I enjoyed reading this debut novel by Chris Power. It’s a peculiar hybrid. On the surface it’s a straightforward mystery. An English, Berlin-based novelist (Robert), struggling to write, is approached by another writer (Patrick) with a story to tell of Russian oligarchs and their dark deeds. Can Patrick be believed and trusted or is he just another drunken fantasist looking for attention? Much of this is handled very well by Power. He builds tension nicely and keeps the reader guessing until the end. But he’s more ambitious than many thriller writers and teases us with questions about stories and their complex connections with truth. Who, if anyone, owns a story? Can there ever be only one version of a tale or is a story something that shifts and changes as it’s handed from one teller to another, a thing that belongs to everyone equally, constantly available for renewal and re-shaping?