Tomorrow, the shortlist for the 2013 Desmond Elliot Prize — an award for new writers — will be announced, so what better time to review Kevin Smith's Jammy Dodger, which is on the longlist?

Black comedy

Set in 198os Belfast, this debut novel is a darkly comic tale about an audacious literary hoax that goes awry.

The narrator is bohemian slacker Artie Conville, who is joint-editor of a poetry magazine called Lyre — and subtitled "A Supplement for the Imagination" — which is funded by quarterly grants from the government aimed at "normalising life in the province". Most of the money goes on booze and long lunches and it allows the pair to drift along without ever having to worry about the usual 9 to 5 regime of normal adult life.

But when the grant money looks like drying up, Artie and his co-editor Oliver Sweeney dream up a rather bold and cheeky way to keep the money coming in — they fill the magazine with poetry they have penned themselves but publish it under a pseudonym. This cunning plan looks to be a success until the powers that be want to meet this new exciting poet in person and have him go on a literary tour around Northern Ireland...

An Irish twist

If you think this sounds strangely like the Ern Malley affair, you'd be right. The book does pretty much mirror the events of a real life literary hoax in 1940s Australia.

But Jammy Dodger gives it an Irish twist and the way that Smith cleverly contrasts the beauty of poetry with the godawful violence of The Troubles — which are only ever mentioned in passing — shows a real flare for black comedy.

Sandwich boards on the pavement outside the newsagent’s proclaimed the day’s headlines: Six Soldiers Killed in Lisburn Bombing, (Long, long the death …), Provos Claim Fun-Run Slaughter, (… Lost lanes of Queen Anne’s lace / And that high-builded cloud …), Ten Civilians Injured In No Warning Blast, (… Moving at summer’s pace.)

Peopled with quirky characters who get dangerously embroiled in a series of strange events, Jammy Dodger is one of those books that is a joy to read.

It's not just the one-liners, of which there are plenty — "‘How’s the wine? Is it amusing?’ he asked, slapping my shoulder. ‘Oh, it’s hilarious. Just don’t get any in your mouth’" — nor the succession of very funny set pieces throughout, but the way it sends up the art world and pokes fun at the whole pretentiousness of literary circles and egotistical writers, including the ways in which certain people are fawned over while talentless wannabes think they are god's gift to literature.

That said, it also reveres and celebrates literature. It name-checks so many classic authors and poets, it's enough to warm the very cockles of your heart. Indeed, if you love poetry and poets, then I doubt you'll find a better novel that celebrates this particular art form. But for me (who doesn't know very much about poetry) I loved the James Joyce references:

After lunch (beans on toast), I continued with Ulysses. God it was intense! Hallucinatory almost. The detail. The energy. The flow. The colours. Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets … Moist pith of farls … the froggreen wormwood … mouths yellowed with the pus of flan Breton … rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer’s ink … sanguineflowered … Old hag with the yellow teeth … Green eyes … the blue fuse burns deadly … orangeblossoms … breeches of silk of whiterose ivory … a dryingline with two crucified shirts … Pure poetry. Every page. Totally absorbed, I read until I realised the afternoon had gone and then feeling thoroughly Bloomish strolled round to Kavanagh’s for a pint and a plate of stew.

The book isn't just a comedy, however. A gentle romance is interwoven into the narrative, which sounds soppy written down like this, but is actually quite touching, because it makes Artie feel like a proper flesh-and-blood character.

On the whole, Jammy Dodger is the kind of novel that might normally have slipped under the radar had it not been for its Desmond Elliot Prize nomination, of which it's a very worthy contender. It's a laugh-out-loud funny satire, sharp and witty one moment, tender and painfully honest the next, all delivered with a lightness of touch that marks Smith as a writer to watch.

I cycled 75 miles (out of a possible 100) on Saturday, camped overnight at Windsor Racecourse, then got up early and cycled 88 miles (out of a possible 88) on Sunday. That's a grand total of 163 miles (262km) and 16 hours in the saddle — no wonder my rear end was sore!

I can honestly say it was the hardest — and possibly loneliest — thing I've ever done, but I got there in the end and I'm ever so grateful to everyone's support, especially those who egged me on via Twitter and Instagram over the weekend whenever I tweeted or posted a picture online.

Thanks, too, to everyone who made a donation to Arthritis Research UK via my fund-raising page — your generosity really warmed my heart. So far the tally stands at £275 (or £336.25 if you include Gift Aid). The page will remain open for another month if you'd like to contribute.

In the meantime, I'm still in recovery mode but hope to resume the usual Reading Matters schedule in the next few days — you have no idea how many book reviews I have to write!

