Every second novel is fated to be measured against its predecessor; and that comparison is particularly hard when the debut in question was acclaimed (Jenni Fagan’s The Panopticon was shortlisted for the Desmond Elliott Prize) or held to exemplify some modish literary sub-genre. Fagan’s style was tagged as ‘gritty Scottish realism’, and ill-served by comparisons to Irvine Welsh, which made much of her use of profanity and dialect. But where Welsh’s style has long since descended into shtick, Fagan’s coarseness of language was never more than surface detail. It was clearly in the service of authenticity of voice, and Anais Hendricks, the disturbed but resilient protagonist of The Panopticon, is memorable for much more than her readiness with swear-words. Here was an unsentimental and illuminating treatment of vulnerability and mental illness.
When 11-year-old Stella Fairbairn, the central presence in The Sunlight Pilgrims, lapses into vulgarity, she is half-heartedly discouraged by her mother, Constance, who resorts (in a wry gesture by Fagan) to keeping a swear jar.
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