by Warren Ellis
I have this image in my head of Warren Ellis sitting outside his local pub in the light summer snow of southern England, stabbing at the folding keyboard of his iPad with only his middle fingers, muttering around the cigarette hanging from his lips about stupid fucking commas. There’s also empty cans of Redbull and a few broken, empty bottles of Whiskey littered around his feet. This fiction, in part, comes from Ellis himself, from his posts on twitter and his site, but mostly it’s my own romantic vision of him.
Another thing I get from Ellis’s posts on the web is that, wherever he’s writing, he approaches work not as some lofty artistic pursuit, but the same way he’d go about digging a ditch, or building a bridge, or assembling a strange device designed to inflict pain. This is backed up by every single word and sentence in Gun Machine.
Gun Machine is about NYPD detective John Tallow’s investigation into a roomful of guns he finds moments after his partner is shot dead right in front of him. It’s a short read, but it never slows down from the first page on, and each of the secondary characters could star in their own books.
I’m not usually a fan of crime fiction, and frankly hate the kind of procedural cop dramas Fox is likely to turn Gun Machine into, but if Ellis suddenly becomes prolific in the genre, I might just forsake the usual sword and sorcerer and spaceship bullshit I usually read.
Do yourself a favor and read Gun Machine, and if I haven’t convinced you, watch these 2 excellent trailers for it.
[editor: Here's where you can buy Gun Machine]
This post was written by guest writer, Tim Kress. He is the author of the book Early Mourning. When he’s not publishing strange web comics about Roy Orbison, Tim can be found harassing the masses on Twitter under the handle @Tim_Kress. His website is timkressfiction.com.