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By the time you read this, I’ll be taking the slow route to the airport in preparation for a weeklong stint in New York. Though there’s a fair amount of pre-posted stuff due today (mostly of the book deal variety) blogging as a whole will be of a distinctly light nature. If time warrants, I may do some reportage from this weekend’s New York is Book Country, where you’ll probably find me loitering in and around the Black Orchid booth or attending a few talks here and there. But the likelihood that much of what appears here will be of the “we are never drinking again” variety is very, very great. So if you are one of these conspirators in debauchery, it’ll be great to see you, either again or for the first time.

But in the meantime, some stuff to chew on:

The CWA has announced the shortlist for the 2004 Debut Dagger competition. It’s a very diverse list with writers representing Canada, the USA, the UK, Ireland, and Italy. Congrats to all the nominees, who will find out which one gets the big prize at the Dagger ceremony on November 9.

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What makes the thriller so appealing]4? And why are they getting faster and faster paced? All questions The Age attempts to answer, in some detail.

Scott Turow’s deluged under the weight of manuscripts, and would really, really like to stop blurbing already. Dude, really–all you have to do is say no. Or get out of the game. Next thing you know, there’ll be anti-blurbing campaigns, indignant pro-blurbers, and warnings that blurbing is hazardous for your health and requires a Surgeon General’s warning. Oh, wait….(link originally seen at Publisher’s Lunch)

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The Scotsman interviews John Mortimer]7, who at the age of 81 has delivered his first Rumpole novel (a prequel) and is grappling with the complications of finding out he has a son out of wedlock–42 years after the fact.

Another rave for ABSENT FRIENDS, this from Oline Cogdill, although it’s somewhat more tempered than mine. Cogdill also has a feature article in the Sun-Sentinel today about the landmarks and quirks that made John D. MacDonald’s novels what they were.

Ron Bernas–not exactly a fan of Richard Marinick’s debut novel BOYOS.

I’m not sure if this article by Lillian Pizzichini (who seems to have jumped ship from the Telegraph to the Independent without me knowing it) really shines another light on the whole argument about whether writers should go to school to learn the craft or not, but then again, this is really just all about Susanna Clarke anyway.

The shortlist for the Dundee book prize has been announced, and all three finalists will see their novels published by Polygon.

Why didn’t anyone tell me about this? A history of comedy teams? Bloody hell, sign me up.

Thought you had enough of the Norma Khouri scandal of a few months back? Think again. Turns out when she ran off and hid, she left her kids in the hands of a caregiver, who’s running out of funds and wants Khouri to come back and fetch them. Ah, the plot, it certainly thickens….

Mark D’Arbanville’s THE NAKED HUSBAND is a tale of infidelity gone horribly wrong–and as he tells The Age, it’s based on an experience in his own life that seriously undid him.

And finally–WTF? Why is Leno announcing his replacement now? Why is it going to be Conan? I mean, I like the guy, but come on–his audience is generally of the college frat boy type, not the expected demographic. Someone go revive Jack Paar, OK? (Or better yet, get the young Jerry Lewis, who was evidently incredible, but too weird for prime time and booted off after six weeks.)