In the last few digits of my countdown toward finally moving out of London, I find myself thinking a lot about The Ragged Man.
This is a story whose roots are inextricably tangled around my life in this city. It's virtually impossible, from my vantage point, to speculate on how apparent that will be to a reader who doesn't know me, but the fact of the matter is that it couldn't have been written in any other place or at any other time. The Ragged Man is my interpretation of London itself, the best and worst of it at once - and whatever else he may be, he is absolutely, inescapably his own worst enemy. He's probably yours, too.
Now someone's finally got him on paper. I take no further responsibility for him and the damage he will do. He's out of my head and he's out of my hands and he's your problem from now on.
Have fun with that in 2010. In the meantime, here's the first sequential preview from the jaw-flooring team of Neil Van Antwerpen and Peter-David Douglas. Just remember, when the time comes: they're the innocents in all this. If they'd known what they were letting us all in for, they would have run a mile from this deranged, suicidal monster of a book.