M onths before the publication of his latest book, Max Porter went on holiday with Cillian Murphy and a mutual friend. “I said, ‘I’ve just finished another novel,’” recalls Porter. “And they said, ‘You’ve only just done one.’ I said, ‘Well, I bang them out fast, then edit them slowly.’” He ended up reading it out aloud, giving them their first glimpse into the “sensejumbled” head of a teen delinquent named Shy, resident of a “shite old mansion converted into a school for badly behaved boys in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere”.

Murphy had become close friends with Porter after starring in a stage adaptation of Grief Is the Thing With Feathers, his debut novel. It wasn’t that Porter was angling for another collaboration. On the contrary: “I felt it was unadaptable because of it being a k

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