Where I am now doesn’t really matter. What matters is how I got here. How we, how me and Seán, saw that girl getting killed and all the stuff that happened after. And all the stuff that happened before. I saw her getting killed – I know I saw. Seán and me grew up in a town the rest of the world has closed its eyes to. The town we grew up in is a cartoon. A cartoon where we’re the butt of every joke, the cloud of dust at the end of every falling anvil. Seán wasn’t like the rest of us. Seán isn’t like anyone. Seán does stuff to things, things like cats and dogs and guinea pigs. Bad stuff; he can’t help it. Dead dogs and a murder. This is how I got here. I saw it happen. I really, really saw it. Dead Dogs is a novel like no other – odd, witty and darkly hilarious, full of pathos and suspense from the beginning to its taut and throttling crescendo. This is a genre-bending achievement by one of Ireland’s most talented and original voices.
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