But times were good for fiction: this was a rich 12 months, with plenty of big names and big ideas – though not always wrapped up in the same package. The sprawling Here I Am (Hamish Hamilton) ranges over such weighty subjects as America, Israel, marriage and masculinity, with diversions into obscene uses for a doorknob. Rachel Cusk’s Transit (Jonathan Cape), the second instalment in a trio of novels that channel disparate voices through the consciousness of their narrator, was even better than 2014’s Outline. And Deborah Levy’s Hot Milk (Hamish Hamilton) plumbed mythic and psychoanalytical archetypes for a profound exploration of a damaged mother-daughter relationship. Francis Spufford’s fiction debut, Golden Hill (Faber), is brilliant, and brilliant fun: a loving recreation of New York in 1746, where a mysterious stranger arrives from England, and gets into ever-deeper trouble.

Source: The Guardian November 30, 2016 07:30 UTC