By Ken Bruen
Nonetheless stinging from his unceremonious ouster from the Garda Siochana-The Guards, Ireland's police force-and looking at the area throughout the smoky backside of his beer mug, Jack Taylor is caught in Galway with not anything to seem ahead to. In his sober moments Jack aspires to develop into Ireland's most sensible inner most investigator, let alone it's first-Irish historical past, choked with betrayal and espionage, discourages any career so heavily relating to informing. yet honestly Jack is teetering close to his life's sharpest edges, his stories of the previous slicing deep into his soul and his customers for the longer term nonexistent.
Nonexistent, that's, until eventually a stunning lady walks into the bar with a wierd request and a rumor approximately Jack's expertise for locating issues. Odds are he won't be capable of climb off his barstool lengthy sufficient to get entangled along with his radiant new patron, but if he surprises himself by way of getting employed, Jack has little inspiration of what he's getting into.
Stark, violent, sharp, and humorous, The Guards is an outstanding novel, person who leaves you surprised and breathless, flipping again to the start in a mad sprint to discover Jack Taylor and input his international yet again. It's an unforgettable tale that's gritty, soaking up, and saturated with the rough-edged rhythms of the Galway streets. Praised by way of authors and critics around the world, The Guards heralds the arriving of a vital new novelist in modern crime fiction. The Guards is a 2004 Edgar Award Nominee for top Novel.
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Additional info for The Guards: A Novel (Jack Taylor)
Well, ha-ha, I sort of know what you mean, Mr. Kemp. Back in Tallahassee it was a cotton sack, but I guess it was about the same size and --" "Yeah, it's the goddamn sack -- so I'm taking off and I guess I'll. . ah. " "Mr. Kemp, I wish I could say how much I sympathize, but you understand that if I go back with a story about a rubber sack they're going to tell me it's useless and probably fire me. Now I don't want to press you, but I wonder if you could give me something more concrete; you know -- is there not enough opportunity here for aggressive young men?
He tossed the baseball up in the air and let it thud on the floor. "I know," he said. " I said, knowing Sala would turn it down. He had so many freelance assignments that I wondered why he bothered to keep his job at all. "Not a chance," he replied. " He leaned forward and dropped the baseball on the desk. "Who else is there? Moberg's a drunk, Vanderwitz is a psycho, Noonan's a fool, Benetiz can't speak English. . Christ! " He fell back in his chair with a groan. " he shouted. " I said. " He groaned again.
This business about Yale was a grisly joke. I had never been within fifty miles of New Haven, but in Europe I discovered that it was much easier to say I was a Yale graduate than to explain why I quit after two years at Vanderbilt and volunteered for the draft. I never told Sanderson I went to Yale; he must have got it from Segarra, who undoubtedly read my letter to Lotterman. Sanderson had gone to the University of Kansas, then to Columbia's journalism school. He claimed to be proud of his farm-belt background, but he was so obviously ashamed of it that I felt sorry for him.
The Guards: A Novel (Jack Taylor) by Ken Bruen