Nicholls is careful to give us more than the occasional hint that Douglas's problems expressing his emotions stem from his own father's failings but, admirably, this is never overstated – or offered as any kind of excuse. (He reassured me that I didn't but I was so overcome by Douglas's inability to express what he was really thinking that I couldn't take any chances so apologised anyway). On this front, Us is so powerful that I couldn't help thinking back over every remark and look I threw at my dad as a teenager and even felt compelled to phone him up to ask if I had anything to apologise for. But the novel also explores the regret he feels as he acknowledges the mistakes he made as a father and how he gradually came to adopt the persona of the sour, stuffy and slightly disapproving dad. Nicholls brilliantly captures Douglas's pain when faced with nothing but disdain, disrespect and derision from a son he loves so much. His attempts to win back his wife's love are often very moving, but for me it's his perspective on his relationship with his teenage son that provides the novel's most heartbreaking scenes.

Despite my best efforts, I found myself feeling a huge bond with Douglas and rooting for him from the start. 'Oh come on!' I want to scream in his face, 'How difficult can it be? You just move your lips and speak the words you're thinking!' But reading Us, for the first time I appreciated how self-expression might come easily to a writer like me but could seem almost impossible to a man who's never been taught how to vocalise the intensity of the love he feels. I don't mind admitting that I usually struggle to feel anything but impatience for the kind of man who can't express his emotions. And not only that but the voice of Douglas is so strong that it immediately engages our empathy.

Of course, aspects of their story may seem perfectly ordinary but the novel's central voice is so terrifically written it never fails to grip the reader.

One Day by David Nicholls