Fiction: The attractions of a gangster narrative are countless. In many ways, it is a shadowy reflection of our humdrum world, a distorted, askew version of the mundanity and ordinariness of our lives.
Life can be presented as lived in the extreme: all emotions are experienced at a higher pitch and all actions have consequences beyond the merely obvious. There are no ethical boundaries in the criminal world: anything can happen, and it frequently does. Of course, for readers, it is all wonderfully vicarious, ultimately upholding, rather than dismantling, our sense of what is right and wrong.
It is such a world that Gene Kerrigan brilliantly conjures up in his debut novel, Little Criminals. Kerrigan is maybe better known to readers as one of the great journalists of his generation. His work for the Sunday Tribune and Magill magazine displayed a rigorous regard for microscopic detail and, certainly, a pioneering desire for justice in a world seemingly devoid of it.
The basic premise of Little Criminals is straightforward enough: a gang kidnaps a well-to-do solicitor's wife in the hope of making a quick million euro. There are, as to be expected, numerous twists and turns in the plot.
No crime caper is ever without the unanticipated coming to pass, and there is enough action here to keep readers interested and on their toes.
The method employed by Kerrigan is to view the events from the varying perspectives of those involved. He captures very well the fear of the victim and the often brutal violence of the kidnap gang, who act, at times, seemingly without motivation.
Such acts of horrific violence periodically punctuate the narrative just as the reader might be beginning to empathise with the gang, dispelling any notions that these men operate with any moral code other than their own.
Kerrigan manages to take the basic plot and wed it to a cast of highly believable characters, from gang leader Frankie Crowe, a small-time crook who has ambitions to make it in the big time, to Det Insp John Grace, a little tired and somewhat cynical but nonetheless focused on the job. Thus the action, witnessed from numerous perspectives, is coloured with each character's viewpoint, displaying the nuances of their various traits and tics. Frankie, for instance, is full of unexpected motivational language and aspirations, believing his desire to better himself is typical of what it is to be a Celtic Cub.
Certainly, one of the minor achievements of this novel is its depiction of contemporary Irish life. Kerrigan pinpoints skilfully the subtleties of class distinction, acknowledging that it is not just place that divides people, but attitudes. One of the more startling aspects of the novel is how alive it is to the different codes and expectations different sections of society have in modern Ireland.
The world of Justin Kennedy, the kidnap victim's husband, is one of hard work and serious play. He is allowed by his wife to have his mistress: it is what is expected and is an indication of his status.
In his efforts to raise the cash for the ransom, Justin is helped by one of the super-rich of which Ireland has many. It is a telling moment when Justin has time to think that, despite all that is happening, such an offer of aid means he has moved up a notch in the monied world.
While Kerrigan demonstrates how far apart the "haves" and "have-nots" actually are, there is a sense, too, in which there is much to connect and bond these characters who seem to be on opposite ends of the social spectrum. The desire for wealth and success and all the material trappings that such success brings is what drives all of them on. There is ironic humour here also, as we notice how all the characters appreciate a good latte and panini.
For a debut novel, this is an assured, confident piece of writing. Kerrigan paces the narrative well, offering full and rounded characters that are utterly credible.
The introduction of two characters at the end of the narrative, which offers a nice twist in the tale, reveals, I think, that the author is quite capable of writing stories beyond the confines of this ultimately limiting genre. Nonetheless, this is without doubt a superior crime fiction to be enjoyed.
Derek Hand is a lecturer in English at St Patrick's College, Drumcondra. His book, John Banville: Exploring Fictions, is published by Liffey Press. He is currently writing A History of the Irish Novel for Cambridge University Press
Little Criminals By Gene Kerrigan Vintage, 329pp. £6.99