This weekend I'm sacrificing all my reading time by taking on a rather big challenge: I'm attempting to cycle 180 miles around London in a two-day event called MITIE London Revolution and will be covering it on my cycling blog, London Cycling Diary.

Because I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis in 2008, I have decided to raise funds for Arthritis Research UK by taking part in the event.

I know I don't normally talk about other things happening in my life outside of books on Reading Matters, but I'm making an exception this time because I'd really appreciate your help — and encouragement.

I've spent most of this week battling a flare up of my arthritis (after being in remission for about two years) and have been nursing a painfully stiff neck and shoulder, but I'm determined to give this weekend's challenge my best shot and would be very grateful if you would consider sponsoring me.

If you enjoy my reviews on Reading Matters and appreciate all the time and effort that goes in to running this blog on a day-to-day basis, please do consider putting aside the money you might usually spend on purchasing a book and donating it to Arthritis Research UK instead. No donation is too small — and all money goes direct to the charity.

You can find out more and make a donation by visiting my Virgin Money Fund-raising Page.

I'll let you know how it goes briefly on this blog, or check back on London Cycling Diary where I'll be publishing a full report on Monday — let's just hope I won't be doing it from a hospital bed!

• BBC Radio 4 has revamped its Bookclub newsletter to include more bookish news. You can sign up here.

• Jenny Colgan has won Romantic Novel of the Year with Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop of Dreams.

• Europa Editions has launched a new World Noir series.

• Regional winners of the Commonwealth Book Prize have been announced. The main Commonwealth Book Prize will be announced on May 31.  

• A new blog platform designed for booklovers has gone live. More information via the official press release.

Her debut novel, The Burial, which I read and reviewed last month, was shortlisted for the Stella Prize and has been optioned for a feature film by Pure Pictures.

Courtney grew up in the Hunter Valley in NSW. She now lives in an old postmaster’s cottage on the Goulburn River in regional Victoria, where she is working on a new novel.

You can follow her on Twitter @cc_writer.

Without further ado, here are Courtney's Triple Choice Tuesday selections:

A favourite book: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter was published when Carson McCullers was in her early twenties. It was her first novel. All of her books to follow inhabited that same Southern Gothic world, resonant with William Faulkner, who she has been compared to. As Graham Greene described it: “Miss McCullers and perhaps Mr Faulkner are the only writers since the death of D.H. Lawrence with an original poetic sensibility. I prefer Miss McCullers to Mr Faulkner because she writes more clearly; I prefer her to D.H. Lawrence because she has no message.” I’m with Greene on that, on all counts.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter is tender and gentle. I read it once a year and I doubt I will ever tire of reading it. Somehow, as well as holding onto an ability to describe and reveal a character so their impression is indelible, McCullers also invites you to view them softly, to hold them in compassion. Whether it is the 14-year-old Mick Kelly longing to play the piano or Singer “the thin mute” longing for his friend Antonapoulos, all of the characters seek a particular beauty and consolation in an unbeautiful setting.

As a writer, McCullers has a clear-sighted view. She sees what there is to see and at the same time she sees beyond it. There have been attempts to adapt the novel for film and theatre but neither has held the power of the original novel. It seems to me that The Heart is a Lonely Hunter does what only a novel can do: express the complicated yearnings boiling inside the characters, distilling it into poetry.

A book that changed my world: Don’t Take Your Love To Town by Ruby Langford Ginibi

Australians live under many comforting myths and one of them is that Australia is not a racist country. At 17, I had never read anything like Ruby Langford Ginibi’s heartbreaking autobiography, Don’t Take Your Love To Town. It’s a story of five generations of an Aboriginal family told “from her side of the fence”. The author has no need for fiction – there’s enough drama and tragedy to tell in her own life. The language is without affectation and free of sentimentality. The pain is raw and real.

The book takes its title from the Kenny Rogers’ song of the same name and you can hear it playing in the background of Ruby’s chaotic life but perhaps not as loudly as Ruby’s own resistant laugh. She’s intent on living, and living means raising nine children in a country where the race divide is palpable even if it is unspoken. There is hardly a chapter in Don’t Take Your Love to Town that does not feature Ruby giving birth. But then the affirmation of life is short-lived, as many of Ruby’s children die young, making real the statistic that infant mortality is two to three times higher for Aboriginal children as it is for non-Aboriginal children in Australia, even now. For me, reading this book was like an elder coming up behind me and whacking me on the back of the head to say, “Wake up child! This lucky country hasn’t been so lucky for some.”

