He was born in West Yorkshire, studied in Manchester, traveled abroad and ended up in Tokyo where he still lives with his family. He can jump from crime stories and noir atmospheres to books dealing with the importance of football (soccer) in local communities. He loves listening to music and confesses that the option of “bad poetry” is always open. David Peace can walk it like he talks it. But can he kick it as well? We are about to find out.
One of the most popular crime fiction writers in Greece, Ian Rankin, has stated that you are “UK’s answer to James Ellroy” and you have never been shy of your admiration toward the Demon Dog of crime fiction. Would you agree with these comparisons? Do you consider it a compliment? And, does that mean that you storm out of interviews, hang up the phone when annoyed by a question, and leave journalists in distress?
I am always very grateful to journalists who are interested enough in my work to want to interview me, but so far, touch wood, I have also been fortunate that journalists do not try to provoke me in the way that some journalists like to do with Mr Ellroy, particularly in France, for example. I have also been fortunate enough to spend time with Mr Ellroy in a private capacity, and I would stress he is quite different “offstage.” But yes, particularly when writing the “Red Riding Quartet, his work was a great influence; firstly, with his original LA Quartet, he was writing about the time and place he grow up in, which inspired me to think more deeply about the time and place I had grown up in; secondly, stylistically, the work he was doing in a book like “White Jazz” was very innovative, pushing the boundaries of what crime fiction can be, and this again was hugely inspiring. But regardless of genre, Mr Ellroy is one of the great American writers of our time, and so I am always flattered by any comparison.
The Red Riding Quartet was dubbed “Yorkshire noir” or even “Dewsbury noir” by some critics. There is of course the Tokyo Trilogy, that has many noir elements as well. Do you think that if you had specialized only in crime stories, you might have become more easily marketed, therefore more successful among readers who prefer that kind of books?
As I have said in the past, my books are too literary for a crime audience and too crimey for a literary audience. Publishing seems to prefer genre fiction generally, but aside from in Japan and Germany, my “football books” have been my bestselling books, with “The Damned United” easily my most successful novel in terms of sales. But honestly speaking, I don’t write with agents or sales in mind; I write the books that “I have” to write, and sometimes this works out well financially, and sometimes it doesn’t. But who can predict, so that’s why I only write what “I have” to write.
You are known as a painstaking researcher (“If I say it rained in Tokyo on a particular day in 1950, then it did.”) I imagine this would demand extra effort to finish any book – do you get annoyed, as a reader, when you may like one writer’s story, but you meet inaccuracies and mistaken references?
Yes, such errors are annoying to me as a reader because it shows that the writer doesn’t care enough about their own work to check. And if the writer doesn’t care about their work, then why should the reader?
When you are writing about true stories and real events, you cannot but use the original names of some of the people who were there at the time. In some cases, someone may get annoyed, someone may threaten to put charges against the publication, someone may say “it didn’t happen that way” etc. Does this trouble you or even affect the way you write?
Well, after the publication of The “Damned United,” I was sued by a certain former footballer, unjustly in my opinion because whenever “real people” appear or speak in my novels, their actions and words are based entirely on already published nonfiction books or newspaper articles; so I am simply dramatizing the public record. But I would never consciously try to create an inaccurate fictional portrayal of a real-life person; I see what I do as akin to a painter who is painting a portrait as opposed to, say, the nonfiction of photography, and so I want my painting, my portrait to be as truthful and illuminating as possible.
“The Damned United” (2006) deals with football in 1974; “Red or Dead” (2013) deals with football in 1959-1974; and, most recently, “Munichs” deals with football in the late 50s. Football remains extremely popular in the UK but is it as important as it used to be, socially wise? Would you ever consider writing about football in the 21st century? Are there aspects in today’s game that still trigger you?
Football remains an integral part of British culture, deeply embedded in its society and its politics, subject to the same conflicts and divisions. But, of course, that culture, society and politics is very, very different from the 1950s, 60s, 70s or even 80s. But football is always a mirror of its times, and what fascinates me about football, what keeps me writing about it, is this relationship football has with wider society, and what that relationship then reflects, and I hope I can then use football in fiction as a way to try to tell an alternate history of Britain, but using that history to also reflect on the present.
So, in many ways, although I am writing about the past, I am also writing about the present, asking in “Munichs,” for example, where is the community that once existed in 1958 now? How did we get from there to here?
UK football culture is rather unique. You support a rather “small” club, Huddersfield Town. The club was founded 117 years ago, crowned champions in the 1920s and currently competes in the third tier of English league, six years after their last appearance at the Premier League. English fans’ dedication to their town club has little to do with trophies, fancy transfers and European competitions. Do you still support Huddersfield Town A.F.C.?
Yes, I still support Huddersfield Town, and I always will; my grandfather supported them, my father supported them, and so I never ever considered supporting anyone else, and in those days, when I first starting going to games with my father, when I was 6 or 7 years old, I didn’t think I could support anyone else, even if I had wanted. Financial debts, some wrong choices, relegations, North American funds taking over … Presently, they are not doing very well, but for most of my life they have not been doing very well. However, I never ever thought I would see them in the Premier League, but I did, and so I live in hope that we will at least return to the Championship [the second tier] soon, and that one day, who knows, we may yet play in Europe.
On the last page of “Munichs” you explain that one of the reasons you detest modern football is certain club fans who use abusive references for their opponents. What else keeps you away from enjoying the sport these days?
Where to start? But perhaps the single biggest reason for me is the disconnection between the bigger clubs and the communities around their stadiums; the fact that most children growing up within a couple of miles of Old Trafford or Anfield will never be able to afford to see Manchester United or Liverpool with their own eyes, only on television. That’s wrong.
