DD JOHNSTON, one of this country’s most principled socialist novelists, is also one of the most versatile and talented around.

His back catalogue includes the harsh realism of Peace, Love & Petrol Bombs and the vaulting cleverness of The Deconstruction of Professor Thrub yet his latest book is as different to those two as they are to each other.

The Secret Baby Room is a thriller set on a new Manchester estate being built on the remains of older, non-gentrified communities who have much to hide and Johnston creates a vivid sense of place as the new buildings create uneasy intersections with the one remaining but condemned tower block, the old pre-war church house and various flyovers and pathways.

Implicit social observations mirror this sense of change being imposed on communities by the bullying rich and their client law-enforcers who worry more about protecting the Establishment’s reputation than taking the concerns of citizens seriously.

Johnston is too adept a storyteller to fall into agitprop-style prose and he almost incidentally reveals a fragmenting society dominated by despair and exploitation yet also the resourcefulness and courage of working-class citizens who survive where others would surely crack.

The problem with the novel lies in its uneven characterisation, typified by Claire Wilson who — emotionally vulnerable after a miscarriage — is uncommonly implacable in pursuing her belief that she spotted a woman and young baby in Sighthill Tower.

Her conviction leads her, and those around her, into increasing levels of derring-do, culminating in a frankly unrealistic and made-for-television ending.

Through Claire’s eyes we get to meet a pentagram-obsessed white witch and her gauche husband, an obviously violent brute made good and Seth, a residential care worker by day and a nuanced graffiti artist at night.

Some of these characters ring true, others less so, with the most memorable being Claire’s neighbour Lianne, who’s struggling to overcome an abusive and violent past.

This is not a bad book, far from it. Yet unlike Johnston’s previous output, it just doesn’t quite manage to convince as a complete offering.