A RECENT online Downing Street petition called on the government to make Spandau Ballet's song Gold the national anthem. I mention this not only because those new romantic smoothies and Dan Rhodes share a title in common, but also because the subject sounds like a potential pub quiz question. And the characters in Rhodes's smashing new novel are more than a little fond of pub quizzes. Unsurprising really; as the action takes place in an out-of-season Welsh tourist village, there isn't much else to do. Teams with names like Children From Previous Relationships compete to answer questions such as: "What was the final tally of unfortunate young men to be slaughtered by London-based serial killer Dennis Nielsen?"

Miyuki is a half-Japanese painter and decorator who has spent a fortnight in the village every winter for years. "She didn't come here in search of adventure," explains Rhodes in third person, though in a minor way, she has one. Miyuki's holiday is part of an ongoing plan to keep fresh her romance with her partner, Grindl - they must both spend some time away from each other. So Miyuki is starved of love, but not of food. She survives on a fine selection of the laziest mealsknown:jacketpotatoeswith spaghetti hoops; brown sauce sandwiches.

When Miyuki sees a patch of coastal rock glowing in the sunlight while on a walk, she decides to actually paint it gold. This clandestine art project is discovered in progress one morning by tall Mr Hughes (not "short" MrHughes,whoisadifferentcharacter altogether), a regular at Miyuki's local and something of an expert on alligator trivia.

Seeing the quite beautiful golden rock catalyses a melancholic mood within tall Mr Hughes. When he goes missing, Miyuki fears she might have made tall Mr Hughes suicidal. But then beauty has ever been dangerous in Rhodes's fiction. In his short story collection, Don't Tell Me The Truth About Love, one man has himself turned intoacellotogetclosertoabeautiful musician.

With Gold, Dan Rhodes comes close to perfecting the fragile balance of sadness and humour that has marked out his books as special for some time. On the one hand, he clearly revels in building up characters and incident through tragicomic detail. Look at the love he has for Septic Barry, a mulleted sanitary engineer who hoovers the waste out of the campsite's loos ("A Great Suck-cess since 1994" runs the slogan on his tanker). A serial seducer in spite of hisjobandhaircut,Barryfindsit "harder and hardertogetawaywith describing himself as mid-30s". Equally, a terrible fear of loneliness stalks the pages, a knowledge that love, like the gold paint on the rocks, can be washed away.

At the risk of pushing a metaphor, Miyuki and her creator share one trait at least, in taking the mundane and making it shine. For Miyuki, it's a rock; for Rhodes, it's the sort of sleepy village life that bubbles with emotion under close examination. It's worth stating again - this is a damn funny book. One extended section about a local landlord who, after reading an article on London restaurants, thinks being rude to customers is the key to success, had me snorting like a hippo in mud. Nor will you find a better explanation of why country songs don't sound so good when you're in love. (Pub quiz fans: Dennis Nielsen killed at least 15 victims "for company" if you're still wondering. It's unknown whether he liked country, or indeed, Spandau Ballet.)