This one thankfully wipes out the memory of that other one a few books back and restores my faith in their publishing choices.
This book lives in the hinterland between literary and genre fiction. There's no overt horror, or supernatural going on in this story, but the tone is perfect for a really creepy horror story.
Our unnamed first person narrator travels to a chalet in a decaying seaside town for a break from his existence.
He sees a woman standing in the dunes near his chalet. Then she turns and wallks away. There's no clue where she disappeared to or who she was. His meetings with a few of the locals add more layers to the mystery of who she was,
The sense of deacay and sadness almost radiates from the page. The mannered prose conjures an atmosphere of something not quite right, although what that something is isn't at all obvious.
The atmosphere may be ominous throughout, but there's very little drama in the story. Not much happens at all Even for a 90 page novella, it's short on incident. That's not to say it's boring, at no point can that be given as a criticism. but the whole thing feels quite slight once it's over, which is a shame because I really enjoyed reading it.
One thing that did bug me... he stays in this chalet for at least six weeks. It has no running water. the only source of water is a nearby standpipe. Also no electric or gas. I found myself wondering where he relieved himself, and how did he cook all the supplies he bought in the local shop.
Minor criticisms aside, I would actually recommend this quite highly. It's a well written contemplative and atmospheric piece of fiction. We feel as lost as the nameless narrator throughout, with time blurring much the same way as the sea blurs with the sky on the horizon of the view from his dilpidated chalet.
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