Paperback writers

Earlier this year Norman Lebrecht, arts editor of this paper, caused a stir by bagging the Whitbread First Novel Award at the grand old age of 54. And indeed, The Song of Names doesn't feel like a first attempt.

It's the immaculately plotted story of Martin, the swotty son of a music agent, and Dovidl, a highly strung violin-playing prodigy exiled from Poland. They rove round a Blitz-scarred London together, scoffing buns at a Lyons Corner House and bantering with prostitutes near Piccadilly.

Then Dovidl disappears on the eve of his much-hyped debut at the Albert Hall. Cue 40 years of hurt for Martin and his family, "invaded by genius and ruined by its defection", until one night Martin hears something strangely familiar about the double stopping of another young virtuoso. The Song of Names has glimmers of pretentiousness - microwaved canapes get an especially bad press - but by and large it's a worthy winner of rare scope and vision.