I loved Will Wiles' previous two books, partly because they were quirky and unexpected, sadly I didn't feel this one lived up to them. After a very slow start it had some interesting points to make about honesty, addiction, data and city living but failed to really engage me.
Thank you to netgalley and Harper Collins for an advance copy of this book

I really enjoyed this book and read it in nearly one sitting.

It reminded me of William Boyd's Armadillo in that past lies have returned to bite characters on the bum, and we watch as they get into deeper messes in trying to cover up.

There is plenty in this book that is highly relatable - mistaking plastic carrier bags for animals, feelings on pop up experiences made out of shipping containers, sneering at the smugness of hipsters/Nathans and regeneration/class cleansing in general.

My favourite part was the mention of a man photographing his shoes in Wetherspoons at Liverpool Street Station - thank you for the sneaky Easter egg.

In Plume, Jack Bick is a journalist who is barely able to keep his life together. Every act is based around when and where he can get his next drink. Bick gets black-out drunk, which allows him to do things he forgets that push the plot along. It is inexplicable how he is hanging on to his job.
Jack has two interviews to turn things around, which is about two more than he can manage. He goes to interview Oliver Pierce, a novelist. A big story accidentally falls into his lap, and the reader is sure he will screw it up. As a metaphor for Bick's disarray, a plume of smoke from an industrial fire seems to follow him around, and infects his being.
Because of his drinking, Bick is easy to manipulate, and us drawn into a mystery he doesn't really understand. It is an intriguing journey which also acts as an exploration on how our personal data is repackaged and monetised. Four stars.

A slow start to the book but it is worth staying with it.
Over all a well written book
Thank you to both NetGalley and Harper Collins uk for my eARC in exchange for my honest unbiased review

A slow-burner novel with interesting premise and gripping characters; a book about alcoholism, with contemporary themes and setting, that questions the line between truth and lies.

Plume is a a novel about contemporary London, truth, and alcoholism, tinged with a darkly comic writing style and an ominous atmosphere. Jack Bick writes features for a magazine and pretends that his drinking isn't a problem. When a column of smoke appears on the London skyline outside his office, it feels like an omen, particularly along with Jack smelling smoke all the time. He tries to ignore this and goes to interview reclusive writer Oliver Pierce, who reveals a secret about his most popular book that could save Jack's job, if he can only get it written. Drawn into a partnership with Pierce against the city and tied to a new app that tracks people's location, Jack must work out what is real and what is only imagination.

This is a surprising novel in many ways. It was quite slow to start and felt like it could have sparks of brilliance without a compelling plot (particularly some laugh out loud imagery and cutting depictions of London), but then turned into something much better than it first seemed. Particularly the way in which Jack's alcoholism, which could've been a hackneyed trope that wasn't really dealt with properly, was crucial and faced full on. In fact, though the book could be marketed as one about modern London and about what is real, it could just as easily be seen as a book about addiction and about how it makes people view the world. The underlying message about tech companies and big data was perhaps more predictable, but it worked well with the other plot elements, turning psychogeography into the digital as a recommendations app looks for urban myth.

What could've been a dull story about trying to write turned into a gripping look at addiction and space, which satirises London media culture and gentrification whilst taking its topics seriously. The desperation of living in London and the pain of addiction seem to blur, showing the psychological effect of both whilst questioning the line between truth and lies. Plume felt more than its blurb, with an unnerving sense of smoke lingering after you put it down.