, but try as I might I just couldn t do it convincingly enough for myself so I stuck to what I know best. I know dead. And I do dead real good!