Having survived an explosive assassination attempt, Italian police detective Aurelio Zen finds himself convalescing at a Tuscan seaside resort town, where he is under orders to lie low until he is to testify at a much-anticipated Mafia trial. The quiet—and the boredom are relieved by the pleasant distraction of the beautiful Gemma, but just when he feels he is getting somewhere with her, a the discovery of corpse in his usual lounge chair brings his holiday to an abrupt end. Convinced that the Mafia has finally located him, the police put Zen on the move again, in startling directions.
And Then You Die, Michael Dibdin’s latest installment in the Aurelio Zen series, is a wicked, twisting tale that pits Zen against invisible assassins and the possibility of forced retirement. As the plot unfolds, and Zen ponders his uncertain future, bodies are stacking up around him. And Then You Die is another exceptionally surprising, consistently funny triumph from a master of the genre.
About the Author
Born in England, Michael Dibdin attended schools in Scotland and Ireland, and after earning a B.A. at the University of Sussex went on to complete an M.A. in English Literature at the University of Alberta. He then spent four years in Italy teaching at the University of Perugia. In 1988, Dibdin introduced the Italian cop Aurelio Zen in Ratking, which won the Gold Dagger award in the same year, and in 1994, he won France's Grand Prix de Litterature Policiere for the third novel in the Zen series, Cabal. Dibdin reviews regularly for the "Independent on Sunday" and lives in Seattle with his third wife, Kathrine Beck, also a mystery writer. The Aurelio Zen series is translated into sixteen languages (including Italian).He died in 2007.
"From the Hardcover edition."
“Dibdin has an abundance of gifts: bracing wit, the ability to wring unexpected poignance out of dark comedy, and a gift for striking imagery.” –The Wall Street Journal
“And Then You Die will leave readers with a sly smile and a new appreciation for Dibdin’s versatility. . . . If you haven’t made Aurelio’s acquaintance, this is a great chance to dip your toe in the water.” –Rocky Mountain News
“[And Then You Die] has an abundance of food, wit and action, with enough mistaken victims falling dead around Zen to put him up there with Peter Sellers in his Pink Panther days.” –Chicago Tribune
“Dibdin is a charming and amusing prose stylist with a subtle but deeply humorous delivery. . . . A charming novel.” –San Jose Mercury News
“This is Dibdin’s eighth Zen novel, and none has been better.” –The Boston Globe
“Dibdin [writes] with his usual arch style of ironic storytelling, offering a graceful tour of Italy’s beachfront pecking order, class tics and age-old pleasures and prejudices.” –Washington Post Book World
“Michael Dibdin’s texture and detail transport the reader to an Italian beach resort, a prison island, [and] a pub-crawl in Iceland. Aurelio Zen’s finely tuned third eye and inner ear infuse this crime story with mysticism.” –Charlotte Observer
“Dibdin has created an interesting alternative to the fast-paced, smart-assed, hard-boiled detective genre. His version is full of hidden half-truths, twisted, smiling, power-hungry authorities, and enough smoke and mirrors to keep you guessing–a modern take on the medieval mystery.” –The Irish Times
“Dibdin is . . . [a] philosopher, methodically and subtly creating a picture of human nature at its most complex yet simplest. . . . The book holds the reader until the end.” –Ashbury Park Press
“A classic mystery that easily captures the true essence of the crime genre.” –The Anniston Star
“Dibdin’s trademark humor and dark wit is in good form. . . . An ingenious, over-the-top twist . . . sets the scene.” –Portsmouth Herald
“The tightly woven style and dark characters echo those of Georges Simenon.” –Toledo Blade
“Dibdin’s Zen novels effortlessly paint a sharper portrait of Italy than any guidebook, cookbook or academic history. . . . And Then You Die is more meditative than the other Zen thrillers, beautifully crafted and evocative, with the perfect balance of plot and rueful digression.” –The Guardian (London)