The Lighthouse by Alison Moore

The Booker judges have done a great job of selecting The Lighthouse for this year's shortlist nominations. Although first appearances suggest otherwise, there's nothing simple about this short first novel from Alison Moore.

Meet Futh; standing on a wet and blustery ferry deck on a summer's day, on his way to Germany for a solo walking holiday. Forty-something Futh, recently separated from his wife and removed from a marriage seemingly lacking in mutual love and affection, is re-visiting the country of his grandfather and the only place he holidayed with his father, at the age of twelve.

As the novel unfolds it becomes evident that adult Futh is stuck in the past of his childhood; never recovered from his mother's abrupt abandonment of he and his father more than 30 years previously. Futh carries around with him, obsessively, an antique silver perfume case in the shape of a lighthouse. It is the only memento he has of his mother. Little wonder his marriage has now gone awry as what wife can live up to the memories of a long-gone mother and a husband who is constantly making comparisons with an idolised woman?

Futh collects stick insects, he cannot stay in a room without first planning an escape route, he doesn't think to wear-in a pair of boots he expects to wear for over 100 miles of walks, his job is making synthetic perfumes, trying to re-capture his mother's scent. Socially-awkward Futh paints a disconsolate picture of a man who has never found the tools and support to face the past and move on with life.

In alternate chapters we encounter Ester's story, landlady of the small hotel in provincial small-town fictitious "Hellhaus", where Futh is to spend the first and last nights of his walking holiday. Trapped in an abusive marriage, lacking in any real affection from an obsessive, controlling husband, Ester seeks solace in sexual encounters with hotel guests. Where Futh and Ester's stories converge, leads to the catastrophic denouement of misunderstanding at the novel's close.

The novel is tightly written in symbolic and evocative prose. Effects are often hinted at rather than explicitly disclosed, adding to the novel's poignancy. As you are reading, many layers unravel and the author's understanding of the psychological make-up of her characters becomes increasingly apparent. Sad and melancholy, it's a brutal exposé of loveless dysfunctional relationships between men and women and the consequences that can arise.

I devoured this book in one sitting. It's an excellent choice for the Booker shortlist and it's refreshing to see a new author receiving the recognition she deserves. Read The Observer's recent interview with Alison Moore here. Published by independent publisher, Salt Publishing.