“The Damned United,” The Red Riding Trilogy: How does a writer feel when they learn that the rights of their works have been bought to become movies/feature-length television episodes? Were you satisfied by the results on screen? And, in case you had an objection, did you have the right to interfere?
I was very pleased and extremely fortunate that four of my books were adapted for film and television; I think Tony Grisoni, the scriptwriter on the three “Red Riding” films, did a brilliant job, and that the first film “[Red Riding] 1974” is better than the book! All three RR films are great, with such a strong cast, too. “The Damned United” was a different experience, slightly tied up in the legal issues I mentioned earlier, and so I think the producers were keen to distance themselves from me, and the film is a lot less “gritty” than the novel, more of a comedy in places. But Michael Sheen is brilliant as Clough, and I remain very grateful for the success of the film and the new readers it brought to my other books; it is also my son’s favorite film, too.
When still a student at the polytechnic, you had written your first novel. As a successful writer, 40 years later, after being rejected by almost all publishers, you have stated that, “publishers should be less risk averse.” Are there still visionary publishers out there that would publish a book just because of its artistic value and not its commercial potential?
I was rejected by every publisher and every agent I contacted, and was told by one publisher not to send anything ever again. And I was so depressed, and so broke financially, that I moved first to Istanbul, and then to Tokyo, in order to get away from England. But I think it is much, much harder now to get published than it was in the late 1990s, when I finally found a publisher and an agent. But at least, back then, the publishers would read unsolicited manuscripts. Now that is rarely the case, and I think it is particularly difficult for writers from working-class, low-income backgrounds, who cannot afford to attend creative writing courses, which often provide contacts with agents and publishers in the UK who, otherwise, usually don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts from unpublished writers. But fortunately, yes, there are still vital independent publishers who, ironically, given they have much more to lose, will take risks on new voices and translated fiction, unlike the conglomerates.
At 27 years old, in 1994, you moved to Tokyo to teach English. How long did it take you to feel at home there? Did you manage to master the language?
I lived in Tokyo from 1994 until 2009, when I then [temporarily] moved back to the UK, but immediately I realized that Tokyo was actually home, and so I moved back to Tokyo in 2011 and I have been here ever since. I can speak Japanese, but not as well as I should, and I wish I knew more kanji and so I could read more. Of course, I miss my family and friends in England, and I also miss the weather, and the light. But when I did leave Tokyo, I missed the routine I have here, the discipline that distance and isolation brings.
You used to write lyrics and sing in a band that “sounded like a cross between the Fall and the Birthday Party.” If you would do something like that today, what would your new band sound like? Furthermore, what music do you listen to, when you are writing?
Fundamentally, I don’t think 58-year-old men should play in bands, unless they sound and look as good as Nick Cave still does. But when I write, I tend to use music as a key to help me get back to the time and place that I am writing about so, for example, when I was writing “1974,” I was listening to music from only that year or the year before, especially, and almost constantly, “Diamond Dogs.” But in case anyone is remotely interested, the best album I’ve heard all 2025 long is “Golliwog” by Billy Woods.
In a past interview you have admitted you couldn’t overstate the education you got from reading the NME [New Music Express] between 1979 and 1985. “A review of the Birthday Party would be talking about Dostoevsky; Mark E Smith, Nick Cave, Coil and Morrissey all talked about books, painting, other forms of music, and I just absorbed it all,” you said. Do you miss the days when music itself, listening to music and reading about it was really important? As a parent, do you think that your kids will miss this attachment to music and only use it as something that’s just in the background?
Yes, I do miss those days, but it wasn’t only the music; the films and comic books of that time [those by Alan Moore, Frank Miller, Keith Giffen etc] were also vital parts of a culture that always seemed to be evolving, exciting and urgent, and most of all inspiring. And I think the reason that the deaths of David Bowie, Mark Smith, and David Lynch hurt so much is because we have lost artists who were always evolving and challenging in ways that are now very rare. However, given the shitty world we have bequeathed to younger generations, I think 58-year-old men should not pass judgment on youth. But on a personal note, my daughter’s interest in K-pop has only been a good thing; it inspired her to study another language and culture, and provided her with a community of other fans who became friends, and thus gave her a sense of belonging, and I think that is a lot more healthy than my own teenage obsession with Ian Curtis and Joy Division.
In the last decade, there has been a commercial rise of nonfiction books: biographies, politics, history, self-help etc. Some even say that fiction cannot be as popular. On the other hand, you have stated that if novels are going to survive, novelists have a responsibility to push the boundaries. If you had to bet, commercially speaking, what would you place your money on?
Well, I think all books are in a battle to survive, fiction or nonfiction, because they are all competing against ever more distractions, almost all of it online: streaming services and games, social media etc. But in terms of traditional, printed matter, nonfiction often seems more able to move quicker and thus be more relevant, so the outlook for fiction can often appear bleak. However, if we look at the billions of views that Chinese web novels get, or the hundreds of thousands of people who read and write for English language fan-fiction sites, or the way in which fiction and manga are consumed on phones in Japan, then it’s clear that our appetite for fiction is still there, and so if we are prepared to push the boundaries of fiction, both in content, presentation and delivery, then the future for fiction can be bright.
At one point, you have joked that you intend to stop writing novels after your 12th book – let’s hope this won’t be true. So, what would be next? And what about your notorious “collection of very bad poetry?”
Well, I am now trying to write that dreaded “13th book,” which is a followup of sorts to “Munichs,” but it sometimes feels I might have cursed myself, and so if things continue to go slowly, then perhaps it will be time for that collection of very bad poetry.
“Munics,” along with four other novels by David Peace, are being published in Greece by Topos Books (Motivo Publishing).