The Art Of Written Thuggery

Ken Bruen: Take one part Bukowski, one part Chandler, fill to the rim with Bushmills and shake.  Then throw that mix into the face of the ugliest motherfucker in the bar and bite his ear off.  That's how Bruen writes.

Will Beall:  L.A. cops, rappers, gangbangers and a jaguar.  We’d have made it a monkey, but what do we know? Haaaaard-core.

Sean Chercover:  Want an authentic voice in your P.I. fiction?  Try this guy.  A former P.I. himself, Sean Chercover brethes new life into the form.

Reed Farrell Coleman:  The man some call the unofficial voice of Brooklyn crime fiction.  In our opinion, it is official.  His next novel – County of Kings – will be released under the moniker of Tony Spinosa.  We can’t wait to see what Reed… er, Tony…  Well, REED has in store.

Barry Eisler: John Rain, his Japanese/American killer, is one of the most intriguing characters in print.

Victor Gischler: Redefining hardboiled noir for a new generation.

Pearce Hansen:  Fiction from the street.  Gutter-low and dirty, the way we like our women.

Charlie Huston:  This guy pens like a motherfucker.  Writes characters that practically bleed off the page.  Vicious, vicious stuff.  Just the way we like it.

Joe R. Lansdale:  The man is a sick genius.  Imagine Harper Lee with a darker imagination.  Not only does he write about it all, but he writes about it brilliantly.  

Greg Rucka:  Atticus Kodiak.  Possibly the greatest hardboiled name yet. No relation to Boo Malone (see: The Hard Bounce )

Marcus Sakey:  Easily one of the best new voices in crime fiction in a decade.  The streets and people of Chicago burst from the pages.

Jason Starr: Jim Thompson's heir.  Plain and simple.   The pure, undistilled master of urban noir.

Charlie Stella (Shakedown): Mafia stories so real, you can almost smell the marinara.  Pistol-whip paced, dark and funny

Andrew Vachss (Two Trains Running): Not a writer for the faint of heart. He's the warrior-poet laureate of New York City.  Both a man and a writer to be taken as seriously as a bullet to the knee.  There is no imitating him, just admiring him.  Mr. Vachss (rhymes with fax, by the way) once said that he may only play one note, but he hits that key as hard as he can. You should hear that note. See what we mean at his website.

Are there more?  Sure.  Have we read them all?  Hell, no.  And of those great writers that we have, certain peeps (Dennis Lehane, Lawrence Block, Robert Parker, Harlan Coben, to name a few) sure as hell don’t need our endorsement.