Links to influences on Brookmyre:
Carl Hiaasen
Plot summary/blurb concerning Hiaasen's novel Lucky You:
Grange, Florida, is famous for its miracles--the weeping fiberglass Madonna, the Road-Stain Jesus, the stigmata man. And now it has JoLayne Lucks, unlikely winner of the state lottery.
Unfortunately, JoLayne's winning ticket isn't the only one. The other belongs to Bodean Gazzer and his raunchy sidekick, Chub, who believe they're entitled to the whole $28 million jackpot. And they need it quickly, to start their own underground militia before NATO troops invade America.
But JoLayne Lucks has her own plans for the Lotto money--an Eden-like forest in Grange must be saved from strip-malling. When Bode and Chub brutally assault her and steal her ticket, JoLayne vows to track them down, take it back--and get revenge.
The only one who can help is Tom Krome, a big-city investigative journalist now bitterly consigned to writing frothy features for a midsized central Florida newspaper. With a persuasive nudge from JoLayne, Krome is about to become part of a story that's bigger and more bizarre than anything he's ever covered.
Chasing two heavily armed psychopaths down the coast of Florida is reckless enough, but Tom's got other problems--the murderous attention of a jealous judge; an actress wife who turns fugitive to avoid divorce court; an editor who speaks in tongues; and Tom's own growing fondness for the future millionairess with whom he's risking his neck.
The pursuit takes them from the surreal streets of Grange to a buzzard-infested island deep in Florida Bay, where they finally catch up with the fledgling militia--Chub, Bode Gazzer, a newly recruited convenience-store clerk and their baffled hostage, a Hooters waitress.
The climax explodes with the hilarious mayhem that is Carl Hiaasen's hallmark. Lucky You is his funniest, most deliriously gripping novel yet.
Robertson Davies
An aphorism by this conservative gentleman, the elder statesman of Canadian letters in the last three decades of the 20th century:
Do not suppose, however, that I intend to urge a diet of classics on anybody. I have seen such diets at work. I have known people who have actually read all, or almost all, the guaranteed Hundred Best Books. God save us from reading nothing but the best.
- Robertson Davies
Brookmyre seems to have 'stolen' several character names from The Cornish Trilogy
Warren Zevon
Parlabane seems to be an ardent Zevon fan, as indeed does Brookmyre...
The 'title lyrics':
Quite Ugly One Morning:
Don't the sky look funny
Don't it look kinda chewed-on like
Don't you feel like running
Don't you feel llike running from the dawn's early light
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
Just a flash of light
Don't you feel kind of funny
Don't you feel kind of funny inside
When you feel like laughing
And everybody tells you you ought to be crying
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right
From dawn to sundown
It's a long, long way
And it's a hollow triumph
When you make it to the bottom of another day
There's a fever rising
When the evening comes
And when the battle's over
There'll be nothing left but the sound of drums
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
Just a flash of light
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right
Carl Hiaasen
Plot summary/blurb concerning Hiaasen's novel Lucky You:
Grange, Florida, is famous for its miracles--the weeping fiberglass Madonna, the Road-Stain Jesus, the stigmata man. And now it has JoLayne Lucks, unlikely winner of the state lottery.
Unfortunately, JoLayne's winning ticket isn't the only one. The other belongs to Bodean Gazzer and his raunchy sidekick, Chub, who believe they're entitled to the whole $28 million jackpot. And they need it quickly, to start their own underground militia before NATO troops invade America.
But JoLayne Lucks has her own plans for the Lotto money--an Eden-like forest in Grange must be saved from strip-malling. When Bode and Chub brutally assault her and steal her ticket, JoLayne vows to track them down, take it back--and get revenge.
The only one who can help is Tom Krome, a big-city investigative journalist now bitterly consigned to writing frothy features for a midsized central Florida newspaper. With a persuasive nudge from JoLayne, Krome is about to become part of a story that's bigger and more bizarre than anything he's ever covered.
Chasing two heavily armed psychopaths down the coast of Florida is reckless enough, but Tom's got other problems--the murderous attention of a jealous judge; an actress wife who turns fugitive to avoid divorce court; an editor who speaks in tongues; and Tom's own growing fondness for the future millionairess with whom he's risking his neck.
The pursuit takes them from the surreal streets of Grange to a buzzard-infested island deep in Florida Bay, where they finally catch up with the fledgling militia--Chub, Bode Gazzer, a newly recruited convenience-store clerk and their baffled hostage, a Hooters waitress.
The climax explodes with the hilarious mayhem that is Carl Hiaasen's hallmark. Lucky You is his funniest, most deliriously gripping novel yet.
Robertson Davies
An aphorism by this conservative gentleman, the elder statesman of Canadian letters in the last three decades of the 20th century:
Do not suppose, however, that I intend to urge a diet of classics on anybody. I have seen such diets at work. I have known people who have actually read all, or almost all, the guaranteed Hundred Best Books. God save us from reading nothing but the best.
- Robertson Davies
Brookmyre seems to have 'stolen' several character names from The Cornish Trilogy
Warren Zevon
Parlabane seems to be an ardent Zevon fan, as indeed does Brookmyre...
The 'title lyrics':
Quite Ugly One Morning:
Don't the sky look funny
Don't it look kinda chewed-on like
Don't you feel like running
Don't you feel llike running from the dawn's early light
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
Just a flash of light
Don't you feel kind of funny
Don't you feel kind of funny inside
When you feel like laughing
And everybody tells you you ought to be crying
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right
From dawn to sundown
It's a long, long way
And it's a hollow triumph
When you make it to the bottom of another day
There's a fever rising
When the evening comes
And when the battle's over
There'll be nothing left but the sound of drums
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
Just a flash of light
Quite ugly one morning
We all said goodnight
It came without a warning
But it was quite all right