Little Shit Syndrome is normally diagnosed in small children. Cheeky novelists are apparently also susceptible. Hey man, what if I alternate fucking and theory in my rad new novel? Check this one under bong hits to perspicacity. I nearly cringe when I think about this novel. Politics didn't leave me wanting a shower, I wasn't dirty, only bored and annoyed with Thirwell's waste of tender gifts.
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Written at the tender age of 23, Politics went on to be a bestseller, translated into twenty languages and lauded by Granta, GQ, etc etc etc. It is an assured debut, although a slightly juvenile one in parts.

Thirlwell has developed a precociously individual style, full of phonetic spellings ('restron', 'therpy', ''snot'), historical references (Hitler, Vaclav Havel, and his idol Milan Kundera), and sensitive explorations of love, sex and relationships - especially sex, which unlike most authors he is very good at.

Generally the novel is provocatively graphic but not obscene, and handles the symbolism, thoughts, and innate humour in which sex is steeped very well. Although his faux-naif narrative style is occasionally irritating and overly intrusive, the book picks up to explore the dynamics of a menage-a-trois and love and obligation. Impressive - but a little lightweight. ( )

Interesting style and characters, but the story was a little bit dull. Overall not a bad book. ( )