The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell was wonderful, combining poignant emotive passages and sweeping grand esoterica into an epic that straddles sixty years of life, love and tragedy. Each time out, Mitchell builds upon his previous work and covers an ambitious range of topics but never forgets to source it all in real emotion and story. It is grounded in the ordinary which is why even as it ascends into transdimensional holy war, that it never becomes entirely ridiculous. It’s one of my favourite books this year and one that warrants reading and rereading.
Damned by Chuck Palahniuk
There’s a gossipy, campy tone, some strongly imaginative passages and an ironic twist to proceedings but it’s all surface and no depth. It’s a velvet painting of a book, no bad thing but I had forgotten it as soon as I had finished it. Shame, really but he reaches for something that reads like YA written for satanists in a bleached teeth falsetto. A FM radio hit with subliminal messages telling you to burn things.