Even though Ghosts is Dolly Alderton’s debut, it was the last of her books that I read.

And despite Good Material still being my definition of a perfect contemporary novel, Ghosts didn’t disappoint either. It was more than good. It was thoughtful, reflective and, as Dolly’s books usually are, astute in its observations on middle-class London society. 

It’s about Nina George Dean who, as a 31 year-old, has what many millennials consider to be the pinnacle of success – a stable job doing what she loves and her own flat. Ever since she broke up with her long-term partner in her late twenties, she has solely focused on her career and personal life. But regardless of her achievements, ghosts linger – her elderly father is succumbing to dementia; her mother is going through a mid-life crisis in an effort to cope; her childhood best friend has fully retreated into parenthood. Partly in need of a distraction and partly pushed by societal expectations, Nina now feels ready to put herself out there. So, she joins a dating app and soon meets Max, a frazzled man by nature and expert love bomber by choice (or the other way around). Their relationship kicks off, but not without challenges, leaving Nina to ponder on the precarity of dating in your thirties as a woman.

Unlike Alderton’s later books, this one lacks a certain finesse. Whereas Good Material is neat in its beat and punchlines, this one’s a bit frayed at the edges, with a somewhat shaky start that left me uncertain as to where it was going.

Soon enough, however, this slight quirk grew on me as I realised not every slice of life needs a clean three-act structure. Ultimately, it was this directionlessness that made Ghosts so immersive. Like Nina’s life, this book is a bit messy. Not in the chaotic way of literary novels about female rage, but rather in the quaint way all our lives are to some extent. It’s the mess of dating apps and ghosting and love bombing and seeing everyone around you get married and have children.

Indeed, that’s what I love about Dolly’s books – her unremarkable characters. Where Good Material had us hooked on the POV of a mid-thirties failing stand-up comedian, Ghosts immerses us in the story of a woman who, for the most part, lives a perfectly content middle-class life. There’s no tragic backstory or appeals to grandeur, the protagonist isn’t inherently special or, god forbid, quirky in that manic pixie way. It’s rare for an author to tackle unexceptional perspectives with the introspection that Dolly does.

With ordinary people as main characters, her prose has the space to investigate more minute discourses on everyday things, like the dating dynamics between adults living in a big city, perpetually distracted by the next catch that could be waiting for them with every swipe of a screen. 

Perhaps my favourite theme was identity, emphasised by the father’s dementia. The book then begs the question: What makes us who we are? Is it what we experience and the people we meet? And if so, what can be said about the identity of a person like Nina’s father, who’s on a rapid decline into complete forgetfulness? It’s the moments when the main character ponders on memory and selfhood that had me in tears.

In fact, if Alderton’s Good Material had me laughing on a coach to Wales a few months back, Ghosts had me crying the entire time on a two-hour plane journey. I’m sensing a pattern here.

One last thing though. Ghosts has been marketed as a contemporary romance. It’s simply not. If you go into it expecting Nina’s relationship with Max to be the focus of the book, you’re going to be disappointed. In fact, the main relationship the book explores is the one between Nina and her father, which I found way more wholesome.

Ghosts isn’t a romance. It’s a slice of life with some poignant moments that astutely observe the dynamics between children and parents, heterosexual men and women, childhood friends and the new friends you make as an adult. Combined with Dolly’s quippy writing, I can safely say I was enthralled from start to finish.