1977 by David Peace

I've just finished reading 1977, the second book of David Peace's Red Riding Quartet. I've always had my suspicions about Yorkshire, but this is just ridiculous. Who ever knew - the inner circle of Hell appears to be the Leeds inner ring road. Here's my review, written in style as an homage to Peace, (who is in his own way writing an homage to Ellroy).

Whores and hopelessness, moor and murderers. Cups of tea and kicks to the head, chip supper and backhanders, racist plod prowl in their pandas. Rain washed streets that flow with blood, pints and fags in place of love. Forgiveness sought and never found, floral carpets blood stained brown, pain for no gain, corruption without interruption. A city drowning, it people fucked up, bodies dumped on wasteland abused and cut up. There is no salvation there is no heaven. This is Yorkshire, 1977.
I put it down in disgust.
I pick it up again.
I put it down in disgust.
I pick it up again.
I put it down in disgust.
I pick it up again.
I put it down in disgust.
I pick it up again.

So it's not going to be everyone's cup of tea, and there definitely aren't any sugars added, but if that's your bag, it's a hell of a book. In both ways.