A book that deserves a wider audience: My Hundred Lovers by Susan Johnson

I read My Hundred Lovers last year during a long winter here where book pages and blogs were unduly fascinated by the success of one erotic fiction title and its spin offs. I wish that title had been My Hundred Lovers. The world might be just a little bit better for it. It wouldn’t be clogged up with sex props or M.O.Us for starters. Because in its telling of the limitless expanse of the sensual life, it is this title (unlike the other which I need not mention) that really is something special.

On the eve of her 50th birthday Deborah reflects on one hundred moments in the life of her physical body. She asks herself: ''What else does the body know? What else does the breathing heart remember?" As the memories unfold, they are not all lovely, not all welcome. Within them are disappointments and despair. But then there is the plain joy of sex, and not just sex but also the pleasure of grass underfoot, a room, language, laughter. There is sweetness and exhilaration. In the way it balances honesty and lyricism to reveal a fuller expression of the sensual life, My Hundred Lovers reminded me of another favourite book: Jeannette Winterson’s Written on The Body. They seem to share an idea that the body is a map, charting where we have ''lived, loved and suffered''.

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Thanks, Courtney, for taking part in my Triple Choice Tuesday!

I, too, love Carson McCullers' The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and can't quite believe she was just 23 when she wrote it. I've not heard of Ruby Langford Ginibi's autobiography before, but it sounds like a powerful read. And I've been keen to read Susan Johnson's novel having much enjoyed her last one, which I reviewed back in 2008.

What do you think of Courtney's choices? Have you read any of these books?

The Burial winners

First, I need to announce the winners of my latest competition. Thanks to the lovely people (hello, Clare and Sam!) at Allen & Unwin UK, I have three copies of Courtney Collins' marvellous debut novel, The Burial, to give away.

I used a list randomiser to choose the winners:

There were 4 items in your list. Here they are in random order:

1. Victoria (Eve's Alexandria)
2. David
3. Kats
4. Alison P

Timestamp: 2013-05-11 11:56:14 UTC

Congratulations to Victoria, David and Kats (and sorry, Alison) — I'll be in touch soon to find out your mailing addresses, which I will then pass on to the publisher, who will send out your books to you shortly.

My ILF donation

Finally, thanks to everyone who actively took part in Australian Literature Month and reviewed so many wonderful Australian books. As you will recall, I promised to donate 50 pence to the Indigenous Literacy Foundation (ILF), a charity which gives books to families in remote communities in Australia, for every review posted during the month. There were 68 reviews listed on my Australian Literature Month review page, which means my donation should be £34, but I've decided to round it up to £40 (which is roughly $60).

According to the ILF, a $20 donation "will buy 3 or more books for an indigenous child living in a remote community", so I figure $60 will buy at least 9 books.

Once again, thanks for everyone's support. OzLitMonth was so much fun I might even do it all again next year!

So, if you are wondering why it has been a little quiet around here lately, I didn't fall off the face of the earth — but I did take myself off to the Greek island of Rhodes for a week of much-needed R&R in the sunshine.

It was absolute bliss to lie by a pool every day reading books. I took a stash of paperbacks and a fully-loaded Kindle and for seven days straight I devoured book after book. My reading was only broken by the occasional dip in the water, a stroll to the poolside bar for my mid-afternoon G&T and a walk along the beach in the evening.

Reading by the pool

Afternoon refreshment

 
I read five-and-a-half books:

Gabriel Weston's Dirty Work, a rather claustrophobic story about an abortion provider in London under investigation by the General Medical Council for a procedure that went wrong. (This one is published next month.)

Lionel Shriver's Big Brother, which explores one man's battle with morbid obesity and its impact on him and his family. It features all Shriver's trademark social commentary and biting wit, but it felt a little too contrived and, if you will excuse the pun, heavy handed to me. Still worth reading, though, especially if you are a fan.

Yan Lianke's Dream of Ding Village, an absolutely compelling but very "icky" and nightmarish story about a village in China devastated by the Aids virus. Not exactly a cheerful holiday read, I must say.

Kevin Smith's Jammy Dodger, an uproariously funny story about a literary hoax in 1990s Belfast. This provided some light relief after three dark books in a row! It has recently been longlisted for the Desmond Elliot Prize.

Chris Ewan's Safe House, an intelligent fast-paced thriller set on the Isle of Man.

I also made very good headway into Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage, which I've been reading all this past week — it's more than 800 pages long — and I have to say I'm absolutely loving it, although it's one of the most heart-breaking novels I've ever read. It's giving Thomas Hardy's Jude the Obscure a run for its money in the emotion department — and that's really saying something.

