Framed

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Since turning professional in 1992, O'Sullivan has clocked up an incredible number of awards and trophies, including the UK Championship, the China Open, the Regal Championships, the Benson and Hedges Masters and the British Open.

Unfortunately his little brother is easily led, and this time has landed them both in a whole lot of bother. METRO on RUNNING RUNNING is a chaotic race through O'Sullivan's life, but this does little to dethrone him as the people's champion - it simply adds further to his legend. Starts off gritty, as life in the mean streets of London's SOHO district bring a snooker club owner and a "Family" into tight conflict.We slammed straight into Jack's story head on, introducing the main players as they connected with the story being told. das buch ist in englisch und der wirklich einzige kleine wermutstropfen ist das f-wort das so oft verwendet wird. Ronnie is interested in Buddhism, and was the first celebrity to endorse Jeremy Corbyn at the general election. If Ronnie O'Sullivan wrote like he played snooker, he would be in the same bracket of apparently effortless genius as Ernest Hemingway and Leo Tolstoy; this novel would win the Booker, and the Rocket would be a nailed-on future Nobel laureate.

I love a good crime story with a mystery to solve and I liked the fact that in this story the main character was not the detective investigating or the criminal or even the victim. There was even a reference to him putting on an event and getting some well-known players in, like The Rocket. I am not sure if it was written with screen in mind but, to be honest, it would make for a pretty good translation to that media if the author so desires. THE SUNDAY TIMES on RUNNING Like a lot of shy people, he can look arrogant and aloof when he is performing, while underneath there's turmoil. With an absent mother and a father in jail, it falls on Frankie to try and help prove Jack's innocence.His mother disappeared when he was sixteen; his father’s in jail for armed robbery; and he owes rent on the Soho snooker club he inherited to one of London’s toughest gangsters. Ronnie takes us to 1990s Soho where Frankie James sees his brother Jack arrested for the supposed murder of the fiancée of the son of one of London’s most feared faces. Yes Frankie does become superman at times and I am not 100% that he would be that good at everything he does but I am willing to take one for the team and suck it up in the context of the story.

His life isn’t going that well, and when his younger brother Jack shows up at his door covered in someone else’s blood Frankie’s life gets a lot worse. Ronnie's own life story is fascinating, and as a template for a character, Ronnie himself is a great place to start. I found myself coming back to it and wanting to get through to the next chapter to see what was coming next. One presumes the elder Mr James would have preferred his lawyer end all missives with "fuck off you silly cunt" smeared in human shit, like a normal person. I will at this point just mention that the majority of the negativity that I saw about the book was the amount of swearing.

It stars Frankie James – like Barnes, an author surrogate for O'Sullivan himself – a smart, capable guy from a colourful background, who is jostled from his day job running a snooker club so he can investigate a murder for which his hapless younger brother has been implicated. Maybe it's the my own minded romance of London gangs in the 90's that kept me hooked but if you want something a little different, or to get you thinking back a little with a good story then add this to your collection. Frankie was a likeable character and I enjoyed following him across London as he attempted to work out what happened and how his brother turned up on his doorstep covered in blood.

But in the dog-eat-dog underworld of 1990s Soho, is he tough enough, and smart enough to come out on top?It lacks the grit of an early Martina novel but contains the characterisation and storylines that I feel Mandasue does so brilliantly with her true to life stories set in Manchester. Be advised though that there is a lot of bad language, but for me this made the story more gritty and real. I should be clear, I use ivory tower here in the metaphorical sense, since my home within the newly built Steve Bruce Literary Archive is more accurately a 4,000 acre, chrome-plated, Jaguar-themed ashram filled with pie vans. Criticisms, given this is a first effort I don’t want to appear to harsh so reasons for lost star is clumpy dialogue, this can be worked on and I’m sure we’ll see an improvement in the future and secondly some typos. It's like that bloke in the pub who is always at the bar decides to spin the longest most ludicrous yarn going.