The Late Hector Kipling, David Thewlis. Simon & Schuster, 2007.

If you like black comedy, copious amounts of bodily fluids, and the British modern art scene, this novel is for you. Alas, I don't. (Well, actually the art scene business was rather snarky and fun. I just don't know enough of the local players to get the most out of it, I'm afraid.)

There's a good writer in Thewlis, and some of his turns of phrase were very nicely done. I especially liked this.

Outside it's starting to rain again. There's a pigeon on the ledge looking at me through the window like he's seen me somewhere before and he's trying to remember my name.

Exactly. Don't they just. Kipling's relationship with his parents back in Blackpool (Thewlis' hometown) was also well-done. Just thought the whole thing went out of hand somewhere, but that's probably that black comedy thing that I don't do so well. :(

HP fen - no slash, alas