The problem with metafiction is that it threatens to make the reader redundant. The metafictional novel can perform as its own critic, with the author offering a wry nod which says, ‘I know what you’re going to say, this part of the plot is a little hackneyed, but hey, look, I’ve thought of that already!’ Hence reading Jonathan Buckley’s One Boat, a novel which highlights its own status as fiction, my eyes were poised to roll. But trepidation quickly gave way to a feeling of pleasure thanks to the lucidity and intricacy with which Buckley deconstructs and analyses his own work.

One Boat is narrated by Teresa, a high-flying lawyer who has travelled to a small Greek town following the death of her father. She had been to the town nine years earlier to mourn her mother, and the tales she was told by the inhabitants made a lasting impression. Now she’s back, once again armed with her trusty notebook. Teresa hopes to find clarity and solace; writing is her means to do this. Perhaps by putting her life down on paper she will better understand her now-deceased parents, and herself.

The town itself is picture-perfect, selected by Teresa on her first trip for precise qualities: it is quiet, shabby, coastal, has few tourists and is in possession of a central square suitable for chance meetings. Teresa explains how she chose the spot like a film director scouting for the ideal