For those familiar with the comedic horror of D.B.C. Pierre’s fiction, worry not about the conventional beginning as this novella soon descends into a tightly wound pressure cooker reminiscent of Edgar Allan Poe, both hilarious and horrific. The opening string of messages flashing between entangled lovers, but split across worlds, may repulse readers who find modernity and technology in fiction irritating, but this is not a reckless appearance of texts and tweets – it’s this duel of contemporary contradictions and ironies that Pierre makes a good fist of.

Ariel Panek is an American mathematician stranded on the foggy coast of Suffolk after his plane is diverted from Amsterdam where Zeva, his student lover, paces anxiously, waiting for a text message that could ‘raise or squash in an instant, no hope it couldn’t nurture or kill’. Without mobile reception Ariel checks into the Cliffs Hotel, a guesthouse reeking of 70s plastic and kitsch, complete with cantankerous hosts and devoid of guests, besides the Border family. Wild, unpredictable, generous, talented and grotesque, the Borders coax Ariel into a melodrama that quickly turns to farce. He is desperate and dependent upon their willingness to share their phone so he can get in touch with Zeva.

In three acts we witness Zeva and Ariel move from rationality to madness, their scientific brains unable to cope with the chaos of emotion that rises from hope and possibility. But what of the Borders? These modern-day Borgias are vividly drawn and every bit as greedy, powerful, murderous and lustful as their Renaissance namesakes, and they are the key to the book’s gothic twist. Pierre’s novel is unexpected and dastardly clever, and he takes us on a journey of the River Styx. Easily devoured between meals, it would make a perfect recipe for the stage. Bon appétit!

Luke May is a freelance reviewer.