You know when a book is so arresting, so captivating, that you have to actively seek alone time just to think about it - to luxuriate in the characters in all their charm and humour and sadness and confusion, a book that makes you look at the world differently, literally tilts the axis of your perception, while at the same time cranking open your heart and letting the whole world pour in, a book that manages to explain the infinite singularity of the whole universe just through the telling of a few years of a boys life? Yeah. Donal Ryan. Where Are The Kings. This is that book. Not sure I’ll ever get over it.