Great crime novels should be compelling, they should capture the very essence of the characters and location, they should be enthralling and lay bare the soul of the individuals within. They paint a world of harsh reality often using beautiful and yet hauntingly poetic language, in which the plot twists and turns and grips like a vice from page one.
I’ve always been an avid reader of crime fiction and it was only natural that my first book would be in this genre. I admire those authors who can combine a compelling crime story line with a good dose of humour, such as Stuart McBride (especially the relationship between Logan McRae and his boss, the foul-mouthed harridan, Steel), William McIlvanney or Mick Herron. But it was in the gentler humour and engaging characters in Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club stories and Ian Moore’s French Mischief where I finally found inspiration to get started on Death in Blossom Hill.
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