I read with delight Mr Bolye’s previous memoir, Galloway Street, becoming a real fan of its tenderness and touching, humourous observations. For me, the first book dealt with the forming of a consciousness; Laff is more the forming of the man’s character. The book’s first part is full of numerous glances and glimpses, both wily and wounding, of different individuals and various adolescent grief; the second half takes over from the layered set-up and delivers a focused, richly emotional journey toward tragedy and liberation, with lyrical touches we’ve come to expect from this author, and an ending that sends the spirit zooming off along with the writer’s.