“Declan Burke is his own genre. The Lammisters dazzles, beguiles and transcends. Virtuoso from start to finish.” – Eoin McNamee “This bourbon-smooth riot of jazz-age excess, high satire and Wodehouse flamboyance is a pitch-perfect bullseye of comic brilliance.” – Irish Independent Books of the Year 2019 “This rapid-fire novel deserves a place on any bookshelf that grants asylum to PG Wodehouse, Flann O’Brien or Kyril Bonfiglioli.” – Eoin Colfer, Guardian Best Books of the Year 2019 “The funniest book of the year.” – Sunday Independent “Declan Burke is one funny bastard. The Lammisters ... conducts a forensic analysis on the anatomy of a story.” – Liz Nugent “Burke’s exuberant prose takes centre stage … He plays with language like a jazz soloist stretching the boundaries of musical theory.” – Totally Dublin “A mega-meta smorgasbord of inventive language ... linguistic verve not just on every page but every line.Irish Times “Above all, The Lammisters gives the impression of a writer enjoying himself. And so, dear reader, should you.” – Sunday Times “A triumph of absurdity, which burlesques the literary canon from Shakespeare, Pope and Austen to Flann O’Brien … The Lammisters is very clever indeed.” – The Guardian

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Moore Bang For Connolly’s Book

Yet more good news for John Connolly (right) fans: Irish director John Moore (Behind Enemy Lines, The Flight of the Phoenix) has optioned the rights to last year’s The Book of Lost Things. It’s an unusual move for Connolly, who has been excessively cautious to date about allowing movie-types to get their grubby mitts on his material, particularly the Charlie Parker novels. The Book of Lost Things being a standalone, maybe Connolly figures that even if it’s a total mess it can’t do too much damage – but while Moore is a relatively young director at 37, he’s proved himself a capable pair of hands, as with last year’s workmanlike remake of The Omen. Will Connolly’s tale of a bereaved young boy who retreats into the fantasy world of his books prove the inspiration that kicks Moore upstairs into the big Hollywood leagues? Only time, that perennial doity rat, will tell.

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