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Derek Raymond
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Full Name and Common Aliases

Edward Brimbell was born on December 5, 1931, in London, England. He is more commonly known by his pen name Derek Raymond, which he used for his writing career.

Birth and Death Dates

Born: December 5, 1931
Died: January 7, 1994 (aged 62)

Nationality and Profession(s)

British writer of crime fiction, particularly known for his Inspector Gadget series under the pseudonym Nick Coleridge.

Early Life and Background

Edward Brimbell was born in London's East End to a middle-class family. He grew up in a culture that valued reading and writing. Brimbell developed an interest in literature at a young age and went on to study English Literature at Queen Mary College, University of London.

After completing his studies, Brimbill worked as an editor for various publishing companies before deciding to pursue a career as a writer himself.

Major Accomplishments

Raymond's writing style was known for its gritty realism and poetic prose. He gained recognition for his crime fiction novels, which often explored the darker aspects of human nature. Some of his notable works include:

The Paper People (1965) - His first novel, which introduced readers to his unique blend of social commentary and literary style.
The Hard Way (1972) - A classic crime fiction novel that solidified Raymond's reputation as a master of the genre.

Notable Works or Actions

Raymond's most notable series is probably the Inspector Gadget series, written under the pseudonym Nick Coleridge. However, it was his work under the name Derek Raymond that earned him critical acclaim and recognition within the literary world.

His writing often explored themes of social justice, morality, and the human condition. Raymond's unique blend of poetic language and gritty realism captivated readers and critics alike.

Impact and Legacy

Derek Raymond's impact on crime fiction is undeniable. His work paved the way for future generations of writers who sought to explore the darker aspects of human nature through their writing.

His influence can be seen in authors such as Dennis Lehane, George Pelecanos, and Laura Lippman, among others. Raymond's legacy extends beyond his own writing, inspiring a new wave of crime fiction that continues to captivate readers today.

Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered

Derek Raymond is widely quoted and remembered for his thought-provoking and often unsettling stories. His unique blend of poetic language and gritty realism has left a lasting impact on the literary world.

Raymond's exploration of themes such as morality, social justice, and human nature continues to resonate with readers today. His writing remains a testament to the power of literature in exploring the complexities of the human experience.

His legacy serves as a reminder that crime fiction can be both entertaining and thought-provoking, capable of captivating audiences while also challenging them to confront the darker aspects of their own world.

Quotes by Derek Raymond

It’s wearying, like Caliban buttonholing you in hell and telling you the struggle he’s having getting along with himself.
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It’s wearying, like Caliban buttonholing you in hell and telling you the struggle he’s having getting along with himself.
I have taken a terrible beating from the truth and feel tamed, wise and desperate, as if I had taken a short route to wisdom through a mirror, and cut myself badly on it as I passed through.
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I have taken a terrible beating from the truth and feel tamed, wise and desperate, as if I had taken a short route to wisdom through a mirror, and cut myself badly on it as I passed through.
I became as hard as whipcord, but with a brain like cottonwool.
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I became as hard as whipcord, but with a brain like cottonwool.
Every day you amass knowledge in a frantic race against death that death must win. You want to find out everything in the time you have; yet in the end you wonder why you bothered, it’ll all be lost. I keep trying to explain this to anyone who will listen.
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Every day you amass knowledge in a frantic race against death that death must win. You want to find out everything in the time you have; yet in the end you wonder why you bothered, it’ll all be lost. I keep trying to explain this to anyone who will listen.
I knocked at a second-floor flat in a dreary house, one of two hundred in a dreary Catford street.
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I knocked at a second-floor flat in a dreary house, one of two hundred in a dreary Catford street.
I studied him and realized that madness is the last defence of the mind when it can't hope to reconcile itself with events; I too was standing between routine and the unknowable.
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I studied him and realized that madness is the last defence of the mind when it can't hope to reconcile itself with events; I too was standing between routine and the unknowable.
She doesn’t think she’s worthy to live. But she doesn’t realize, she is life.
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She doesn’t think she’s worthy to live. But she doesn’t realize, she is life.
A quick butchers shows up Old Bill three-handed, also a particularly nasty female grass–-and if looks were acid baths the two she collects from us would reduce her to gristle quicker than Mrs. Durand-Deacon.
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A quick butchers shows up Old Bill three-handed, also a particularly nasty female grass–-and if looks were acid baths the two she collects from us would reduce her to gristle quicker than Mrs. Durand-Deacon.
It seems to me that no matter whether you marry, settle down or live with a bird or not, certain ones simply have your number on them, like bombs in the war; and even if you don’t happen to like them all that much there’s nothing you can do about it — unless you’re prepared to spend a lifetime arguing fate out of existence, which you could probably do if you tried but I’m not the type.—Crust on Its Uppers, p. 87
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It seems to me that no matter whether you marry, settle down or live with a bird or not, certain ones simply have your number on them, like bombs in the war; and even if you don’t happen to like them all that much there’s nothing you can do about it — unless you’re prepared to spend a lifetime arguing fate out of existence, which you could probably do if you tried but I’m not the type.—Crust on Its Uppers, p. 87
You Englishmen,’ said Herr Wurter. ‘You are all the same. Wherever you are you behave as if you were at home and your word was law.
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You Englishmen,’ said Herr Wurter. ‘You are all the same. Wherever you are you behave as if you were at home and your word was law.
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