The Lying Tongue by Andrew Wilson

The excitement of the graduate, the anticipation of pastures new. Adam Woods, the graduate's robes barely off his shoulders, arrives in Venice and comes to work for the eccentric literary recluse Gordon Crace. Spurred by his own literary ambitions when presented with such an intriguing subject, Adam secretly applies himself to writing Crace's biography, throwing up Crace's muddy past and Adam's degenerate moral self.

Adam Woods is not so much the unreliable narrator as the skewed, myopic, perverted narrator. And Andrew Wilson ensures that the corrupt moral fibres of his narrator are highlighted repeatedly and to such an extent that the discomfort of the reading experience is somehow lost. The tension of the plot is suspended as the reader is presented with a tiresome young man who clearly has a bit of a personality problem. Freudian advocates will have a field day.

The atmosphere of the thriller/mystery genre is sought after in a blatant fashion: obtrusive imagery awkwardly elbows its way in, flagging up death, deviance and good old double-crossing throughout.

There will no doubt be a film, and a decent film at that. The Lying Tongue occasionally reads like a script - Adam's narrative is effectively a detailed record of his physical movements. And as the summer months approach, Wilson's debut will glide into the 'recommended holiday reads' columns. It belongs there - a slick mystery/thriller that unravels and expires without demanding the slightest effort from the reader. [Rhianna Andrews]