Coconut Unlimited, by Nikesh Shukla (Quartet, £10)
Harrow, London, early 1990s. In this Costa-shortlisted debut, Amit, Anand and Nishant belong to neither the world of their white private school, where they are mocked as the only Asian pupils, nor that of their traditional Gujarati families, where their lack of interest in science infuriates their parents. So they decide to embrace a new identity – as black rappers. That none of them has even spoken to a black person, and they have only the faintest idea of Public Enemy etc, is, apparently, not a problem. Their hip-hop band, Coconut Unlimited, will transcend the taunt levelled at them: "Brown on the outside, white on the inside." Yet Anand becomes sidetracked by girls, and it is left to Amit to galvanise the group. What the writing lacks in depth and maturity, Shukla makes up for with irreverence and humour.
The Spider Truces, by Tom Connolly (Myriad, £7.99)
A remote corner of Kent is the background to Connolly's magical coming-of-age novel, set between 1976 and 1989. Denny O'Rourke, struggling to come to terms with the death of his wife, moves his daughter Chrissie and her younger brother Ellis to a run-down woodland cottage, which he aims to restore as they rebuild their lives. Denny's eccentric Aunt Mafi completes the picture. Ellis is an awkward, unusual boy, given to outrageous utterances, dominated by a fear of the spiders dwelling in every corner of the house; the negotiation with Ellis's ongoing terror and his challenging singularity is one of many family battles focused on personal boundaries and freedom. Growing up, Ellis prefers to spend time on the local farm; later he will develop a talent for photography, but relationships remain a mystery to him in this fierce, humane and hazily poetic work.
Down to the Dirt, by Joel Thomas Hynes (Brandon, £9.99)
Written with bravado and panache, Hynes's slice of downbeat ugliness is unnervingly voyeuristic. On the far Newfoundland coast, drifting teenagers dream of escape to Toronto and life on the edge, unaware they are already experiencing it in their own desperate way. Hellraiser Keith Kavanagh is the centre of this disaffected, aimless group, avoiding reality through car chases, drunken fights, wanton vandalism, sex and drugs. Opening with 13-year-old Keith lovelessly losing his virginity to a lonely single mother, the narrative snappily alternates between various characters from their small town. Keith's girlfriend, Natasha, and quieter best friend are his sidekicks. Natasha and Keith's amour fou lurks at the dark heart of the story; tenderness and revulsion mixed. The bleak landscape, grittily rendered, emphasises the "bottomless black" of the whole book.
Sleepwalker, by John Toomey (Dalkey Archive, £10.99)
A catastrophic week in the life of Stuart Byrne, "uncurious slave to contended indifference", unfolds with comic mock-horror in Toomey's stylish cautionary tale. Hailing from Dublin's prosperous suburbs, twentysomething, good-looking, easy of charm, Stuart has more or less sailed through life, inexplicably buoyed by his parents' bitter marriage and his own unspoken crush on best friend Rachel. A brush with the seamier side of London following college graduation sent him running back home and to a regular business job, weekends drinking and watching soaps. Then a real, grown-up problem is sprung on him, and Stuart takes refuge in drink, forgetfulness, promiscuity – all propelled by a refusal to engage in the irritating complexities of adulthood. Eventually, even the brisk prose and author's evident fondness for his wayward hero cannot save him from a messy conclusion.