So what have you been up to while I've been away? Read any good books? Oh, and I haven't forgotten about The Burial giveaway — I'll announce the winners tomorrow.

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The Round House by Louise Erdich
Published by Corsair in hardback and ebook (16 May)

"One Sunday in 1988, thirteen-year-old Joe Coutts learns that his mother has been the victim of a brutal attack by a man on their North Dakota reservation. Joe's mother is traumatized and afraid. She takes to her bed, and refuses to talk to anyone. Meanwhile his father, a tribal judge, endeavours to wrest justice from a situation that defies his keenest efforts; and young Joe's moral and emotional landscape shifts on its child's axis. Frustrated, confused and nursing a complicated fury, Joe sets out with his best friends Cappy, Zack and Angus in search of answers that might put his mother's attacker behind bars — and set his family's world straight again. Or so he hopes."

Louise Erdrich is one of those authors who has been on my radar for years, but I'm yet to try any of her work. I like the sound of The Round House — and by all accounts the critics feel the same. In the US it has already won the National Book Award for fiction.

..............

Little Beauty by Alison Jameson
Published by Doubleday Ireland in paperback (9 May)

"Laura Quinn has spent her life on the remote and beautiful Inis Miol Mor — Whale Island — off the west coast of Ireland. After the death of her parents, and faced with the continuing reluctance of her lover, Martin, to marry her, she realises she needs to leave the island for her life really to begin. She accepts a job as a housekeeper with a wealthy couple on the mainland. But a year later, Laura is back, and this time she is not alone. She has at last found the love of her life: a baby son named Matthew. But what sort of life can an unmarried mother have on a remote Irish island in the 1970s? In this complex situation is revealed a picture of a tightly knit community where Laura inevitably comes under pressure to conform to the rules of society."

Doubleday Ireland is a new imprint by Transworld Publishers, which aims to discover new Irish writers. I've already read its first title — Donal Ryan's The Spinning Heart (which I'm yet to review) — and am looking forward to this one.

..............

A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra
Published by Hogarth in hardback and ebook (16 May)

"In a snow-covered village in Chechnya, eight-year-old Havaa watches from the woods as her father is abducted in the middle of the night by Russian soldiers. Their life-long friend and neighbour, Akhmed, has also been watching, and when he finds Havaa he knows of only one person who might be able to help. For tough-minded doctor Sonja Rabina, it's just another day of trying to keep her bombed-out, abandoned hospital going. When Akhmed arrives with Havaa, asking Sonja for shelter, she has no idea who the pair are and even less desire to take on yet more responsibilities and risk. But over the course of five extraordinary days, Sonja's world will shift on its axis, revealing the intricate pattern of connections that binds these three unlikely companions together and unexpectedly decides their fate."

I've never read anything set in Chechnya and this one appeals even though it doesn't sound like a particularly cheerful story.  And the author has an impressive writing pedigree.

..............

TransAtlantic by Colum McCann
Published by Bloomsbury in hardback and ebook (23 May)

"1919. Emily Ehrlich watches as two young airmen, Alcock and Brown, emerge from the carnage of the First World War to pilot the very first non-stop transatlantic flight from Newfoundland to the west of Ireland. Among the letters being carried on the aircraft is one which will not be opened for almost a hundred years.

"1998. Senator George Mitchell criss-crosses the ocean in search of an elusive Irish peace. How many more bereaved mothers and grandmothers must he meet before an agreement can be reached?

"1845. Frederick Douglass, a black American slave, lands in Ireland to champion ideas of democracy and freedom, only to find a famine unfurling at his feet. On his travels he inspires a young maid to go to New York to embrace a free world, but the land does not always fulfill its promises for her.

"From the violent battlefields of the Civil War to the ice lakes of northern Missouri, it is her youngest daughter Emily who eventually finds her way back to Ireland. Can we pass from the new world to the old? How does the past shape the future?"

Irish writer McCann achieved extraordinary success with his last novel, Let the Great World Spin, which won the 2009 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and a host of others beside. Expectations for this one are, by all accounts, rather high — and judging by the publicity people at Bloomsbury who thrust a copy of this in my hands a couple of months ago, it's an extraordinarily powerful read. I'll let you know what I think in due course...

..............

Big Brother by Lionel Shriver
Published by Harper Collins in hardback and ebook (9 May)

"When Pandora picks up her older brother Edison at her local Iowa airport, she literally doesn’t recognize him. The once slim, hip New York jazz pianist has gained hundreds of pounds. What happened? Soon Edison’s slovenly habits, appalling diet, and know-it-all monologues are driving Pandora and her fitness-freak husband Fletcher insane. After the brother-in-law has more than overstayed his welcome, Fletcher delivers his wife an ultimatum: it’s him or me. Rich with Shriver’s distinctive wit and ferocious energy, Big Brother is about fat: why we overeat and whether extreme diets ever really work. It asks just how much sacrifice we’ll make to save single members of our families, and whether it’s ever possible to save loved ones from themselves."

