Dublin - Tapa blanda

Dublin was mucky and vulgar. Like a tourist who gets drunk and wakes up with a huge tattoo.
This is what it's like for you: your name is Simon Dillon. You're 35. You're a failure. Too hungover to go to work, too lazy to get a new job, too keen to blame everyone else: your mad father, your estranged wife, your so-called friends. Blame them. Blame Dublin.
You'd rather do a few lines of coke, but there's a beautiful French woman you can't remember meeting, cops banging on the door asking about a dead woman you don't know, Russian gangsters asking questions you can't answer. Murders all over the city; bombs in O'Connell Street.
And it's got nothing to do with you. Except that it's all your fault.
A needle-sharp, funny and scathing thriller, set in a Dublin most people don't read about - the real one.

This is what it's like for you: your name is Simon Dillon. You're a failure. You drift from job to job. Your mother is dead, your father is crazy and your wife threw you out months ago. And what are you going to do about it? Nothing. It's easier to blame everyone else. Blame Dublin.

Like most other days, you wake up with a hangover and you'd rather do a few lines of coke than go into work. But today a woman you can't remember meeting is asleep on the couch. The police are banging on the door to ask questions you can't answer. There's a phone call from a murder victim. Then the real trouble starts.

And it's got nothing to do with you. Except that it's all your fault.