In the woods surrounding a bucolic English village, Dead Papa Toothwort has woken from his long slumber and is listening to all the villagers… (This may well be the least helpful synopsis I have ever written, but I’m finding it impossible to succinctly summarise this book.)

What an absolute little gem this was, but it’s also difficult to discuss or describe without spoilers, so this will be a rather vague review. To be frank, I wasn’t quite sure what was going on at the start, but I just surrendered to it, letting the writing wash over me and carry me along, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. The writing is remarkable - it’s poetic and lyrical and utterly entrancing, but also incisive. In few words, Porter manages to perfectly capture the village community and the goings-on beneath its bucolic appearance, but he also distills so much of human nature, some of which is characteristic to small village life - the gossip, attitudes towards perceived outsiders - and some more universal, though ramped up by the setting - the slipperiness of acceptance and belonging, the ease with which people turn to accusation and criticism and how suspicion lingers. The story also encompasses the rural idyll, our relationship to nature, our expectations of children, childhood wonder - there’s a lot packed into under 200 pages, yet it all melds together effortlessly into a beautiful, heart-breaking story. A stunningly-written little gem, exploring human nature and so much more.