Slough House by Mick Herron

Mick Herron has been called ‘the John le Carré of his generation’ by the crime writer Val McDermid, and in the 11 years since the first of his ‘Slough House’ novels appeared they have become a best-selling phenomenon. Herron echoes le Carré’s horror at Brexit, which in this latest instalment is only referred to as ‘You-Know-What’. Slough House is, in fact, nowhere near the Berkshire town but an office building close to the Barbican, and no less drab for it. This is where a bunch of ‘slow horses’, spies who have blotted their copybooks in various ways, nominally work.

Herron has said: ‘Failures are more interesting than successes: they have all that regret, they act out, they feel thwarted and frustrated, not fun to live but great fun to write about.’ He certainly appears to be having great fun in Slough House, the seventh novel in the series, and his enjoyment is rarely at the expense of the reader’s. But he occasionally overdoes it in his portrayal of Jackson Lamb as the most flatulent and misanthropic of the slow horses.

Rake's Progress by Rachel Johnson

Rachel Johnson’s diary of her time as editor of The Lady magazine was a comic masterpiece. Those of us who consider it one of the funniest books ever written might wonder why she wastes her talent on anything else: novels, appearing on Celebrity Big Brother or, in fact, standing as a candidate for the European Parliament.

Johnson has now published another diary of sorts, about this latter experience: her decision to enter politics in 2019, when she stood as a candidate for Change UK in the European elections, a few months before her eldest brother became Prime Minister.

The book has been furnished with quotes from Marina Hyde and Jilly Cooper but sadly, it is not the moreish treat one might have hoped for. Even her best writing has a sense of haste about it.

Blood by Maggie Gee

Maggie Gee has written 14 novels including The White Family, which was shortlisted for the Orange Prize (now the Women’s Prize). Blood, her latest, is a bizarrely misfiring black comedy. The setting is Thanet, which was the only Ukip-held council in Britain until March last year, when almost half of its councillors resigned and formed a breakaway group. The choice of Thanet is not accidental, and one’s initial hope was that this might be the first great Brexit novel.

Brexit is mentioned, but the narrative is dominated by 38-year-old ‘buxom bruiser’ Monica Ludd, an unconventional deputy head at a local secondary school, who we are repeatedly told is six foot.