On page 298 of Glenn Taylor's marvellous The Marrowbone Marble Company appears a word that has niggled at me since the 60s. Those of you old enough to remember The Monkees may vaguely recall a song sung by Micky Dolenz called - initially - Randy Scouse Git. Social mores of the time were offended and the record company came up with the less than inspired Alternate Title. If you're still struggling I've cribbed some of the lyrics from the Monkees official website:

"Why don't you cut your hair?
Why don't you live up there?
Why don't you do what I do,
See what I feel when I care?

Now they've darkened all the windows
And the seats are naugh-a-hyde.
I've been waiting for an hour,
I can't find a place to hide."

Now here, as in Marrowbone, it's quite easy to work out the context - a quick enquiry of google throws up the definition 'a brand of artificial leather ("pleather"), made from vinyl polymer coated plastic'. Obviously, an Americanism that didn't make it over here as it wasn't in the dictionary I rushed to back in the sixties, indeed, nor is it in my Collins English today.

Not a major discovery, you may say but a little bit of personal closure from a book that I would highly recommend. The Guardian's reviewer has accorded Mr Taylor the company of Twain, Faulkner, and McCullers - heady stuff. The Independent plumps for John Irving which I find closer, although I'd say he's somewhere between Irving and Jim Lynch about whom I've waxed lyrical not so long back.

Having whetted your appetite I now have to disappoint you by confessing that the book isn't out until next February in hardback but certainly one to add to your list.