JAMES D. IRWIN began writing for these pages just before Valentine’s Day, 2009, at the tender age of fifteen nineteen, making him our younger statesman — TNB’s version of Robin Yount, but British.


He is a prolific writer of letters: to Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Matt Damon, Bruce Willis, Jon Bon Jovi, and the editor of Porn Watcher’s Weekly.  To date, none of his would-be correspondents have written back.


Although he is a huge fan of classic rock bands, he is not to be confused with Keith Richards.  He also enjoys sports, especially football (both American and the kind Americans call “soccer“).


He may not feel like a writer, but he’s pretty damned funny, and he makes a good argument that there is such a thing as British cuisine.


Oh, and he is called “Jedi” by certain TNB editors, because his initials are JDI.



Today is the official release date of Totally Killer, my first novel.

That’s what my oh-so-brief bio leads you to believe, anyway. “This is his first novel,” it says, as if I’d suddenly decided, after floundering about for the first thirty-five years of my life, to bang out a book, and a few months later, voilà.

As Hemingway concluded in his first novel, “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”