Kay's latest novel (her third) turns around the impossibility of ever honestly knowing another person, and she delights in subverting our expectations . . . Kay's portrait of Stephen as a hollow man is masterful: the slow accumulation of aberrant actions - barely detectable at first but building to a tidal wave that sweeps all before it - offers a brilliant depiction of how a person can go quietly, invisibly mad . . . The writing is spare and vivid, and Kay's dreary depiction of the early Eighties, with its Wimpy bars and stickily carpeted pubs, is superbly atmospheric. (Sarah Crown Daily Telegraph)
'[Kay] is fascinated by ambiguity, the party wall that cleaves private and public worlds. Her third novel shares the lyricism that distinguished her prize-winning debut, An Equal Stillness, and its successor, The Translation of the Bones, which explores a Marian miracle and the psychology of delusion...Where the novel most succeeds is in its representation of a solipsistic consciousness, searching for a communion beyond communication.' (Stevie Davies Guardian)
'Kay has an evocative was with period and social detail...the result is an unexpectedly compelling read that closes in, like a poetic bad dream, towards the all-too-foreseeable end.' (Phil Baker Sunday Times)
'Francesca Kay has done her period research ("he sought distractions - food, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on television") and this psychological thriller hinges on a clever idea: Stephen falls in love with a woman from her voice on the taped calls.' (Isabel Berwick Financial Times)
Perhaps it's the time period, possibly it's Kay's elegant classicism, but The Long Room seems like the sort of novel that might have won the Booker around 1981. It says much about the author's acute sensitivity to the minutiae of human behaviour that it wouldn't look out of place in 2016. (James Kidd Independent)