Winner of the UK Writers' Guild Award for Best Fiction Book 2011.

Winner of the Goldberg Prize 2012.

Shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award 2010.

Shortlisted for the Desmond Elliott Prize 2011.

Some reviews of Boxer, Beetle:

UK

"Astonishingly assured... confident, droll... well observed... funny, touching... real flair and invention... Many first novels are judged promising. Boxer, Beetle arrives fully formed: original, exhilarating and hugely enjoyable." - Peter Parker, Sunday Times

"Wildly subversive" - Godfrey Smith, Sunday Times

"Gripping and clever... taut, thematically rich and extremely well written... It's clear from this compelling debut that Beauman can perform the complicated paradoxical trick required of the best 21st-century realist novelists: to take an old and predictable structure and allow it to produce new and unpredictable connections." - Scarlett Thomas, The Guardian

"Dazzling." - Claire Armitstead, The Guardian"

Prodigiously clever and energetically entertaining." - Adam Foulds, The Guardian

"Exuberantly clever and ingenious... energetic... witty." - Isobel Montgomery, The Guardian

"Staggeringly energetic intellectual slapstick... crammed with strange, funny and interesting things." - Sam Leith, The Guardian

"Riotous." - Justine Jordan, The Guardian

"Exuberant... wild originality... terrific." - The Times

"Dazzling... impressive... exhilarating... a fine debut: clever, inventive, intelligently structured... an enjoyable, high-octane read." - Rob Sharp, Independent on Sunday

"Frighteningly assured." - Katy Guest, Independent on Sunday

"Probably the most politically incorrect novel of the decade - as well as the funniest... monstrous misfits with ugly motives are beautifully rendered in a novel where Beauman’s scrupulous research is deftly threaded through serious themes in a laugh-out-loud-on-the-train history lesson." - Sunday Telegraph"

A debut with the whiff of a cult classic... ferociously imaginative... his killer irony evokes early Evelyn Waugh... this is humour that goes beyond black, careening off into regions of darkness to deliver the funniest new book I've read in a year or two." - Peter Carty, The Independent

"Uproarious." - Boyd Tonkin, The Independent


"A rambunctious, deftly plotted delight of a debut." - The Observer

"Very funny... ambitious and energetic." - The Daily Telegraph

"An assured debut... Beauman writes with wit and verve." - Carl Wilkinson, The Financial Times

"Clever... an enjoyable confection: witty, ludicrous and entertaining." – James Urquhart, The Financial Times

"A real knockout... dazzling... one of the best novels of the year... ingeniously constructed and utterly readable." - Leo Robson, The Daily Express

"Intelligent... impressive... this would be a brilliant debut from anyone, regardless of their age. As it is, I can only gape in admiration at a new writing force and wonder what he's going to produce next." - The Daily Mail

"Dazzling... compellingly tragic... darkly funny... an utterly unique work that marks the London-based author out as an exciting new voice in fiction." - The List (Edinburgh)

"Witty, erudite... articulate and original... often gobsmackingly smutty." - Time Out

"Fantastically precocious... a witty, fascinating, romping read." - Word

"Dizzying." - The Big Issue

"Very funny." – Times Literary Supplement

"Curiously entertaining... Ned Beauman's debut novel Boxer, Beetle has got everyone talking." - Evening Standard

"Confident and accomplished... Beauman writes like a dream." - Camden New Journal

"Startlingly original and written with compelling energy." – Edward Stourton, chair of the Desmond Elliott Prize judges

Named as one of the ten most promising UK debuts by The Culture Show 2011.

