The penultimate Jack Taylor story is out and I tried to make it last as long as possible, but I finished it. I always say I’m not much of a series fan but I am there for Bruen’s beaten and bloodied ex-Garda until the bitter end. If he gets resurrected, I’ll be there for that too. I was fortunate to pick up my signed copy at Charlie Byrne’s Bookshop and then enjoy a pint in Garavan’s on Shop Street and then read about Jack Taylor going to both of those places in the pages of the book. Surreal and delightful, just like Galway itself. If you know Bruen, you probably already bought this yourself. If you are among those not yet acquainted, it’s as good a place as any to dive in, though you may not know the true weight of the moment with his garda coat.
What to expect? Poetry, other crime novels, philosophy, music, drink, nuns, priests, actors, trouble — lots of trouble, always, but in particular trouble named Jericho — and quite unexpectedly, a hawk. Or rather, a falcon. Unspooling on the beautiful streets of Galway, which Bruen manages to make drip with the darkest shadows of noir. As Jack Taylor tells someone, ‘This is Galway. What they don’t know, they invent.’ I can never walk out to Nimmo’s Pier without thinking I might run into Taylor. Hasn’t happened yet. But it might.
Buy this book. Buy all his books. And never forget the parting gift.
‘A Galway girl
Doesn’t necessarily believe she
Is the best catch of all.
It’s more that she’d love
You to prove