ENGLEBY

Sebastian Faulks (Hutchinson, £17.99)

Mike Engleby began talking to the author one night and wouldn't stop. Faulks simply wrote down what he heard and his latest novel was born, almost fully formed. This disarming description of how the book came to fruition belies his skilful efforts to creating a believable, engaging and, dare I say it, almost likeable character.

We first meet Engleby, our reasonably reliable narrator, as a Cambridge undergraduate. While it is clear he has problems socialising, and difficulties with girls, these shortcomings could be attributed to childhood beatings which damaged his self-esteem.

On the whole, Engleby, and the man he becomes - journalist Michael Watson - seems able to function in society in a normal way. Engleby listens to Procul Harem, doesn't like eating in hall, and drives a Morris 1100, but does that make him mad, bad and dangerous to know?

Just as we begin to accept Engleby's frailties and enjoy his delivery, Faulks fractures the growing trust between reader and narrator. A girl in Engleby's year goes missing. He has her diary, but is he responsible for her disappearance?

At this point, the question mark over Engleby's good character - the did-he-do-it factor - could have derailed the novel, but Faulks switches swiftly to a new phase of Engleby's life, and his guilt is left hanging as a question mark.

Engleby becomes a little more likeable, becoming a magazine and newspaper writer. He even gets a girlfriend. As we like him more, the more culpable we are in his downfall. If Engleby is a product of society, are we partly responsible for how he turned out?

Faulks includes some highbrow stuff about psychiatry and mental illness but keeps material better suited to textbooks, and his last novel Human Traces, mercifully brief. This is a haunting character study of modern man going off the rails. Next time Faulks hears voices in his head, he should definitely write them down.

Andrew Ffrench