Australia

"Boxer, Beetle is driven by a rapacious and addictive hilarity... brilliant... Beauman's writing is as elegant and sharp as the narrative is wild." - The Age (Melbourne)

US

"A premise as wonderfully outlandish as any we’ve seen in a long while... oddball and rambunctious... funny, raw and stylish." – The New York Times

Pick of the week, starred review. "An ebullient and thrilling narrative... Irreverent, profane and very funny. Best of all, he writes prose that... has the power to startle, no small feat in a debut." - Publisher's Weekly

Starred review. "A bizarre and funny mystery that is filled with eccentric scholarship." - Booklist

"The story wonderfully mocks eugenics and fascism, while the writing bursts with imaginative metaphors... Quirky, comical, brilliant." - Kirkus Reviews

"A romp across the decades, with quirky characters and a complex, darkly humorous story." - Library Journal

"Amusing and rampageous." – NPR

Boxer, Beetle now has an awesome Hollywood-type teaser website, designed by the unbelievably capable Dan Rees-Jones, where you can read the characters' letters, medical records, deleted emails etc. Meanwhile, the book isn't officially out until Thursday, but it's pretty easy to purchase right now: if you're in London there are copies in (for instance) Lutyens & Rubinstein and Pages of Hackney, or otherwise Amazon.co.uk and Play.com are already posting it out.

I've uploaded the bibliography for Boxer, Beetle. I did nearly all my research in the London Library, without which the book couldn't possibly have been written; but I should also mention here the writer James Sturz, who was generous enough to invite me to his apartment in New York to look through his old notes for his 1993 New York Times article on the Nazi memorabilia trade.

"During the Gay Nineties, Europe sent us beef and brawn to tamp railroad ties on our section gangs. Since the World War, she has sent us brains and culture – to be filtered into American life through the crude screens of Hollywood studios. There are more than four thousand White Russians hanging around Hollywood – Cossack generals running cafés... chief of staff of a great Russian fleet baiting his hooks from a San Pedro fish boat... art critics who were known the length and breadth of Europe fussing with the decorations on studio sets – the architect who built the German government buildings in the Camaroons, designing gangster dives... barons, grand dukes, counts who have commanded Imperial boy-guards taking orders from assistant directors who were corporals.

Europe has sent us also a ragged fringe – fakers, slickers, imposters. A war correspondent of some celebrity who had invaded royal palaces to sit with kings said that the only potentate who really over-awed him was a Cincinnati tailor masquerading as a Romanoff, bumming free board at hotels. Meanwhile, the Austrian grand duke who was real was sleeping on the sand at Santa Monica with his devoted and unpaid valet – starving until he found a way to get one square meal a day by his promise not to expose the 'Commander of His Imperial Majesty's Household Troops, Sir,' as a servant in an officers' mess."

from Los Angeles: City of Dreams (1935) by Harry Carr

"Gilke's relentless sense of integrity could at times be excessive. PG Wodehouse, who left Dulwich [College] in the year of [Raymond] Chandler's arrival, remembered the Master as the sort of man who would approach him after a good cricket performance and say 'Fine innings, Wodehouse, but remember we all die in the end.'"

from Raymond Chandler by Tom Hiney. Also:

"There would be an intense blackout scene involving amnesia and usually alcohol in every one of Chandler's Marlowe novels, as well as in one of his Hollywood screenplays. In fact, the blackout scene became a distinct trademark of Marlowe's adventures. These scenes were given such prominence and space throughout Chandler's writing that they beg at least two clear biographical correlations. First the German bombardment that left Chandler unconscious during the First World War and ended his infrantry career. Second, the blackouts that he experienced when he drank heavily; specifically, the sustained binge he embarked on at Dabney's.

There are of course other, less subtextual, reasons why Chandler may have detailed so many blackouts. Like other serial heroes, Marlowe must fight villains, but he can never die. One way in which his survival could retain any sort of credibility is for him to receive regular non-fatal blows. That said, few action writers can ever have given the head injury so much attention, or lavished upon it as much imagery, as did Chandler."

