But right now, they are refreshing to see, and are key to how Farrant injects new life into an old form. Of course, it is impossible to know how well such cultural and technological references will date. And if it is disconcerting for this reviewer to find the mid-90s treated as an ancient historical period, well, that is itself true to contemporary teen experience. Even Blue's parents' back story feels spot-on (met at Glastonbury in the mid-90s, bonded over a Tarantino double bill). Her London is lived-in and solid: the Notting Hill cafes, the anarchic free school, the claustrophobic tube ride. 'I've seen Juno, I've read Dear Nobody.'įarrant's depiction of the wider context also feels very real. This is a story where teenage girls don't face vampires, but use Twilight to think about real life where teen pregnancy is understood primarily through films and books. Her cultural references are telling and accessible. And if Farrant's writing never goes as deep, emotionally, as McKay's or Smith's, it is in the depiction of this fabric that she excels. It is not a surface detail it is part of the fabric of her characters' world. It is hard to think of another writer for young readers who represents technology so seamlessly and vividly. At 13, Blue is just starting down that path: getting her first Facebook friend requests, negotiating the question of whether you can be 'friends' with someone you are not friends with.

The web is an integral part of Flora's life, and, at 16, she can never escape it. The family see more of their mother on Skype than in reality and when Blue's older sister Flora starts going out with the boy Blue loves, his friends write provocative comments about Flora on his Facebook wall, and upload an unflattering video of her to YouTube. By the end, you feel as though you have actually seen a film, as well as been privy to Blue's inner thoughts.

The alternation of screenplay format and diary prose allows Farrant to juxtapose telling external details with moments of deep interiority.

The camera is a powerful formal device in this book, and it is maintained throughout. Or, with the flick of a button, you can switch it off. As she says: 'Inside the camera, the world is limited to what you can see through the viewfinder. Her twin sister (the Iris of the title) died in an accident three years ago, and no one has yet dealt with it – least of all Blue, who hides behind her camera, distancing herself from a painful, overwhelming reality.

After iris by natasha farrant