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For those who don’t know him, Ken Bruen’s a brilliant, lyrical crime novelist who I first came to know during my first Edgar Award ceremony back in 2004. Both of us having lost, we obviously chose to drink ourselves senseless in Manhattan. As everyone else gradually disappeared, heading off to their hotel rooms, the two of us survived until four in the morning, talking nonstop. A wonderfully self-abusive night I’ll not soon forget. (Hat-tip to Seth Marko on this.)

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