Oh, what a glorious book. I adored Tom’s previous, equally idiosyncratic novel Villager, and was looking forward to this immensely.

Eric, approaching 70, spends his time buying and selling vintage vinyl and walking the green woods and hills of south west England. He is accompanied on these walks by his best friend of 20-plus years, Carl. 

Carl is a fan of the novels of Anita Brookner, Rosamond Lehmann, and Barbara Kingsolver, a keen knitter, a very capable gardener, and most people encounter him in the form of a very handsome dog.

This wonderful and original book is a rich and warm celebration of friendship and life as it is lived, the small joys and the could have beens and never weres that can make it all such a tantalisingly magical ride.

As we move through the gears and pendulums of Eric and Carl’s friendship Cox, with touching insight and humour, explores the enchantments in our relationship to each other, the land, nature, and history.

Following the life of Eric from young hopeful guitarist in the 60s to his current (literally and figuratively) rambling existence, Cox offers his perspective on the social changes during these times and honours those who secede from the norms and find their own way in life.

The book almost glows as you read it - the radiance of a bruised and dented group of friends finding and celebrating the best in each other. It’s a glow like nostalgia, an undefinable bittersweet sense of comfort, but this is not a nostalgic book. It’s a book about loving the now of your life, informed and shaped as it is by moments you treasure, regret, misremember, or have entirely forgotten.

Be in it, for it is all we have.

Finishing this book felt as satisfying as the rattle and knock of a Morton Flickpot.

A signed copy is now on order for my wife, who I am sure will love it as much as I.

Could be my last 5/5 of 2024…