Capital by John Lanchester

Capital is…well….capital. It’s clever and never feels wordy: despite its 577 pages, it positively zips along. Underneath the story, which really is a nice construction, lies an understanding of London, a loving explanation of it and of the people, the fabulous mix of which is as much the city’s character as is its the grey grimey grimness. I hope this book doesn’t date, it is a nice literary ‘guide to’. On the other hand, it is firmly set in a period. One could easily imagine sociological and political changes, both internally and externally which would make this irrelevant to some other London, leaving blank failure to comprehend as a response.

For now, though, it is a sad and hilarious, addictive soap of a street in London. Four stars.

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