The thing with Jonathan Coe that always feels like a slap in my face is how modern, real, and British his stories are.

I don’t read many modern books. In fact I hardly ever read anything published after 1999. Just like with What a Carve Up! Characters are quite something, but this one -I did not notice it was 2015.

With most of the books I read I’m transported to places and settings I don’t know. Jonathan Coe doesn’t transport me anywhere, and while his characters are a bit cartoonish, at the same time you find yourself thinking “I’m sure there are people just like them!” And then he talks about the austerity, and the food banks, bedroom tax, the Tory racism, I’m a celebrity get me out of here, and Twitter it’s creepy how feels no fiction at all. But surely whenever someone reads Jonathan Coe 100 years from now, they’ll have a clear picture of what Britain was on 2018.