This is the most impressive debut novel I have ever read. Many debuts showcase the writer’s skills, but none have openly offered this combination of honesty, integrity and vulnerability.

This is a love story, told in the second person, between a young Black photographer of Ghanaian heritage living in London (just like the author) and a young Black dancer. They begin a deep platonic friendship. The evolution into romantic love is inevitable, but she goes back to university in Dublin, while he works in London. How their love develops and becomes complicated forms an outwardly basic plot. What differentiates this is the candid fragility and depth of characterisation.

True to form, the second person perspective asks the reader to stand in the character’s shoes. The experience is carefully managed, but unsettling. There is an inherent – and justified – fear of authority and the characters must always be aware of who and where they are. His barber is talking to our narrator: ‘Doesn’t feel like I’m wanted here … Sometimes it hurts to be us.’ The narrator is trying to be seen and not being seen or, being seen for something other than what he is.

The author name-checks James Baldwin on page one, so you know this is political (as it must be). He also shouts out to other Black artists, writers and musicians. This is not riding on coattails, but generously advertising talent in the Black community. His own musical and poetic sensibilities rhythmically infuse his writing.

The trust voluntarily given to the reader is astonishing. It’s not just being in the narrator’s skin, the narrator is opening his chest with both hands and asking the reader to cradle his heart. This is a writer of immense talent. Amazingly outstanding.

Reviewed by Bob Moore