ONE week until Christmas, and barely a gift has been bought. There are good reasons for this, but none that will placate those who won’t be amused to receive a tangerine and an IOU. For anyone in a similar position, or who wishes to give the fictional equivalent of a tangerine – colourful, delicious, full of seasonal cheer – you could do no better than William Boyd’s latest work. The Dreams of Bethany Mellmoth is Boyd in mischievous mode, as entertaining, and insightful, as he knows how. So well and pacily written, these stories slip down like a velvety wine, but their seemingly effortless style hides Boyd’s consummate mastery of the art of storytelling.

A collection of seven stories, the one from which the book takes its title is almost a novella, as is The Vanishing Game: An Adventure, a Buchanesque road-trip that unfolds on the Scottish west coast. First, however, for the properly short stories. Throwing darts at the pretensions, deceits and lies of his often reprehensible characters, Boyd begins with The Man Who Liked Kissing Women. In this jeu d’esprit, he lampoons a loathsome Lothario who has modified his adulterous habits only in order to hold onto his third wife, seemingly unaware that betrayal is betrayal.

Closer to home, In Humiliation, and its spiritual twin Unsent Letters, Boyd allows the reader a glimpse of the author’s life. The first, set in the early 1950s, is recounted by an embittered novelist, who has not only been cuckolded and recently divorced, but — far worse — crushed by a savage review of his new book. This vicious critique, by a man called Raleigh Maltravers — devotees of Boyd could guess at his role from the name alone — has resulted in “the sudden, brutal auto-da-fe of my long-nurtured reputation”. Phrases such as “A talent so nugatory it casts not the faintest shadow” haunt him as he embarks on a trip around rural France, for a travel book commission, grudgingly undertaken to pay the bills. When Maltravers appears one evening in the same hotel, the opportunity for revenge proves irresistible. As is the glee with which the tale is written.

Meanwhile, decades later, the producer in Unsent Letters, is trying to make a film of that very same ill-received novel. Told in letters and emails, the sort written in the heat of the moment, it is a yowl of pain against those who steal girlfriends, jobs, pride, and against a system that reduces individuals to anonymous dust. “Dear Meryl,” it begins. “We haven’t met but...” “Dear Mr Macfarlane, You call yourself a banker, you little man. Worse, you call yourself a ‘personal’ banker, and yet you hide and cower behind the faceless law...”. Learning that Boyd often writes tirades which his wife persuades him not to send, adds to the piquancy.

In Camp K101, the only sombre card in the pack, Boyd shows a young man’s need to be kind, and make a difference, even though the odds are stacked against him. A UN soldier from Germany, sent to Africa, Jurgen befriends a wounded chimpanzee, only for his interest in it to lead to its death. This story is rich in the detail of a continent Boyd knows well — “darkness arrived like a door slamming” — but also in the inchoate emotional needs of the young, who are finding their footing in difficult circumstances.

That too is the thread that runs through The Dreams of Bethany Mellmoth, the long narrative that binds the book. In his heroine’s rootless exploits, Boyd allows himself licence to roam. As always, his female protagonist is not a man’s idea of a woman, but a fully-fledged, contradictory, charming, innocent, worldly-wise and dream-filled twenty-something, on the cusp of adulthood. First she tries to be an actress, then wonders about becoming a singer, but all along she is busily planning a novel. As the months unfold, and with them a series of hopeless boyfriends, and a vain father far less mature than she is, the reader is drawn into Bethany’ world, and the anxiety and courage it takes to find one’s true path — indeed any path — through life.

The Vanishing Game is less profound, but its shallowness is a delight. Actor Alec Dunbar turns up for a London audition, to discover they were expecting a woman called Alexa. When the producer wishes him well — “Take great care” — he does not pay heed as he should. Reeling from the mistake, he uncharacteristically accepts an offer from a fellow thespian who says she will pay him £1000 to transport a bottle of water — from the River Jordan — to the west coast of Scotland, for her godson’s baptism. Initially this seems a windfall, until, as he sets off for an overnight drive north, Alec realises he is being followed.

What ensues is cleverly judged, a combination of character, action, and comedy. In every situation, Alec turns to previous film roles for help and inspiration, be it in lighting a fire and sleeping rough, or creating a diversion to thwart the enemy. The first hint that he carries a survival guide in his head comes when he steps into the 4x4 his benefactress has lent him: “I’d driven a Land Rover Defender in Delta Five Niner, an SAS, behind-enemy-lines film (I played a sergeant) that was never released, not even as a DVD. ‘Straight to radio,’ as we say in the business.” And straight under the Christmas tree, as they say in mine.

The Dreams of Bethany Mellmoth by William Boyd is published by Viking, priced £14.99