In spring 1962, however, Kumpfm?r’s womanising, alcoholic bed salesman, Heinrich Hampel, does the unthinkable: he flees for the East. “He won’t have to hang himself over there, but in the West he would.”

Michael Kumpfm?r has written a novel in reverse. Born in the East, he moves with his family to the West in 1951 There the boom years see him right He joins Franz Beds and Bedding and doubles the turnover. The secret of his success is his understanding of women, with whom he likes to test the springs of new beds.But when Hampel opens his own outlet, he is unable to compete with Germany’s raging economy or keep up with the desires of his wife, Rosa, and Bella, his mistress. He runs up a huge debt and escapes, leaving responsibilities and a trail of whisky as he heads east.Soon, he’s up to his old tricks Rosa follows him, offering one of many last chances Hampel takes it, and a new mistress. For work, he first delivers bread and acts as a Stasi snitch, but turns to trading black-market goods, because “even here in the East, almost everyone had something to sell or wanted to buy something”.

Not unlike in the capitalist West, where for Hampel both material and sexual consumption are a necessary distraction.Once again massively in debt, he is deemed a “rudiment of the old society”, and sentenced to 1,000 days in prison There he remains, an apolitical fool. It seems Hampel is unlikely ever to change, but where he doesn’t learn, others might.Apparently, Hampel bears a close relation to one of Kumpfm?r’s uncles, who died an alcoholic’s death in the East. Whether that’s true or not, Kumpfm?r harbours the sensitivity of a writer who knows his subject – although some German critics considered him, being a so-called “Wessi”, unqualified to write about the East.Anthea Bell’s faithful translation of his rolling reported speech is a triumph, yet certain subtleties are lost from the original. These are, for one, far more the escapes and scrapes than the adventures of a bed salesman.

Tragedy shades this often comic story of a man forever on the run. Hampel, the old scoundrel, will seduce you with the tale of his “pitiful but very nice” life.. Offered the chance to trade in your tired old frame for a fit young body, who wouldn’t be interested? Adam, a successful writer in his mid-sixties with a bad back, an ulcer and cataracts, finds himself drawn to the proposal. Obtaining his wife’s blessing for a “six-month sabbatical”, Adam secretly has the operation. The specifics are not dwelt on (this is not hard SF) but he emerges a Newbody.

It’s here that the tension between who Adam is and who he appears to be becomes most compelling, as he fields the awkward attentions of an anxious poet and submits to the sexual voracity of Patricia, the “wise woman”.There are frequent reminders of Adam’s situation – he can’t explain a scar, didn’t know his ear was pierced – but still we forget from time to time that he’s a 60-odd-year-old in the body of a young man. Thus are we led to reflect on the ageing process and the transience of life, Adam having elected to be a Newbody for just six months before returning to live out his days in his old shell. The central, fantastical device of The Body allows Kureishi to uncover numerous insights into the gulfs between young and old, men and women, gays and straights – and sets up the funniest knob gag in contemporary British fiction.If the short story, as a viable form, survives its current perceived crisis, Faber will be one of the few publishers we have to thank. It continues to publish collections by American and European authors, among them Kureishi – one of the most accomplished practitioners of the form.