Didn't camp, but the campsite was splendidly far away from everything, given it's just round the back of Bath.
Formulated a theory about why they're called kebabs here and gyros in septic-land, posed around in a cloak, drank beer and talked shite. All very satisfactory indeed.
Generally, when I've been reading a comic graphic novel, I feel like
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Have you read alexdecampi's fantastic "Smoke" trilogy? It is several shades of awesome, and would be right up your darkened alley. Perhaps.
Post-Chandler: Auster. NYC*3 doubleplusgood.
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Hm. Part of the attraction of Chandler is the feel of 30s/40s LA. I guess James Ellroy would be the next most obvious move, but who can say?
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There was a thingy in Deadline some years ago, about a bloke on the top deck of a Sheffield bus who was staring out across the pleasant and sunlit moors and remarking upon same. Whereupon the scenery fell down to reveal a grim and rain-swept factory landscape. The pensioner in front of him turns round and goes "Children, small dogs and absolute concepts of reality'll allus make a liar of you, pet."
Which, yes.
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