The debut novel by the bass player of acclaimed Brit miserablists Belle & Sebastian continues the kind of the associations that band's moniker will have for anyone over the age of thirty. It's a fable. Our narrator keeps his name in reserve because his diamond is a secret. They call him Mr Reynard. That's why he has to say little, keep his powder dry, able to run; always one step ahead of those who would cut him open for his special prize. Nalda said.

She was an aunt, brought him up from wee and into his teens before all that blood and they had to take her away. Now he lives at the hospital, in its grounds. He's the gardener. And there are Frank and Elizabeth, who seem to like him, and there's Marie, a nurse, who really seems to like him. When he sees her he starts to wish things would never change, for his father's gift never to come out.

There are suggestions of Patrick McGrath - Spider, Asylum - in all this: galloping paranoia. Or perhaps more rightly we should call on the childish conceits of fabulist Philip Ridley for a touchstone. The style - the mangled language of Nalda's education - is both reminiscent of and less affected than Patrick McCabe. That's inevitable. Stuart feels like he's working out a past. But this book would have found a publisher even without his market bolstering musical duties. It's really rather good, but he will write better.