Precipitation is the fifth in a series of small, illustrated story collections from the independent Manchester based publisher Confingo. Precipitation has three stories of frail characters from the city, faltering in alluring yet foreboding settings. There are echoes of David Constantine’s stories in the nuanced, empathetic characterisations and subtle lyrical handling of dramatic natural elements, the incessant rain falling through the ravines and scarred slopes of West Yorkshire and North Wales.
In the first story, ‘Heavy Showers and Thunder,’ I was initially resistant to the seemingly novelistic back and forth cast of divergent characters, the multi-layered use of shifting time and back story. Within a few pages I was hooked. Luke seeks shelter on a desperate drenched cycle ride in the Calderdale hills with his ex-in-laws George and Barbara. He is escaping his new family home in the city. Middle-class and urban, he is an outsider in the rural landscape, in his ex-in-laws’ small village home. Tightly wrought grievances, social and political differences, and unquenched grief permeate their night together. Their daughter, Cass, Luke’s first wife, had died in a climbing accident years before and Barbara blames Luke. George and Barbara’s teenage granddaughter rarely contacts them anymore, and life hasn’t healed or moved on for them. Fuelled by a few drinks, George conveys Barbara’s resentment and blaming to Luke, who bridles, then retreats to the emotional ‘time-warp’ of Cass’s old moth-infested bedroom.
Ailsa Cox is unafraid of putting a writer centre stage – the frustrated novelist Jason in ‘The Empty Quarter’ and the poet Fleur in ‘Stan’s House.’ Fleur came from Manchester with her partner (outsiders again) to live in Bethel Street, the same fictional Calderdale setting for ‘Heavy Showers and Thunder.’ Initially full of naïve optimism and excitement, the elements and surroundings soon close in and get the better of her. She encounters a malevolent old woman Yvonne, who she christens Miss Havisham. The old lady casts a spell, picking at her vulnerabilities, her aloneness. Initially repelled, Fleur becomes obsessed, her antennae piqued when learning that Yvonne once had a brother, a wild drunken poet called Stan – giving name to ‘Stan’s House.’ Fleur ends up as Yvonne had predicted, alone, when her partner moves out, the two women left somehow invisibly drawn together despite themselves. Stan and Fleur, two failing poets floundering in the exposing elements, also suggested Sylvia Plath’s grave in Calderdale’s Heptonstall, Ted Hughes’ family farm home nestled a mile away amongst the brooding escarpments.
In ‘The Empty Quarter’ a hollowed-out novelist, Jason, can only think to escape his disappointing life and fulfil a long-held longing to reinvoke Wilfred Thesiger’s Arabian journeys, not by visiting there, but by imagining it from the lonely outpost of his writer friend’s neglected Welsh cottage. He loses himself in the mix, the incessant rain and isolation, a backdrop to his imaginary breakouts into the desert.
I was reminded of Tessa Hadley and Alice Munro (and then discovered Ailsa Cox has written a book about Munro) in the psychological depth of her stories that extend well beyond the page, so you think about the characters long after reading about them. So much is left unsaid, shadows creeping in from the past, from complex painful family dynamics. Life and feeling are brought naturally, three-dimensionally into the present, in these fragile characters’ thwarted attempts to maintain relationships, fulfil longings and escape disappointing lives.
Shadowy pasts and character’s yearnings are skilfully invoked by Patricia Farrell’s accompanying black and white illustrations. It’s a wonderful mix and a great collection that left me enthralled and wanting more.
Alan McCormick lives in Wicklow. He writes fiction and memoir. Recent writing has appeared in The Stinging Fly, Banshee, The Lonely Crowd, Exacting Clam, Southword and Culture Matters. His website is here.
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