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This book made Curious Incident fans wail and gnash their teeth in 2006. Who knows how Haddon’s reputation fares today, following the lukewarm response to this breezy domestic drama? I get the impression children’s voices are more his forte, what with being a bestselling kids' author and all. In fact, some of the best lines in this book belong to the toddler Jacob and revolve around poo and ice cream. But this is hardly worth a literary excommunication. It is the sort of book only established authors can release, but it does satisfy as a “warm-hearted page-turner�� (does anyone else feel sick?)

George is the centre of the story, a retired bourgeois gent who becomes a hypochondriac, a depressive and—later on, when he watches his wife being ploughed by another man—a self-harming borderline psychotic. His descent into madness while his selfish little brood run around arguing and breaking up and making up forms the moral centre of the book, though Haddon works hard to make the selfish people loveable in the end, and almost succeeds. Katie is still about as pleasant as a wet haddock in the face, and the mother is Hyacinth Bouquet without the moral compass. The men are nicer. The women not so nice. Discuss.

So there isn’t much in the way of style, originality or humour—this is David Nicholls territory, best left to David Nicholls—but it does provide an engaging and cosy alternative to being alive for a few hours, and that’s perhaps the best thing a book can offer.