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“My name is Miles Walker. Remember it. I’m keen on immortality. I’ve got to be. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m the best painter of my generation. And I’ve got four hours to live.”
On the eve of the millennium, Miles Walker has problems. His flatmate Thurston, a moody medievalist, thinks it would be a good career move for Miles to die young. Miles’ best friend, the pre-conceptual artist ZakDot, agrees – and the chainsaw-wielding Maddie seems only too happy to help. Then along comes Destiny, the enigmatically beautiful politician who hates art but likes Miles. Now the others really want to kill him. By the time bare buttocks are squeaking over the blackheart sassafras of the prime ministerial dining table, it looks like Miles’ fate is sealed.
‘This has to be the hot novel of the summer…fast and funny, it’s a satirical thriller with a romantic comedy sub-plot - one of those books that breaks the mould…Like Miles, Jaivin evidently has respect for artistic tradition -including good structure, characterisation and universality of theme. But she also likes to have fun. A treat not to be missed, whatever your generation.’
‘Jaivin’s portrait of the art world is terrifyingly accurate.’
‘Wit and whimsy abound.’