When a character begins his research by climbing to his Madrid roof and smoking a spliff with his morning espresso, I’ve found a kind of pal. When the prose stumbles over all of the familiar humiliation, neurosis and alienation of living abroad, I feel at home. And when the language flits around so effortlessly, despite the protagonist’s privilege, despite his snotty attitude and his I’m-the-center-of-this-world ethos, I’m impressed. One of the best of 2012.