It's May Bank Holiday in the UK today and I spent much of yesterday welded to the first hundred pages of The Cuckoo Boy, the exciting (well I'm very excited) debut from Grant Gillespie and the first novel to be published by the To Hell With First Novels imprint.
You may recall I sardined into the To Hell With shop in London recently for the David Vann reading and nearly died of fulminating hyperthermia. The national grid took a rest that night and just plugged me in instead.
I'm quite likely to have sat up half the night reading The Cuckoo Boy and doubtless praying I haven't gone out on a limb without checking the strength of the branch because I'll go doolalley (not pretty) if this book goes turkey-shaped, but once I've been to work this morning, I shall be doing a great deal more of the same today.
It's strangely funny but disturbing too and I can't quite decide whether to laugh (I have been) refer Family Gardener in to Social Services and call a Case Conference (it's my job, I probably should) or be very afraid (I'm very nervous) about what I think is about to happen. A fabulous concoction of emotions and observations, lots of nature versus nurture ponderings and a razor-sharp narrative voice to die for, which all adds up to my first truly un-put-downable new novel of the year to date.
I was actually beginning to give up hope.
Any other un-put-downables of the year to report?