I got this book to accompany me on the long train trips to and from London, seeing as it isn't quite as heavy as the Neal Stephenson tome I am otherwise reading.
   Narcopolis was apparently shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2012 and to a certain extent I can see why. The writing is very smooth and takes you from character to character without you, the reader, realising how you're being juggled about. Some of the descriptions are fairly horrific; most of the characters are locked into a vicious cycle of drug-taking; it's not always a pretty read.
   At times the slipping from character to character is so smooth and deliberately muddling that I got, well, muddled. I felt the book was sacrificing content for style in these places, and suffered a bit as a result. But maybe that's just me and the soporific effect of sitting on a train for ten hours.
   Bearing in mind that it's not always an easy or comfortable read, I'd recommend Narcopolis; just don't blame me if you can't figure out who is doing what at certain stages of the narrative.