Product Description
SHORTLISTED FOR THE PAGE TURNER PRIZE 2011
Award-winning author Chris Barraclough's tense thriller is set in the neglected heartland of Broken Britain. An accidental death in a notorious Northern council estate sets in motion a violent uprising, and the innocents caught in the middle must work together to survive.
Crack is a sharp and shocking story that was highly praised by the judges of the Contact Publishing Page Turner Prize. It proved strangely prophetic, completed just months before the 2011 UK riots.
Chris' debut novel Bat Boy won the UK Authors Award 2010 and was published to critical acclaim by UKA Press in Summer 2011 (available in paperback on Amazon). He followed it up with Dead Dogs, a darkly comic Albanian tale, which was longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Reader Award 2010.
INCLUDES BONUS CONTENT:
- Exclusive sneak peek at Bat Boy, Chris' award-winning debut novel
- Meet the Author
- 'Getting published for realsies' article
- 'The Making of Crack' link
EXCERPT:
The windscreen fractured, his face pricked by fragments which leapt from the surface and sliced into his skin. A scream died somewhere deep in his throat. With eyes squeezed shut, he slammed his foot on the brake. Agony ripped through his muscle, crippling him from thigh to toe. His body jerked forward as the car shuddered and shook, until the belt snapped across his chest and brought him to a breathless halt, just half an inch from the steering column.
Before he knew what had happened, he was crushed back into his seat. The world was silent again.
Pang’s fingers were bleach-white, still wrapped around the top of the wheel. Every breath was agony. His ribs shifted in unnatural ways and his skull was vibrating, like someone had sideswiped him. His eyes remained shut. Aside from a tender hiss, the only sound he heard was approaching footsteps. Several sets, all running - and now voices across to his side. They were warped somehow, almost monstrous.
Devils come to take me away.
He forced his eyes open and stared at the remains of the glass. For now it held firm, but in total ruins. The point of impact was to his left, directly level with his eye-line. Something solid, probably the size of a bowling ball, had struck it at a terrific pace. Pointed cracks spread from the centre, thick and jagged at first, then thinning out like veins.
“What happened?”
His own voice sounded distant, as if someone outside had mumbled his words for him. Through the cobwebbed cracks, Pang made out black and white shapes that danced before his car. More voices. He heard them clear enough now the ringing had subsided...
Award-winning author Chris Barraclough's tense thriller is set in the neglected heartland of Broken Britain. An accidental death in a notorious Northern council estate sets in motion a violent uprising, and the innocents caught in the middle must work together to survive.
Crack is a sharp and shocking story that was highly praised by the judges of the Contact Publishing Page Turner Prize. It proved strangely prophetic, completed just months before the 2011 UK riots.
Chris' debut novel Bat Boy won the UK Authors Award 2010 and was published to critical acclaim by UKA Press in Summer 2011 (available in paperback on Amazon). He followed it up with Dead Dogs, a darkly comic Albanian tale, which was longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Reader Award 2010.
INCLUDES BONUS CONTENT:
- Exclusive sneak peek at Bat Boy, Chris' award-winning debut novel
- Meet the Author
- 'Getting published for realsies' article
- 'The Making of Crack' link
EXCERPT:
The windscreen fractured, his face pricked by fragments which leapt from the surface and sliced into his skin. A scream died somewhere deep in his throat. With eyes squeezed shut, he slammed his foot on the brake. Agony ripped through his muscle, crippling him from thigh to toe. His body jerked forward as the car shuddered and shook, until the belt snapped across his chest and brought him to a breathless halt, just half an inch from the steering column.
Before he knew what had happened, he was crushed back into his seat. The world was silent again.
Pang’s fingers were bleach-white, still wrapped around the top of the wheel. Every breath was agony. His ribs shifted in unnatural ways and his skull was vibrating, like someone had sideswiped him. His eyes remained shut. Aside from a tender hiss, the only sound he heard was approaching footsteps. Several sets, all running - and now voices across to his side. They were warped somehow, almost monstrous.
Devils come to take me away.
He forced his eyes open and stared at the remains of the glass. For now it held firm, but in total ruins. The point of impact was to his left, directly level with his eye-line. Something solid, probably the size of a bowling ball, had struck it at a terrific pace. Pointed cracks spread from the centre, thick and jagged at first, then thinning out like veins.
“What happened?”
His own voice sounded distant, as if someone outside had mumbled his words for him. Through the cobwebbed cracks, Pang made out black and white shapes that danced before his car. More voices. He heard them clear enough now the ringing had subsided...
