I sometimes tell Andrew, my husband, that reviews don’t really matter that much. I might pronounce this rather loftily while waving a wine glass about.
‘Look,’ I’ll say, ‘reviews, just one person’s opinion innit?’ Well I don’t say ‘innit’ because I was brought up in Wicklow and we don’t bandy ‘innits’ about quite so readily.
But it’s all lies of course. Reviews might be just one person’s opinion, but it’s their opinion on your baby, the product of your blood sweat and tears, that piece of you you’ve released into the world for consumption
So upon opening the Weekend Section of the Irish Times and spotting a familiar title my pants would be flaming if I didn’t admit to uttering a small but audible ‘eek.’
However! My ‘eeks’ were for naught.
“After reading the blurb of Arlene Hunt’s Undertow (Hachette Books, £11.99) I believed I was in for a jolly, Agatha Christie-type thriller. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The writing here is as hard as flint and twice as combustible. It is set in modern-day Dublin and it shows the dark underbelly of the city’s crime. The two protagonists are Sarah Kenny and John Quigley, who run a private detective agency. They are hired by a pregnant young girl to find the father of her child, one Orie Kavlar. Orie is involved in people smuggling, especially Eastern European women who are put working in nightclubs. Finding him opens up an ant’s nest for the two detectives and they are soon up to their armpits in violence and bodies. This is a gritty and action-filled offering that pulls no punches.”
Hard as flint and twice as combustible. Indeed.