Perhaps it’s the tourists, or its slightly sordid edge, or just the sense of transience that clings to it, but I’ve never really liked Soho. I’m happy enough to grab a quick drink or a bite to eat there, but it’s not a place I like to linger. Soho has it fans and its detractors – and has for centuries. It’s one of those neighborhoods that invariably attracts slightly nostalgic disparagement. “It’s not what it used to be in the 1950s” (or 60s, 70s, 80s, pick your decade). London’s sex trade no longer has its center there, but it clings on in a few places, hold-outs against the tide of gentrification that brought PR and media companies, members’ clubs, and coffee shop chains. It’s here that Fiona Mozley has chosen to set her second novel, Hot Stew (a “stew” being a word used in medieval times for a brothel).

The heart of the plot is a series of battles. A battle between those who call a place home and those for whom it’s just another investment opportunity. A battle between those who want to preserve a little of the past, however sordid, and those pushing forward to a future of bland uniformity offering little more than expensive apartments and offices. Which side are you on – the squalid and colorful or the bland and safe? And where do your sympathies lie – with the exploiters or the exploited?

Hot Stew is vivid and colorful (much like Soho itself), and occasionally funny and poignant. I enjoyed the experience of reading it, but I doubt it will leave the sort of lasting mark that Mozley’s debut novel (Elmet) left. The imaginative effort is impressive, but I don’t think the effort should be so visible.