I adored Morvern Callar and The Sopranos and have only just got round to reading this, the sequel to Morvern Callar. I had high hopes, but they were not entirely realised. I accept that Warner is an oddity as an author, it's what I like about him. In a way he reminds me of Nicola Barker, a genius author who for me can be very hit and miss in terms of enjoyment. That is kind of what you sign up for when you follow an author who isn't afraid to push the boundaries. For me, this was a kind of Gonzo Scottish vibe. Slightly psychedelic, verging on mystical, hallucinatory in places and, if you care to ponder it deeply, probably quite philosophical. There were some funny moments here amongst all the stream of consciousness and depth, but for me, what really missed the mark was the sense that Morvern Callar herself was largely missing from the book. If I hadn't known it was a sequel, I wouldn't have known that it was her in these pages and that was a shame, because she's a great character. It has moments of greatness I think, but it's too all over the place to ultimately pull it together.