Adrian McKinty

Set in the early 1980's, I HEAR THE SIRENS IN THE STREET is the second book in a trilogy built around Sean Duffy, a Catholic cop working in the reality of Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland in the middle of The Troubles. This is when neighbourhoods and towns are divided by religion and loyalty, when unemployment and community disaffection are soaring, and local cops check under their cars for bombs every single morning they head out for work.

It's a bit disconcerting to think that this is a timeframe that many of us know well, although it's now regarded as "the past" or historical. After all, this is my teenage, young adult years. Hence there's much that resonates, even in another country. The music, the clothes, the vinyl LPs. The way that Duffy's evenings are spent with the record collection, because TV is so dire, there's not that much difference between my rural Australia and his Carrickfergus. There is, however, a big difference when it comes to the society in which Duffy is operating. The Troubles override everything. The tensions between religions and alliances are palpable, and the isolation of the unemployed and the powerlessness of people playing out in violence and disruption is visceral.

The complications of the plot in this book are partially the complications of that life, a torso in a suitcase, the need to track down an identity, and a murderer fighting for focus every day with sectarian violence, police station bombings, neighbourhood division and the pressures of political interference. The picture drawn is clearly a society tearing itself limb from limb, and for a while it almost seemed like the idea of a limbless body was some sort of fascinating metaphor. But, as in real life, there's nothing glorious or meaningful about yet another self-interested, self-involved murder and somewhere, deep under the layers, it all comes down to one of the same old same old - money, sex, influence or power. Having said that, there is a bit of heavy lifting going on towards the end of the book and whilst some readers might find some of the plot elements a little bit dodgy, for this reader, it didn't require too much effort to just go with the flow.

As a central character, Sean Duffy is a keeper. He's flawed, complex without being complicated, very real and profoundly likeable. The situation in which he lives his life is stark and beautifully drawn. The dialogue and interaction between the characters is absolutely pitch perfect, you can see, hear, feel these people's presence. The writing is glorious, the books are littered with the most lyrically beautiful passages, particularly where McKinty steps up to describe the worst of possible circumstances and events.

For this reader, I HEAR THE SIRENS IN THE STREET is possibly not quite as perfect as THE COLD COLD GROUND, in the same way that I sometimes ponder whether the Scottish Play is not quite as perfect as Hamlet.
 

Buried in the darkest corners, or glittering away in the brightest hotspots there are bits and pieces of everyone's Australia being scribbled down on the back of beer mats, place mats, table cloths and menu cards. There are people writing great dollops of city based, mean gritty, and bright clean suburban streets based fiction. There are people out here in the hot, dry bits - Greater Australia as we all like to think of it - that are sitting in pubs, coffee shops and on the sides of dusty gravel roads weaving tales that are filled with a sense of who, what and where we all come from.

When people like the good ones at THE CRIME FACTORY haul a bunch of these sorts of stories into a collection like HARD LABOUR it almost feels like they have heard my pleading, begging and hoping like hell for more and more of these sorts of collections. It also doesn't hurt that the collection starts off on a particularly high note with a fantastic Wyatt entry by Garry Disher (if you don't know who Wyatt is then seriously - get thee to your favourite bookstore or library immediately)!

One of the best things about this set of stories is the way that many of the authors, known for their series, or particular style of novel writing, have stepped outside those strictures and tried something different. The ones that come immediately to mind are Leigh Redhead who has moved about as far from her Simone Kirsch series as she could probably get, and still be in the same country. Same with Angela Savage whose story set in a rural town had me hyperventilating quietly about the fate of peacocks, of which I'm particularly fond (and more than a bit keen to add to the zoo hereabouts). Others who aren't so well known to me seemed to have stepped out into some challenging subjects, styles and subject matter, all sticking to the noir, darker side of the spectrum.

Regardless of which stories become your own particular favourites, it's not too much of a stretch to promise that any fans of noir, or of tight, taut Australian storytelling will find gems in what is a most welcome addition to the short story options in Australia. It's absolutely fantastic to see this collection hit the streets. It will be even better when I'm happily contemplating the next, and then the one after that and the one after that. To wave a cliché under your noses "Do yourselves a favour". Supporting this sort of collection, and these sorts of publishers also does other readers a favour - ensuring what's really good and strong in Australian crime fiction writing gets an outing. You never know, it might also make a few more publishers sit up and smell the obvious as it bleeds all over those streets of theirs.