This is a very odd book indeed. I hadn't read any Magnus Mills before and was looking forward to it, but in the end I was left bemused.

The story is narrated by an unnamed man who, with his friend James starts up a society in the back room of a pub, in which they simply listen "forensically" to records, with "no judgements and no comments." Internal tensions and rival societies arise, and the exercise of power and fanatical purism are (I think) satirised.

It's readable enough, but I really couldn't make out what the point of it was. Also, be aware that there are a huge number of musical references; some are to songs by name (but the artist is never given) and some just by lines like "what's all that about leaving a cake out in the rain?" (That's MacArthur Park, written by Jimmy Webb, just in case you didn't know.) I'm by no means an encyclopaedic geek, but I do know quite a lot about the music of the last 60 years and a significant proportion of the songs were unknown to me. If you're not musically knowledgeable, this might be a real problem when reading.

Things happen, but in an almost dreamlike detachment (we learn nothing whatever about any of the characters other than their approach to music and the Society), there are lots of slight weirdnesses, only some of which I could see the point of, and the ending is so bizarre that I wondered whether I'd received a faulty download. (I don't think I had.) I find it hard to rate the book; it's well written but very odd and, to me anyway, ultimately rather inconsequential.

(I received an ARC via Netgalley.)

Magnus Mills writes short, quirky books about ordinary people in rule-bound situations. In this case, we have a number of blokes – all with blokey names: Dave, Peter, Kevin, Keith, Barry, Mike, etc. – who form a club in the backroom of their regular pub, The Half Moon, where they listen to each others’ records. And that’s all they do, listen. They mustn’t comment or judge. As the weeks go on, the rules get added to – a new rule every time someone tries to do anything that slightly deviates from the norm.

And understandably, the rules don’t please everyone and rival record clubs are formed, each meeting on a different night of the week, but always in the backroom of The Half Moon. This does not amuse the true believers in the original Forensic Records Society who set out on missions of subterfuge, espionage and ultimately diplomacy.

Like other Magnus Mills novls, this is a stripped down work. There is little superfluous detail; there is minimal scene setting and no depth of characterisation, no backstory and not a great deal of logic underpinning the basic premise of the story. Instead, it is a parody of officious bureaucracy with the occasional side-foray into punishment, personal freedom and the nature of social compliance.

There are occasional points of intrigue – the mysteriously disappearing hours whilst the society meets; the mysterious record with the white label; and what, precisely, goes on in the Confessions hosted by a rival group. These are not explained and this will not surprise Magnus Mills fans. Oddity is expected and simply accepted.

There is some humour derived from how seriously the participants take their records when many of them (those the reader will have heard of) and really quite average. And there is humour derived from these sad little men with sad little lives whose sole interest seems to be an obsolete form of musical recording. But it is quiet humour – nothing terribly sidesplitting.

This is a short read, not dazzlingly different from other Magnus Mills novels, but a welcome addition to the canon.