Shriver may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'm an unashamed fan and have loved everything I've read by her. I love her ferocious mind, her opinionated prose — and her wit.

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The books reviewed this week

In an attempt to wrap up the final 9 days of Australian Literature Month I managed to squeeze in three reviews this week — Wayne Macauley's The Cook, Martin Boyd's The Cardboard Crown and Courtney Collins' The Burial. These books represent the diversity of Australian fiction — one satire, one classic and one "western". Unfortunately, I just haven't had time to review Michelle de Krester's Questions of Travel (I plan on doing that in a week or two), otherwise I could have included one incredibly ambitious "wide-screen" contemporary novel into the mix.

And elsewhere I've been delighted to see so many other Australian books being reviewed around the blogosphere. It's heartening to see so many people enjoying OzLit and spreading the word by writing reviews online. This is a terrific way to let other people know about the range and scope of Australian fiction out there and might just encourage others who have never read an Australian novel to give one (or more!) a go.

Courtney Collins' The Burial is such an extraordinarily powerful book it's hard to believe it was written by a first-time novelist. From the opening line — "If the dirt could speak, whose story would it tell?" — to the closing sentence, I was held in thrall by the exquisite prose, the luscious descriptions of the bush and a cast of curious well-drawn characters. But most of all I was captivated by the storytelling.

Female bushranger

The Burial tells the tale of Jessie Hickman, a female bushranger who rustles horses and duffs cattle, in the years after the Great War. The book opens in dramatic style: she's just given birth to a premature baby while on the run and she's buried it alive.

In a distinctive and unusual twist, it is the dead baby that narrates the story — a literary device that feels more natural and less showy or intrusive than you might initially expect. Indeed, the baby has so much sympathy for her mother, that you immediately warm to Jessie despite her track record as livestock thief, convict and murderer.

Through a series of flashbacks we learn about Jessie's colourful past, which includes a stint as a circus rider and a two-year stretch in prison.  We also learn how she was apprenticed to Fitzgerald "Fitz" Henry, a fiery red-headed man living in a remote valley, to help him break in horses. She later marries Fitz, even though he treats her appallingly and is violent and abusive from the first day they met — any wonder she decides to do him in.

You might like to think of your own mother knitting blankets expanding outwards in all colours while you were in her womb. Or at worst vomiting into buckets. On the eve of my birth, my mother concertinaed my father while I lay inside her. Six foot, eight inches. She brought him down with the blunt side of an axe.

But this is not just Jessie's story — the narrative also covers the two men who are on her trail: the opium-addicted Sergeant Barlow and the aboriginal tracker Jack Brown who secretly knows (and loves) Jessie but never lets on.

Adventure and romance with a Western feel

Part adventure tale, part romance, part Western (but without the gunslinging), The Burial has already earned Collins comparisons with Cormac McCarthy. I haven't read enough of McCarthy's work to tell whether the praise is justified, but I did find it reminiscent of Paulette Jiles' civil war novel Enemy Women, which I loved when I read it more than a decade ago.

There's a beautiful, haunting quality to the writing, which brings to life a diverse range of characters, as well as an Australian landscape of heavily wooded mountains and big open star-filled skies.

And Jessie, who is based on a real female bushranger, is wonderful company: feisty, unafraid, daring and brave.

The Burial is a dazzling book and one that has already garnered critical acclaim and prize nominations aplenty in Australia. It has been optioned for a feature film, which is hardly surprising — Collins writes with an eye for detail without ever losing sense of the bigger picture, which is to tell a dramatic story in a visual and exhilarating way.  It will be published in the UK by Allen and Unwin on May 2.

GIVEAWAY: If you live in the UK and would like to win a copy — I have three to give away — please leave a comment below telling me the name of the county you live in. I'll then draw the winners using a random number generator or some such in a week's time. The usual competition rules apply.

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I read this book as part of Australian Literature Month, which runs throughout April 2013. The idea is to simply celebrate and help promote literature from my homeland and to encourage others to do the same. Anyone can take part. All you need to do is read an Australian book or two, post about Australian literature on your own blog or simply engage in the conversation on this blog and on Twitter using the hashtag #OzLitMonth. If you don't have a blog, don't worry — you just need to be willing to read something by an Australian writer and maybe comment on other people's posts. You can find out more here.