It's Smarter To Be Lucky Than It's

We Become Comfortable Saying That There's Nothing New, And Then Something Like Malarky Comes Along, Which Is New And Old And Different And Familiar, But Ultimately Itself, Comfortable In Its Own Skin, Wise And Smart And Crazy-sexy Or Maybe Sexy-crazy-well, You Just Have To Read It To Understand. It's A Novel That Sets Its Own Course, Sure And Steady, Even When It Seems Like It Might Be About To Go Over The Edge Of The World.

I Think Baltimore Suffers From Nostalgia And It Keeps Us From Being Honest In Talking About What Really Happened Here. A Place Doesn't Have To Be Perfect To Be Beloved, And I Love This City And I Love It Better For Seeing Its Flaws.

Would-be Novelists Need To Bring Equal Parts Arrogance And Ignorance To The Task Before Them. The Arrogance Is Almost Self-explanatory. Walk Into Any Bookstore Or Library, Calculate How Many Lifetimes The Average Person Would Need To Read All The Fiction Contained Therein. To Think That One Has Anything To Contribute, To Any Genre Or Tradition, Takes Genuine Hubris.

The Competition For The Future Of Crime Fiction Is Fierce, As It Should Be, But Don't Take Your Eyes Off Craig Mcdonald. He's Wily, Talented And-rarest Of The Rare-a True Original. He Writes Melancholy Poetry That Actually Has Melancholy Poets Wandering Around, But Don't Turn Your Backs On Them, Either. I Am Always Eager To See What He's Going To Do Next.

How Magnanimous Was A Gesture If One Were Constantly Aware Of Its Magnanimity?