Who’d have thought that going to an art exhibition in Brighton would lead me to one of the best books I’ve read this year? The book in question is ‘ME Caveman you narcissist’ by Steve Attwell and I saw the intriguing cover created by Dan & Serg at their exhibition, ‘Personae‘ a couple of weeks ago.

The story begins with Carl Brooks meeting Bash Doukas after connecting on an app. It starts off well, but following a seemingly innocuous comment over dinner, things take a turn and quickly get weird. In his debut novel, Steve takes us on a rollercoaster of a story that keeps you hooked as Carl is repeatedly drawn back into Bash’s life.

Written in the first person, with judiciously placed flashbacks scattered throughout, we gain insight into how Carl’s past informs his present. Moving from his dysfunctional childhood in South Africa to the UK as an adult, we see Carl navigate life as a gay man in London and then as he escapes the big city for the South Coast. Not only does Steve give Carl a strong voice, but he also has a talent for writing action sequences that put the reader at the very heart of them. This tale is also a lesson in not judging a book by its cover (quite literally) as Carl is presented outwardly as an alpha male ‘caveman’, but at heart he’s a tender and kind man who’s searching for happiness.

Another clever device used throughout this story is the periodic presentation of ‘Narcwatch’, ‘the advice column from hell’ that acts like the unwanted voice inside your head, the devil on your shoulder. The columnist is either a narcissist himself or a victim, and so comes from a knowing and pragmatic place but ultimately it’s unhelpful and potentially destructive.

Whilst this book deals with difficult subjects including child abuse, self-harm and suicide, Steve finds humour in the darkness. I found myself laughing out loud at the most unlikely places, and that’s what gives this story its heart; in order to not let life’s challenges overwhelm us, we have to see the lighter side.

Lately, with LGBTQ+ representation in television, film, and literature, there’s a tendency to either focus on the trauma of being gay or the fairy-tale version, and both these approaches have their place, but this book provides a welcome balance. Steve is speaking about the gay experience in the first quarter of the twenty-first century. There’s also a lot here about mental health and the unique challenges gay men face, especially in 2026.

It would be entirely accurate to describe ‘ME Caveman You narcissist’ as a page turner, and I look forward to Steve’s future work.