Clare Allan won the Orange/Harpers short story prize back in 2002. I read her winning piece at the time, and couldn’t get it out of my head. She demonstrated a genuinely thrilling new voice, capturing perfectly the tone of a mental hospital ward, its tension, its maddening logic and above all its camaraderie.
So when I heard that her debut novel was imminent, I asked your literary editor for the chance to review it. OK, not asked, more like camped outside the Doughty Street office for a month, singing sonnets of longing, that sort of thing. Thankfully, I wasn’t sectioned. I was sent the book.
My obsession paid off. Allan’s candid portrayal of a day patient at the Dorothy Fish rehabilitation unit in north London is funny, lyrical (for all its intentional bad grammar) and deeply affecting.



Comments
There are currently no comments for this article.