I’ve noticed that other early reviews of this book have focused almost entirely on the story after it moves to Winterfall Farm, but I’d just like to linger a little on the book’s earlier chapters – the family complexities that bring Kit and Tara together, Jeremy a significant other to their relationship. One of the author’s strengths has always been her exceptional characterisation – while the couple’s chosen lifestyle wasn’t something I found particularly easy to identify with, the emotional issues around their family relationships are never anything but searingly real, and at times acutely painful.
And that strength in characterisation is perhaps even more striking when the group – the blurb calls them “group of friends”, but their diversity and differing backgrounds makes it rather more complicated than that – take up the opportunity to live off-grid at the farmhouse on the wilds of Bodmin Moor. The relationships between them are fascinating, and Kit and Tara’s own relationship continues to play out and develop – with the added joy and complication of young daughter Skye, and the idyllic childhood their new lifestyle offers her – against the testing early days of self-sufficient and communal living.
The writing – always taut and spare, every word carefully chosen and loaded with meaning – moves from the excitement of their new adventure (and it’s joyful and rather wonderful in the summer sunshine – I was ready to don my rainbow clothing, tie ribbons on my dreads, and travel to join them) to the point where the tears in the fabric of their new lives begin to become evident. The whole idea of complete self-sufficiency is an intoxicating one – but it doesn’t prevent them craving a hot bath or a working heating system when the golden sunny days are over, or the availability of conventional medicine rather than the dubious contents of Mary’s cupboard in the kitchen.
At first, the equilibrium of the group is disturbed by the arrival of Dani – little more than a child, with a disturbing and emotional back story of her own of domestic violence and life on the streets – causing ripples and more than a touch of conflict. And then Jeremy’s behaviour becomes a cause of concern, when he begins to emerge – slowly and insidiously – as the collective’s leader, imposing his ideas on the group, his behaviour increasingly bizarre. There’s a steady and inexorable escalation in tension – palpable as it builds via a series of twists and turns to a stunning climax, followed by a calmer (and particularly satisfying) rounding off of the story in the present day.
The writing is, as always, quite wonderful. I very much liked the three voices who told the story – Tara and Dani in the first person, Kit in the third person so keeping you always a little removed from his thoughts and feelings. And there were other characters in the collective – every one of them a well-drawn individual – that I rather took to my heart. The setting is vividly detailed and recreated – as well as the descriptions the author unfailingly excels at, the book is filled with moments I felt I was part of. I also thought the story was perfectly paced – the paving of the way into the story, the brief idyll, then becoming increasingly claustrophobic as the tension and darkness builds and the cracks begin to appear.
In essence, the story is about the impossibility of creating Utopia – once you add people, and human nature comes into play, it’s doomed to failure. So you always rather know how the adventure is likely to end – but experiencing the steps along the way made this book a thoroughly compelling read, and I was entirely engaged throughout by the complexity of its characters and the emotional aspects of their journey. An unforgettable read – and one I’d highly recommend.