FICTION: So What If I'm BrokenBy Anna McPartlin Poolbeg, 328pp, €12.99

AT THE heart of Anna McPartlin’s gripping new novel is a woman who isn’t there. Alexandra Kavanagh disappears without a trace shortly after leaving Dalkey Dart station on a summer afternoon. She was on her way to collect tickets for a gig by her favourite musician, Jack Lukeman (the real performer, better known to the general public as Jack L). After she vanishes, her devastated husband, Tom, devotes himself to finding out what happened to his beloved wife.

Then, during a power cut at a Jack L concert where he plans to hand out flyers, Tom finds himself trapped in a lift with three strangers: Jane, an art dealer and single mother of a teenage son; her charismatic artist sister, Elle; and Leslie, a web designer who has withdrawn from the world since losing her entire family to cancer. It turns out Jane and Alexandra were best friends as teenagers, and the three women find themselves helping Tom in his quest. As the trio’s friendship grows and they try to come to terms with the loss of Alexandra, they’re forced to confront their pasts, and face futures that are very different to the ones they imagined a short time ago.

So What If I'm Brokenis a very likable book. The characters are well-drawn and sympathetic, and their development is convincingly drawn; Leslie's transformation from borderline recluse to a woman re-engaged with the world could have been trite, but McPartlin makes it work. Elle is an impressive depiction of someone with bipolar disorder – she's funny and charming, but when depression hits it's anything but romantic. The one exception is Jane and Elle's mother, Rose. She's clearly meant to be a hilariously cantankerous old bat, like Coronation Street's glorious Blanche, but she merely comes across as an unpleasant drunk.

Jack L’s music and the musician himself are recurring themes throughout the book which is, I think, a mistake; the fact that McPartlin and Lukeman are real-life friends makes the constant paeans of praise faintly embarrassing, and those who remain immune to his music are unlikely to be convinced by this gushing tribute. McPartlin also needs more editing. The writing is often sloppy and in some cases painfully overwrought; at one stage, a garda “queries as to whether [Jane] was all right”. What’s wrong with “asked”?

But McPartlin writes about loss and illness, both mental and physical, with insight and compassion, and So What If I'm Brokenis enormously readable, funny and emotionally engaging. It ends on an optimistic but convincing note, and bodes well for McPartlin's future as an author.

Anna Carey is a freelance journalist