What to read after Fin?

Save Our Sharks says the new kiddie-friendly cartoon propaganda poster in the atrium of my local swimming pool. And I'm thinking: "Fuck. Is nothing sacred?" I mean, whatever next? Save Our Cancerous Cells? Save Our Plague Bacilli?'So opens Joe's story. He's a man who looks like he's got it made: he's solvent, his career's going a dream and his girlfriend Sam is a total babe. But something nasty is stalking his karma. Black-eyed killer sharks are after him and the razor jaws of a great White (Charcharias Charcharadon) are closing in on him. And sharks are not the only things out to get him. Sam will probably leave him for someone altogether better adjusted. He'll probably never conquer level ten of Super Mario (and until he does how can he start on his novel?).Joe is in dire need of solace from the neuroses of modern life, not to mention the endless replays of his own death scene. And then across the room at a party one night, he sees a girl not quite like the others, a girl, moreover, with her own shark story to tell.... Will she salvage what's left of Joe from Charcharias Charcharadon or will he have to fight his own fearful battle in the cold depths of his psyche?

'Save Our Sharks says the new kiddie-friendly cartoon propaganda poster in the atrium of my local swimming pool. And I'm thinking: "Fuck. Is nothing sacred?" I mean, whatever next? Save Our Cancerous Cells?'

So opens Joe's story. He's a man who looks like he's got it made: he's solvent, his career's going a dream and his girlfriend's a total babe. But something nasty is stalking his karma and fear is fast becoming terror. Black-eyed killer sharks are after him and the razor jaws of a Great White (Charcharodon Carcharias) are closing in on him.

'Here's a rare thing, a contemporary novel that's genuinely funny, cleverly conceived and written with a great deal of skill and dexterity.. . . Fin is slick, pacy and easy to read. Above all, though, it's funny. Much to my annoyance, I laughed out loud several times - and in public too' John Preston, Sunday Telegraph