Brian lives alone in a small, rented flat. He has a dead-end job. He has no contact with his family, no romantic relationships, and avoids all unnecessary interactions with colleagues. The closest thing he has to friends is the small group of film aficionados he meets on his nightly visits to the British Film Institute. His unhappy childhood has left him fearful, anxious, and determined to eliminate the risks and uncertainties of daily life. He knows how difficult that is but the occasional intrusion of unpleasant surprises (the local launderette closes without warning) and accidents (he is hospitalized after being hit by a car) make him all the more determined to try. The guiding principles of his life are Keep watch. Stick to routine. Guard against surprise.

Film is not just Brian’s passion. It’s his way of understanding the world and interacting with it. It affirms and tempers his solitude, and channels him to worlds of experience and feeling otherwise inaccessible. The months turn into years. Brian retires, and little changes in his routines, but the final page sees an anonymous act of kindness. Is it the start of something new?

Brian is an unusual and unusually affecting novel. Depictions of solitude can be patronizing, but Jeremy Cooper avoids that pitfall with a characterization that is generous, kind, and ultimately moving.