The enigmatic photograph of Michel Faber which appears on the jacket flap of The Fahrenheit Twins, his second collection of short stories, provides a clue to his literary ambition. Eschewing the conventional author’s portrait which is so often judged a necessity by publishers these days, Faber appears as an isolated figure shrouded in a hooded anorak. He is walking away from us, partially obscured by what could be falling snow or sunlight flaring in the camera’s lens. It is an ambiguous image – perhaps he is leading us out of the comfortable world we know, or perhaps he is leaving us behind, disappearing from view.

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