This Party's Got To Stop shares the cool, spare prose of Thomson's novels, but also their sense of unease and at times almost hallucinatory clarity. Thomson turns this on an examination of parts of his life, and the lives of his siblings, in this memoir.
It's not an autobiography. The book starts with the death of his mother when Thomson was young, but then jumps forward years to the death of his father. Thomson returns from Berlin to the family house in Eastbourne, and ends up living in the house with his two brothers for months, drinking, falling out, coming to terms with their father's death, drinking, smashing up furniture with an axe, working their way through his medicine cabinet, and making arrangements for the house and everything in it.
Although the book is centred around two deaths - and, because it was sudden and young, the death of his mother runs through the book more profoundly than the death of his father - it's not a constantly grim read. Thomson explores grief with his usual attentive and precise understanding, but there's a lot of laughter to be had in his equally precise dissection of the craziness at the heart of so many family relationships, and of the odd relations that populate every family tree.
In the aftermath of his father's death, Thomson and his brother Ralph fall out, and don't speak for over twenty years. The last part of the book sees Thomson getting back in touch, and visiting his brother in Shanghai. There are no neat, all-wrapped up endings in Thomson's books - he's not that kind of writer - and the same is true with This Party's Got To Stop - but the reunion with his brother wraps around Thomson's searching (with no particular thing to really find) for his mother in a way that colours everything that you have read to that point.
Thomson writes that at the time he wanted to follow Tobias Wolff's advice: "Catch yourself in the act of being human." He did, in a way that few writers can.