“Beyond Black” refers to the spirit world, which is a quite literal place in Hilary Mantel’s latest novel. Medium and clairvoyant Alison Hart, an affectionate showman and therapist on stage, is a fat, likeable, and unassuming guide through England’s psychic fairs and spiritual consultations. As she sorts through the liars and imposters among the dead “occasionally some oddball breaks through saying he’s Jesus. But I don’t know…there’ll be something in his manner – you just know he’s not from ancient Palestine,” the narration, at once deadpan and surprisingly lyrical, skewers how we treat, react to, and experience memory. The implications of being dead and being able to converse with the dead carry the same trivialities and swipes of cruelty as in being alive. Just because people happen to be dead doesn’t mean they’re aren’t confused, or even tricky and low.

Spanning seven years, from the death of Princess Di (who makes a brief “Oh, fuckerama!” appearance from the beyond), to the present day, the novel follows Alison’s relationship with her “spirit guide,” Morris, a criminal and a fiend who slinks around toilets, the track, and “an old-style wooden draining board, reeking, mouldy, sodden to the touch…his natural home. He insinuated himself through the spongy fibres and lay there breathing wetly, puffing through his mouth and snorting through his nose.” Morris, before he died, was one of the many lowlifes Alison knew as a child; Alison takes the brunt of the psychic blows as she attempts to recall a traumatic childhood of abuse and neglect. As she tries to remember the fate of the murderers, thieves, and abusers who slept with her mother and which one of them could be her father, seedy and cruel entities gather to her. She tries to have nice thoughts, but can she help it if her memories are all snips and snails and puppy dog tails?

Colette, the thin, efficient, rather acerbic woman who becomes Alison’s manager is another important relationship in the novel. On Colette’s mind is her abandoned marriage and Alison’s tremendous weight (not necessarily in that order). Colette speaks her mind (figuring Alison’s bound to read her thoughts anyway) and believes in Alison’s psychic abilities without ever really connecting to what any of it means. When the two move to “nowhere,” a McMansion where even the spirits aren’t interesting in settling, Colette’s retreat into heartlessness becomes apparent. Beyond Black is worthy of admiration. There is a riveting amount of detail and a brutal integrity to this book. Psychologically suspenseful and fanned by the wry humor, intelligence, and scope of a seasoned novelist, it makes for an alternately dark and rollicking read.