Genre fiction often lacks quality of writing; so-called "literary" fiction often lacks quality of story-telling. Seven Tales of Sex and Death manages to lack both.

The idea behind this book is a good one: a "literary" author turning her writing and characterisation skills to plot-based stories. An attempt to reinvent the cliches of genre fiction with a literary touch.

Unfortunately the warning signs are clear in the opening "Author's Note". Duncker talks of conceiving Seven Tales as a "literary response" to late night B-movies she watches whilst trying to fall asleep. Her discussion of the cliches of genre makes it clear that she has no respect for her sources. She sees them only as a way of amusing herself and seeing how many people she can shock or impress.

The result is a set of seven stories that fail in almost every possible way.

Take the first story in this collection, Stalker. This begins intriguingly enough as an account of a woman who is - or might be - the victim of a stalker. The first person viewpoint promises a revealing insight into the mind of a woman is either being stalked and enjoying it - or simply inventing a stalker. Unfortunately Duncker feels the need to over-complicate things with a bewildering plot shift involving the death of a celebrity and the main character's falsely insinuating herself into her social circle.

A writer more skilled at plotting could have taken this somewhere interesting, Duncker doesn't even bother. Instead she wastes chunks of space with an excursion into archaeology that is intended only to prove how clever she is. Those who normally read "literary" fiction will no doubt nod wisely at this part of the story whilst those of us who read plot-based fiction are not expected to notice the unsubtle links to Greek mythology.

The second story, Sophie Walters Shaw, is a similar pointless exploration of genre cliches: in this case sex and pornography. Here Duncker wastes the potential of the setting in a vain attempt to shock - and to impress once again with her knowledge of Ovid.

The rest of the stories follow a similar pattern: Take a genre cliche and rewrite it badly, throwing in clever references and/or gratuitous sex and violence. That way all your literary friends will know that you haven't really stooped to writing plot-based fiction and you can all have a good laugh about it at the next prize ceremony.

Genre fiction can be written well and also contain subtle literary references - see Hanif Kureishi's science fiction novella The Body for an example. Plot-based writing deserves better than this contemptuous abuse.

In writing Seven Tales of Sex and Death Duncker has failed to fake an understanding of the genres she is spoofing. She has failed to fake sympathy with plot-based fiction. Above all else she has failed to fake sincerity.