Every bit as dazzling and unexpected as Dead Souls, Doppelgaenger is a Russian doll of a novel, where layers give way to more layers, a hall of mirrors with endless reflections leading to the heart of the mystery, or possibly nowhere - it is hard to tell.

The story is set in a fictional English university town in the near future and follows the rise of a contagious 'twinning' trend among its students, which has unexpected outcomes on the artistic practices and individual subjectivities of those affected. The narrative sweep includes nefarious art collectors, AIs posing as poets, itinerant 'intimacy' professionals, and dramatises both the ambiguous allure of the collective and the dubious autonomy of the individual in market-led creative fields. We find ourselves in the absurdist literary tradition of Witold Gombrowicz, Antal Szerb, Roberto Bolaño.

As the proliferation of doubles increases, the patterns of duplication point to the presence of a mysterious 'third' - some suspect the phenomenon has a source beyond their everyday horizons . . .

This is fiction at its cleverest, at its most challenging, and most self-reflective. It is also very funny. The reader embarks on a quest with uncertain outcome, and Sam Riviere keeps us on our toes throughout with his wit, his stylistic brilliance and his matchless mind.