The dust jacket puff tells us that Gary Langford’s new novel is “in the richly bizarre vein of John Irvine”. For some this will be a less than enticing recommendation. But Vanities is a less sentimental book than Irvine could have written. Irvine’s humour is the measure of his characters’ untrammeled imaginativeness in an otherwise pedestrian world, a measure this reader finds fatuous. W ...
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