Since I’m sure that you read the two chapters from Achilles Wept I’ve posted (Red and Smiley), you’d probably agree that William McVane tends to sarcasm and dry humor, gallows humor even.
Sarcasm being “the use of irony to mock or convey contempt.”
Whereas;
Dry humor (also referred to as deadpan or dry-wit humor) being “the deliberate display of emotional neutrality or no emotion, commonly as a form of comedic delivery to contrast with the ridiculousness or absurdity of the subject matter. The delivery is meant to be blunt, ironic, laconic, or apparently unintentional.”
Whereas;
Gallows humor being “grim and ironic humor in a desperate or hopeless situation.”
These definitions pretty much describe how McVane interacts with the world and, importantly, how he manages to maintain his nerve in awkward or dangerous situations. I thought I’d leave you with several quotes that I think reflect a special mix of McVaneisms, and then I’ll end the post with the latest iteration of the Achilles Wept book cover from CR Dimalla.
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[from page 25]
I handed the corrupt asshole another hundred Euros. He licked his fat lips.
“Get me a copy of his file,” I said.
He laughed, then broke into a phlegm-laced, hacking cough.
“It’ll take another four of these,” he said after he’d recovered. “You don’t like it, kiss my ass.”
I’ll jam your head into it, you dick. I gave him the bills. I got the file.
——-
[from page 93]
“Enjoying the view?” said Red, wearing the knowing smile, upraised eyebrow look that seemed to come naturally to beautiful women. I gave her the lecherous, lusty look that seemed to come naturally to perverted, horny men looking at half-naked gorgeous women. It was what she wanted to see.
“You’ll burn your nipples in this sun,” I said. “Won’t be any use to me burned.”
I made her laugh. It had come back to me lately, the sense of humor. I was smiling more, and it didn’t hurt my face as much to do it.
“You’ll just have to rub something on them,” she replied. “Got any ideas?”
I had lots of ideas.
“Here,” I said, tossing her the robe that had been draped over the chair next to me.
——-
[from page 193]
Red was starting to get in to the good life: apartment in Paris, estate on the Black Sea, the Nautilus, and now a private jet. She was like a kid in a candy shop, and it made me happy. The folks who said money didn’t were full of shit.
“This is cool,” she said. “You’re a regular James Bond.”
She was facing me, sitting in the Corinthian leather seat in front of mine. She had her legs pulled up under her, sipping champagne from a fluted glass. The small table between us held the remains of the Hungarian salami, Port Salut cheese and French bread that I’d bought on the way to the airport. I had gone with a six-pack of Stella Artois to wash it down.
“Bad news for you,” I said. “His girls get painted gold or strangled. He tosses away the ones that survive.”
“Well, he did get married once,” she said.
Her expression was more intense than a second before. That combination of hopefulness and determination that only a woman in love could wear.
“She was murdered,” I said.
It was the wrong thing to say. She threw her half full champagne glass at me. I caught it in midair, a couple of inches from my face. It didn’t keep the champagne from splashing on my face and shirt.
“God damn it!” she shouted. “You are such an asshole.”
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Here is the latest iteration of the book cover. The vignette of the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul is coming into focus.
It's a reader. Hey, if you've ever been around cops, the defense mechanism for dealing with tragic death usually comes with hard, dry, off-humor. Man, with the amount of death and horrific human tragedy that cops see, sometimes its all that keeps them from becoming a part of the human tragedy.
These are wonderful excerpts. I really love how the cover is looking!