An Introduction by Allan Guthrie

Let me introduce the magnificent Duane “Leblanc” Swierczynski. Leblanc, as his writer friends like to call him (I’m sure he’ll tell you why at some point), is the author of several non-fiction books. He’s mainly explored true crime territory with This Here’s A Stick-Up, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Frauds, Scams and Cons and The Encyclopedia of the FBI’s Most Wanted List. But he’s not averse to writing books about alcohol either, from The Perfect Drink For Every Occasion to his latest, The Big Book O’ Beer. From his bibliography, you might be forgiven for thinking his favourite things are crime and alcohol.

Back in October 2003, Leblanc submitted the opening of a heist novel, Smell The Roses, to my authors’ showcase website, Noir Originals. It blew me away. But it wasn’t until March 2004 that I was introduced to the full power of the Swierczynski imagination. By this stage I’d become commissioning editor for a new crime line, PointBlank Press. Leblanc asked if I’d looked at a novel he’d written a little while ago that was now tucked away in a drawer. Like a fool, I said yes (‘fool’, because I’m now a Swierczynski addict). I knew within twenty pages that Secret Dead Men was a winner. The premise is typical of Swierczynski’s comic book-bizarro mind: Del Farmer is a PI who collects the souls of the recently dead and stores them in a hotel in his brain.

See?

Shouldn’t work. But it does. Because alongside his imagination is his other great gift: humour. He knows how to make you laugh until you cry.

Secret Dead Men is one of the most original PI novels you’ll ever read. If it doesn’t at least make the Edgar shortlist for best paperback original, I’ll stop smoking and drinking. I’ll even skin my cat, Bubbles. Okay, I’ll become a vegetarian.

At the start of August I was lucky enough to read the final version of Smell The Roses. It had the same kind of impact on me as Dead Men. In Roses a bank heist goes wrong, generating an intricate plot that straddles the best parts of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. I read it in a sitting and immediately passed it on to Ken Bruen. He cancelled an evening out to finish it, he’d become so gripped by the first 100 pages. We both recognised a master at work. Both said big things would come of it. Both crossed our fingers that Leblanc would get the publisher he and the book deserves. And maybe he has.

Watch this space and we’ll see. When, and if, he decides to tell us. His fault, you see, is his modesty. Which is why he couldn’t introduce himself on his own blog. Well, ladies and gentlemen, he’s asking for it.

I give you the one and only, truly original, incredibly modest, outrageously generous, completely brilliant, wonderfully talented, hilarious, genuine and smart-as-fuck king of the bizarre and master of the blindside, Duane “Leblanc” Swierczynski.

Al Guthrie

Psst, Leblanc. PayPal’s fine for the fifty dollars.