Waterline

Ross Raisin's sophomore effort is as jaw-droppingly brilliant as his award-winning debut, God's Own Country. Raisin's ability to really get to the nub of what it means to be a man and to be at odds with a world that doesn't quite understand is startlingly magnificent stuff.

Waterline follows a cab driver, Mick, from Glasgow who sinks into a pit of alcohol following his wife's death from cancer. His guilt - that the cancer was caused by asbestos exposure during his years as a shipbuilder. He soon finds himself on the streets of London, homeless, without a glimmer of hope, watching as the world carries on around him, safe in a cocoon of things they don't need. Sounds grim, sounds heartbreaking it might, but it's so well-written you never feel an overwrought sense of 'life lesson' from Raisin. His writing shadows the world around Mick, only occasionally seeks to comment and polemicise. Instead he choose occasionally break character, tell things from many perspectives and play with our attitudes to the homeless.

It's a neat trick and mixed with his ear for vernacular, his usage of the Glasweigan dialect, of emotive and vivid words to mean new things, that make this such a joy to read. It's carefully written with no wastage. It should have been on the Booker list this year. That it wasn't is a crime. Read it, it's the best literary fiction can get this year.