Knox presents the city as pungently and uncompromisingly as Ian Rankin does Edinburgh
A firecracker of a crime tale. His writing is taut, atmospheric and studded with eye-catching descriptions. An arresting new talent.
Razor-sharp urban noir – very special indeed.
Sirens is a powerhouse of noir. Joseph Knox owns Manchester and paints it in all its grimy colours.
Thrilling, breathless stuff
The dark, gritty underbelly of Manchester is captured with eviscerating authenticity in this debut . . . This is urban noir at its freshest and most ferocious.
A noir in that great tradition of the American writers James M Cain and Dashiel Hammet . . . it reminded me a bit of Chandler’s LA, the whole city is corrupt, the authority figures are as bad as the criminals.
Jake Kerridge on Open Book, Radio 4
Jumps straight into the top league of English noir.
Manchester throbs with lowlife in this startling debut . . . a page-turner with a beating heart. I loved it.
This is an excellent read; it feels both classic and completely new and is remarkably assured for a first outing.
Gripping, powerfully compelling debut
Waits’ first fictional outing is a shadowy, disturbing narrative and once you start reading it’s hard to resist the call. Sirens is the best British crime debut of the last five years.
A fierce, assured and utterly compelling debut . . . A Ross MacDonald for the 21st century.
Great read. A powerful piece of Manchester noir, brutal, poignant and dark as tar.
Fresh and darkly stylish, Sirens is a striking debut that marks the arrival of a major new crime writing talent.
Sirens immediately feels like a classic, not a debut . . . a book for every crime fan.
Julia Heaberlin, author of Black Eyed Susans
An amazing thriller. Sexy, stylish suspense.
A. A. Dhand
A dark, dangerous noir, Sirens will be one of 2017’s smash hit debuts.
A down and dirty slice of Manchester noir . . . Impressively bleak.
Page-turner is the only word for it.
January 30, 2017
February 15, 2017
January 12, 2017
Afterwards I went back on to the night shift. They’d never trust me in the daylight again. I spent my time responding to 4 a.m. emergency calls, walking up and down dead escalators and trying not to think. I’d been good at that once. I could hardly believe it, a few months later, when I saw my breath in the air again. Saw November coming back around.
‘Shittin’ it down,’ said Sutty, refusing to get out of the car. Sometimes it was hailstones and sometimes it was slush. Tonight it was sheet rain, catching the light and cleaning down the streets. They needed it. My partner handed me his newspaper and I got out of the car, holding it over my head as an umbrella.Continue Reading