Although the premise at the heart of Michael Covino's novel is 24 carat, the joys (and they are numerous) of his debut never involve laurel-resting. The negative in question belongs to The High Plateau of Stars, Part II - $67 million follow-up to Doug Lowell's critical/commercial smash. It's acquired by an unlikely trio - Frank Furio, Ivy-League educated gangster's son with a background in property fraud; and down-at-heel film professor Wilbur Blackfield and his suspiciously young girlfriend, Jolene.

The three ransom the mega-buck director's film back to him, confident in his cashing up to meet the fast approaching release date. But to a creative artist plagued by doubt, convinced his self-financed, over-indulgent sequel is a turkey of the highest order, the insurance money offered by its permanent loss is mightily attractive.

To the thieves therefore falls the unenviable task of proving Lowell's motion picture a masterpiece, and how better than by kidnapping the local Siskel & Ebert-esque TV film critics for the sneak preview of the season.

There is something plausibly over-blown in all this - Lowell, the fertile genius, kept virtual prisoner by his own employees on a luxury estate to stop him tampering further with his film; the elegant simplicity of the kidnap plan - but where Covino (a writer on film and erstwhile script-reader for Coppola) scores big is in audaciously upping the ante every few pages, creating an ingeniously plotted spiral of mixed motives, petty revenge and breathless satire. Somehow he successfully weaves into his narrative that ridiculously over-extended bogeyman a serial murderer - the Convenience Store Killer - and Lowell's own petty revenges against hangers-on, skilfully using them to feed the main plot to almost absurd lengths. Likewise, the twists and turns of almost labyrinthine deals between the principles propel the book to delightfully unexpected places.

For a debut, The Negative is remarkably assured in both its style and well-targeted satirical missiles. It comes on as an unholy cross between the acid Hollywood of Michael Tolkin's The Player and Elmore Leonard; more than almost any writer in recent memory Covino brilliantly plugs into the crumpled, lived-in criminality of the king of US crime. From the lunatic excesses of Lowell's productions to a satisfyingly complete resolution, The Negative fails to put a foot wrong. Wild, wired and really rather wonderful.