I got the boat up to Shetland, being as I am a stink old romantic when it comes to things like that - cue spirited renditions of A Life On The Ocean Wave, What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor, and In the Navy (if you're that way inclined*) - and I came across a copy of the Daily Mail's Sunday magazine** someone had left behind in one of the ferry's bars. And there, nestling in its pages, like a sleepy hamster, was a review of BROKEN SKIN:
"As with all MacBride's gritfests this is brilliantly written, world-class stuff framed around a solid, enduring character."
Ah, be still my swelling ego. Then it latches on to a recurring theme:
But for me the real hero is carnapcious lesbian DI Steel - a woman with the kind of attitude and dialogue that would befit the long-lost love, child ofBilly Connolly and Joan Rivers.
Mr MacBride, we demand a spin-off series."
So it looks like I'm definitely going to have to kill DI Insch off in the fourth one. Or maybe I'll kill off DI Steel, just to be an utter bastard?
Anyway, in less egotistical news the thing last night with readers' groups seemed to go OK - especially one question that's going to have be going back and looking at how I write a couple of my characters and trying to figure out how to do a better job with them - and there was even a bit of 'going to the pub' afterwards. Which can't be bad.
Tonight it is the big book and heuch-fest at the Library. Which should be fun. I can't decide whether or not to have a sing-song as part of my bit, or not. Hmm… tempting.
* Incidentally, I've never had a job with it's own theme tune. How cool would that be?
** But not in an oo-er-Missus! Kind of way.
Labels: Broken Skin, ego