English Passengers, by Matthew Kneale (Penguin, £6.99 in UK)

Having looked like the dark horse capable of snatching last year's Booker Prize from Margaret Atwood, Kneale's colourful, funny, at times angry and often profound yarn, duly became the Whitbread Book of the Year. That said, this novel of lively moments and intelligent insights has a creaky technique and is not overly subtle. Still, it is highly readable, and draws on the appeal of a long sea journey aboard a 19th-century sailing ship in the days when there was still something left to discover. Two themes dominate: the vicious debate tirelessly waged between the men of God and those preferring to believe in the wonders of science; and Kneale's deadly serious, detailed examination of the slave trade and the inhuman exploitation of native peoples in the name of exploration. Several colourful

characters narrate through monologues and letters, which can create the impression of a confused relay team running without a baton. But the bickering chaos as well as the author's full-blooded intent ensure it succeeds as a vivid, humane performance.