The real black stuff

Is lean, mean hard-boiled Irish fiction out to kick the ass of 'chick lit?' Declan Burke chews the fat with crime writer Ken Bruen

Raymond Chandler once said that Dashiell Hammett took crime fiction out of the drawing–room and dropped it in the alleyway. Decades later, most crime writers are still in that cul-de-sac, a dead-end where reactionary investigators surf the Zeitgeist only to reaffirm the status quo.

Ken Bruen is not one of those writers.

"In the beginning I went out of my way to have anarchy as the only thing I believed in," he says. "As an Irish crime writer, I could do what I liked. If you just do the accepted things, what's the point?

"One of the great things starting out writing Irish crime fiction was that there were no terms of reference. There was this incredible freedom. Joyce and Yeats and all the gang weren't leaning on my shoulder, because this was completely new. And I think that's a great position for any writer to be in, that you're not burdened by the baggage of the past."

The past, they say, is a different country; they do things differently there. Recently, though, in terms of Irish writing, the pulp/noir writing of post-Depression Era America has begun to be filtered through Irish sensibilities.

"I always say that my influences are American (Chandler, James M. Cain, James Ellroy), which doesn't get me a lot of friends, but those are the guys who taught me what I know. They're the books I loved reading.

"I think if the world survives another five or 10 years, crime fiction will be huge here in Ireland. It'll be the new chick lit, God forgive me. It'll be that big. I really believe it."

If that is the case, it will be due in no small part to Bruen himself. He has recently been commissioned editor of Dublin Noir, an Irish short–story collection due out in September 2005. As always, Bruen is tireless in promoting unknown talent.

"I wanted to get away from the usual suspects. For years, when you picked up a collection of short stories, it was the same guys every time. Without looking at it you would know the first nine names; they'd be asked to contribute automatically. And you read the same stories from year to year; the only thing that changed was the titles. They just got lazy. Like a rock band trotting out their greatest hits. One of the great things about this series of books is there's a lot of unknown writers in there, balanced with well-known names. The only criterion is that the writing be noir, as opposed to the cosy kind of crime fiction."

It's been a busy year for Bruen. Apart from publishing The Dramatist (Brandon) and Dispatching Baudelaire (Sitric Books), he sold a trilogy to Moscow and New York publishers within the space of a month. The Guards, the first in the Galway-based Jack Taylor series, is to be turned into a film, possibly starring (oh yes!) David Soul. He also has a profitable sideline exporting coal to Newcastle. Earlier this year, he was nominated for the prestigious Golden Dagger Award in America. Last month, The Guards (2001) won the Shamus Award for Best Novel in Toronto.

"One of the great moments, I tell you. I was nominated for three awards, and after the Edgar I thought…. I mean, everyone says, 'God, you're so lucky to be on the short-list.' And I know that, and I was delighted to be in such austere company. But … I couldn't believe it. They said I gave the shortest speech on record. Jason Starr said, 'Isn't this typical? Every time he loses he never shuts up. He wins, he hasn't a f***king word to say!' Honest to God, I was just so stunned."

Indeed, all of Ireland was – and remains – gobsmacked.

"As far as Ireland is concerned, I might as well have never won it. It does bother me, but not hugely. I mean, I'll be in America in a couple of weeks, where it's a huge deal. And because they're the ones giving me huge contracts, terrific reviews, putting me up for awards, I'm naturally going to say that America is where I'm aiming at. But it rankles. Of course it does. The message it sends out to other writers, particularly young Irish crime writers, is if you win a big crime award, it doesn't really mean anything. You have to win the literary awards.

"People ask me, 'Well, writing crime fiction is all very well, but when are you going to write a real book?' My answer to that is, I really believe the best literature is in crime fiction. There was a terrific essay by James Sallis a couple of weeks ago in which he said all the social issues are being addressed in American mystery novels, and the only literature that is relevant to ordinary people is crime literature.

"I have a very good friend who is an academic, a lecturer in one of the national universities. And two years ago he rang up and said, 'Ken, you seem to be doing really well with those crime novels. I was thinking of having a go at writing one.' I said, 'Great, the more we can get writing Irish crime the better. I have Chandler and James M. Cain and all the greats…' He said, 'No, I have a pure vision; I don't want it spoilt by reading crime novels.' He rang back about three weeks later, saying: 'I can't do it. I've really tried writing badly but I find I keep lapsing into literature.' Honest to God, that is the f**king attitude."

Ken Bruen has led a chequered life. He has been a poet, a teacher and an actor, playing psychopaths and priests for the Connemara-based Roger Corman Productions. He was once incarcerated in a South American prison, an episode with horrific personal consequences. His 50-something, deeply-lined face looks not so much 'lived-in' as 'recently abandoned by a horde of squatting crusties'. In person, he is softly spoken, a gentle and generous man who just so happens to write coruscating novels about the mayhem and anarchy that rage beneath the botoxed skin of civilised society. But he doesn't just write crime novels; he writes noir, which he defines as "writing that kicks you in the face".

"In America, they're terrible for writing novels with cat detectives – which sell really well. But the day I write about a cat detective I hope someone puts a bullet in my head."

Classic noir is celebrated for stripping the prose back to the bone. Bruen sucks the marrow out and spits it in your face.

"The only way you can write noir is to pretend that you have no parents. Because if you're writing with the brakes on, forget it. With the end of The Dramatist, I did find myself asking, 'Is this too dark?' But if it is, then I'm in the wrong business.

"It's really hard for me to judge my own work. When it's really good, I know. Say you hit a morning and you do two or three pages and it really cooks, and you f**king know it, then it's better than sex. For me, anyway. That's why I write.

"The best part is when a good review comes in. That's beyond your wildest dreams. One of the great moments for me was about 3 years ago. One Monday morning, there was a knock on the door, and it was the guys collecting the garbage. I thought, 'Did I not put out the right bin?' Anyway, it was early and my daughter was getting ready for school, and I said, 'What?' And they said, 'Will you sign the book…?' When ordinary guys, and I mean that in the best way, are reading your book…"

Ken Bruen's latest novels, Dispatching Baudelaire and The Dramatist, are available in all good bookshops. Dublin Noir will be published next year