In his book The Dream Endures, Kevin Starr mentions a San Francisco chef called Tao Yuen who "had been trained before the Revolution at the Imperial School of Cookery in Peking where the textbook was the 753-volume, three-million-page Imperial Encyclopedia of National Cookery." I can't find any other reference to this entity, but there's something a bit Borgesian about a cookbook so demonically comprehensive that you'd starve to death long before you even got to the end of the marinades – "The Book of Sand" in particular comes to mind, plus, as ever, "The Library of Babel". Scattered through the Encyclopedia, presumably, are recipes that have not yet been read for dishes that have not yet been invented using ingredients that have not yet been discovered. Talking of Borges, it's good to see Christopher Nolan confirm in this interview that one inspiration for his breathtakingly enjoyable Inception was "The Secret Miracle", which I was reminded of often during the film.

There's a page on me and my book in this month's Dazed & Confused. Meanwhile, the first finished copies have just arrived.

"Most notoriously, on March 13, 1919, a letter purporting to be from the [New Orleans] Axeman was published in the newspapers saying that he would kill again at 15 minutes past midnight on the night of March 19, but would spare the occupants of any place where a jazz band was playing. That night all of New Orleans's dance halls were filled to capacity, and professional and amateur bands played jazz at parties at hundreds of houses around town. There were no murders that night."

The fifth president of the University of South California was Rufus Bernhard von KleinSmid – a rare and excellent example of the internally capitalised surname.

Joseph Barcroft researching chemical weapons at Porton Down:

"On one occasion, one of his female assistants travelled by train from his laboratory in Cambridge carrying a canister of poison gas. The canister began to leak in the compartment. She attached it to a piece of string, hung it out of the window and completed her journey to Porton."

Stanley Lovell researching bombs at the Office of Strategic Services:

"Cats, it was suggested to the OSS, always land on their feet, and will go to any lengths to avoid water. Why not wire a cat up to a bomb, and sling both cat and attached high explosive below to a bomber? When flying over enemy sips, the explosive cat would be released. The cat would be so concerned to avoid landing int he water that it could, it was argued, be virtually certain of guiding the bomb onto the deck of enemy warships. Exerpiments with flying cats soon proved to the supporters of the project that even unattached to high explosive, the cat was likely to become unconscious long before Nazi decks seemed an attractive landing place."

both from A Higher Form of Killing by Robert Harris and Jeremy Paxman

I was on the Guardian Books Podcast this week talking about comics with Sarah Crown and Rachel Cooke.

"When you live in a place that you know could be destroyed at any time, it changes the way you think."

In May I flew to New Orleans to interview The Dead Weather (Jack White, Alison Mosshart etc.), and the resulting article is in this month's Dazed & Confused, which has MIA on the cover.

Another German interview with me put through Google Translate. I'm described as "the wildest debut of the season", which makes me sound a bit like the flighty daughter of some 1920s aristocrats. Also, here and here are podcasts talking about the book. No idea whether they like it or not.

From a paper by Professor Philip Morrison, given at the Communication With Extraterrestrial Intelligence Conference in 1973, about the possible conquences of receiving a message from an alien civilisation:

"A message channel cannot open us to the sort of impact which we have often seen in history once contact is opened between two societies at very different levels of advance. There will be absent across space, of course, any military dominance, whether as in Mexico in the sixteenth century when military dominance from the outside was dependent upon a local alliance, or as in the Canary Islands or in Peru where it was fully external. Nor will there be the thrust of any technical economic competition, like that which induced famine among the highly developed Bengal hand weavers, faced with the machine-made cloth of Manchester. At most, we expose ourselves to the dangers or opportunities faced by the Japanese society on two occasions in its history, once when it encountered the enormously strong culture of the T'ang through a very few persons traveling; or in the nineteenth century when the Japanese system changed entirely after what was only a threatened invasion, but a threat which brought out internal strains that were very deep in Japanese society. So I am confident that on this kind of model, which seems to me very plausible, we could imagine the signal to have great impact - but slowly and soberly mediated, transmitted through all those filter devices of scholars who have to interpret and publish a book, and so forth. Note that the total gloss on Greek thought is at least as voluminous as the Greek texts themselves!"