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PAUL KEARNEY

Paul Kearney was born in rural County Antrim, Ireland, in 1967. His father was a butcher, and his mother was a nurse. He rode horses, had lots of cousins, and cut turf and baled hay. He often smelled of cowshit.

He grew up through the worst of the 'Troubles' in Northern Ireland, a time when bombs and gunfire were part of every healthy young boy's adolescence. He developed an unhealthy interest in firearms and Blowing Things Up - but what growing boy hasn't?

By some fluke of fate he managed to get to Oxford University, and studied Old Norse, Anglo-Saxon and Middle English.

He began writing books because he had no other choice. His first, written at aged sixteen, was a magnificent epic, influenced heavily by James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Robert E Howard, and Playboy. It was enormous, colourful, purple-prosed, and featured a lot of Very Large Swords.

His second was rather better, and was published by Victor Gollancz over a very boozy lunch with a very shrewd editor.

Luckily, in those days editors met authors face to face, and Kearney's Irish charm wangled him a long series of contracts with Gollancz, and other publishers. He still thinks he can't write for toffee, but others have, insanely, begged to differ.

Kearney has been writing full-time for twenty-eight years now, and can't imagine doing anything else. Though he has often tried.


“He liked having the boy there beside him. Like some bright flame of life still burning bright beside the spent lamp of his own spirit.”
PAUL KEARNEY
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“I have found that there are two ways of dealing with men. Either you treat them with respect, or you kill them. Anything in between merely breeds resentment and the desire for revenge.”
PAUL KEARNEY
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