Golden Hill

“A tour de force … alive with tantalising twists and turns … Dazzlingly written.” (The Sunday Times, Novel of the Year)

I’m not optimistic about a re-make of Frasier. The BBC has a better idea; re-run Dad’s Army. I hadn’t seen the early black and white episodes – good stuff but some of the characters are still developing. Frasier, Dad’s Army, Fawlty Towers and Blackadder stand the test of time, as does Sgt. Bilko, an American Dad’s Army. The genre is farce.

The Essex Serpent and The Quincunx are another genre; pastiches of 19th century novels. The latter executed with considerable virtuosity. I have recommended the Q to friends and, so far, it is unread, even by a cousin who read English. Perhaps she’d prefer a pastiche of an 18th century novel?

You don’t need to read every word by Fielding, Richardson and Smollett, fortunately, to enjoy Francis Spufford’s first novel, Golden Hill. There’s something satisfying in reading fiction that attracts on different levels, like a multi-storey car park. There’s the mystery of the plot, the nod to 18th century novels, and social history. It’s brilliant but I’m the boy who cried wolf. The Quincunx deniers won’t even give it a sniff I suppose.

Unexpectedly this is the second first novel – sounds clumsy – I have read consecutively. Paul Micou’s first, The Music Programme, is a romp in the vein of Evelyn Waugh and William Boyd. Now I’m reading “the best 18th century novel since the 18th century”. (Frances Stonor Saunders, BBC Radio 4) “Like a newly discovered novel by Henry Fielding with extra material by Martin Scorsese… superb” (The Times).

Warning: reading can lead to obesity. I have put on three kilos in the last year.