Coketown, by Barney Farmer (Wrecking Ball Press, 2019)

A man on a pub crawl; he might write a book, might not. Tremendous stream-of-consciousness/tone poem/scabrous pop culture reference-littered journey through a long dark night out on the piss of the soul. Splendidly observed/experienced; like a half-pissed James Joyce cadging a smoke outside a Preston Wetherspoons.

My own books here, if that’s your thing. Newest is noir thriller East of England.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s