When written well, though, she sees in the crime genre a powerful framework for boundary breaking fiction: “I think those writers who are really out to break boundaries are interested in crime because it’s a powerful human experience that very often rips away the veneer of civilisation revealing the human anguish beneath, – she explains, – therefore it attracts those writers who want to explore and understand authentic motivations and behaviours. I believe Wittgenstein said something along the lines of you can learn more from a good thriller than you can from any philosophy.”

And yet, Wittgenstein’s thumbs up aside, often detective fiction is placed in a critical ghetto. “I think there’s a mountain of jealous snobbery aimed at ‘crime’ fiction by critics because a lot of the good crime books are brilliantly written [she cites James Lee Burke, as an example of one of America’s finest literary voices] and interesting stories that readers genuinely enjoy and are often moved and stirred by, rather than grindingly dull literary exercises in emotionally-retarded cleverness that choke you quicker than a stale Digestive, sell ten copies and are considered very superior indeed.”

There is very little mystery in Denby’s latest novel, the Orange Prize shortlisted Billie Morgan. At least in terms of a ‘whodunnit’. The heroine, Billie, confesses to her audience, that she is a murderer on the first page. Rather than asking the audience to figure out who has committed the crime, Denby asks what the nature of the crime is. By placing the novel in the first-person, and having Billie admit to the murder of a drug-dealer, Denby skilfully allows the audience to grow in sympathy with the novel’s protagonist. Is it an amoral novel? “I know a few murders who are pretty sympathetic characters and pleasant company, just as I know a number of pillars of the artistic community who are complete wankers and incredibly tedious to hang round with”, responds Denby defiantly.”I don’t write moral tracts or take the moral high ground in my work, – she continues, – as I am more interested in telling the tale in as realistic and beautiful a way as I can. I don’t like being preached at myself so I try not to do it to others. All adults know what is right and what is wrong; the gradations of grey in between those opposites interest me as do how people cope with life and their mistakes and their tragedies. Mostly it’s by humour.”

It’s an unusual novel from a number of perspectives. Firstly it gives us a female murderer, and an unrepentant one at that. Billie never regrets the actual murder, but rather the effect it has on other living characters – a stance shared by her author: “Killing Terry isn’t the worst thing Billie did. Destroying Micky [her husband – who goes to pieces after involvement in the murder] is much worse, in my opinion”. It’s also a novel with a lot of violence, but violence depicted as dull, mundane, accidental and traumatic. “Violence isn’t glam or sexy, -says the author, – it’s dirty, frightening, sickening and repulsive. That’s a fact, as anyone who has ever experienced real violence will attest.”

There’s an interesting passage, where Billie ponders on violence portrayed in films and on TV, and its effects on children. “Billie’s meditation on the nature of media-violence is what many people think and feel in this country and others – anyone that is, who has had the actual experience of violence as opposed to the voyeuristic porno version peddled by silly tossers who, as they say round here, ‘know nowt’, – Joolz explains, continuing with a stance that few writers dare express, – I believe the repeated exposure of children to images, footage and music about this kind of consequence-free violent porno de-sensitises them to the reality of it and leads them into dangerous and sometimes fatal errors of judgement. Any parent who permits their child to view this material at will is lining them up for major life fuck-ups. Harsh? Yes. So be it. Would you care to experiment with your child and see if I’m wrong?”