Georgie Sinclair is a would-be romantic novelist who makes her living writing articles for Adhesives in the Modern World. Her daughter has left home, her teenage son spends his time obsessively surfing Armageddon websites, and her husband has just walked out after a spat over a toothbrush-holder. In her fury, Georgie dumps his ­possessions into a skip. She then watches as an elderly woman in a funny hat comes along and rifles through his vinyl records. This woman turns out to be Naomi Shapiro, a Jewish émigré who lives nearby in a vast, dilapidated and unspeakably filthy house. Mrs Shapiro and her many cats turn out to be just the distraction Georgie needs, and an unlikely friendship springs up. Soon Georgie finds herself struggling to protect Mrs Shapiro from the social workers who want to put her in a home, and the estate agents who want her to sell up and make them rich. She also finds herself unpicking Mrs Shapiro’s complicated life story.

Lewycka made her name with A Short ­History of Tractors in Ukrainian — a quirky debut that turned into a roaring bestseller. We Are All Made of Glue, her third novel, relies on a similar ­formula: serious themes (death, ageing, war, trauma, separation and love) examined with a light touch and a keen sense of the ridiculous.

The humour mostly centres on irreverent old people with funny accents who do quirky things that shake up everybody else’s lives.But there are heavyweight political issues, too: Palestinian-Israeli politics, the Holocaust, religious fundamentalism, socialism, Thatcherism, immigration and much more.

Glue, of course, is the metaphor that pastes these disparate layers together. People, families, friends, lovers are bonded, ripped apart, rebonded, roughed up, stuck with each other and stuck to each other. As the editor of Adhesives in the Modern World puts it: “One of the disadvantages of adhesive ­bonding is that disassembly is usually not possible without destruction of the component parts.” This is a neat and flexible conceit, but it is also wildly overplayed. As the novel progresses it begins to feel as if virtually no episode can pass without having a glue reference slapped on for good measure.

Fortunately, Lewycka’s style is so appealing, so friendly and so basically nice that it is hard to hold much against her. At its best, the wit is spontaneous and low-key. Georgie introduces herself to a Palestinian handyman, Ali, who asks if she’s Jewish. “Yorkshire,” she replied. “It’s almost a religion.” But elsewhere the jokes feel more strained. Georgie observes of Ali: “There was ­something cutely hamster-like…about the way he sometimes confused his ‘p’s and ‘b’s, though I have no evidence that hamsters actually do this.” Occasional girlish observations in diary-style brackets also feel awkward. Observing Ali’s two young relatives, Georgie muses that they are “incredibly handsome in a dark-flashing-eyes white-flashing-teeth kind of way…(Tut. Isn’t this an utterly incorrect stereotype? Get a grip, Georgie.)”. But the ability to laugh through life’s downers is the bedrock of this author’s appeal; perhaps the odd bum note doesn’t matter.

Lewycka is admirably determined to see the big picture: the political, religious or ­ideological conflicts as well as the domestic ones. Given how small-minded so many contemporary novels can be, it seems ­churlish to object to this, but somehow it doesn’t feel entirely convincing. Indeed, it can seem as if the story is being stretched too far to demonstrate a point. For instance, two Palestinians and an Israeli end up sharing a holocaust-survivor’s house. “Maybe we can divide the house between us,” says Chaim. “Next you will build a wall,” says Mr Ali. Georgie sums it up at the end: “Whales and dolphins, Palestinians and Jews, stray cats, rainforests, mansions and mining villages — they’re all interconnected, held together by some mysterious force — call it glue, if you like.” Or, possibly, wishful thinking?

Still, Lewycka’s fondness for eccentric oldies in crazy clothes, who speak oddly but ultimately triumph, is uplifting. She is a warm, humane writer, determined to see the best in us all: even when we behave like idiots.

We Are All Made of Glue by Marina Lewycka
Fig Tree £18.99 pp419

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