I was curious about author Rebecca Gransden’s other fiction after having read her surreal science fiction story set in a glass tower, Sea of Glass. Anemogram is at first glance a story about a young child called Sarah on the run, experiencing her surroundings vividly. Around every corner could be either an opportunity, threat, or a chance to learn something new. I’d be careful not to say Sarah was ‘at one with nature’ or that she was an ‘orphan’ as I was uncertain; she wasn’t feral or primitive, though she was perhaps hypersensitive. She had a keen ability to read between the lines and was better at it than the adult men she was adopted by.

The first thing I noticed was that there was more than what meets the eye, as the author is careful not to tell us who Sarah is and where she’s come from, though her impact on the reader is profound. I felt we took the journey with Sarah, back into a childhood most of us have forgotten, on those traffic journeys on hard seats, behind condensed windows, rubbing away sticky fingers, etc.

Praise

I was completely immersed in the story, fascinated by Sarah, David, Mungo, and the intense circumstances, making meaning out of the turns of everyday life and interaction in a way we take for granted. I won’t say any more.

The author has a skill for finding the right adjective that paints a picture of the situation or scene without taking anything away from it:

‘The frog remained still. He poked at it with the point of his shoe. It was fused onto the path.’

‘But rising to a clash of dissonant clang.’

Some passages were heavier to read than the average book, but with a bit of patience you’re rewarded tenfold for taking your time and visualising to get a sense of how things look, feel, and are. I’d say the word ‘surreal’ would describe Anemogram. On my shelf, it’s a book with a specialness I don’t understand but appreciate all the same and the reader may not feel the same afterwards. In this way Anemogram was hypnotic!