Stuart Neville's brilliant (stupendous, phenomenal, insert-superlative-of-your-choice) debut novel, The Ghosts of Belfast (known in the UK as The Twelve), goes on sale on the Budweiser and barbecue side of the pond today, and I'm here to tell you, this ain't your mama's thriller. Unless your mama's some kind of crazy crime-fic savant, that is. I mean, Patricia Highsmith was someone's mom, right? (What's that? She was an angry, alcoholic, misanthropic lesbian with no children? Oh. Still, though.)
Want prose that sparkles? This has got it. Rich characters? Check. Massive stakes? Neville's got you covered. So what the hell are you waiting for? Buy it buy it buy it.