(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)

For what it's worth, I appreciate the ambitiously poetic goals that Rebecca Gransden was aiming for in her experimental novel anemogram; set in an undated future where something is wrong with the world but is never explained, we learn about this alt-future wasteland through the eyes of a precocious little girl, sort of like The Road meets Beasts of the Southern Wilds. The problem, though, is that such minimalistic, character-heavy prose needs to be used with a light touch, and especially with genre novels needs to be paired with a particularly strong plot where either a lot happens or at least there's a rich universe to explore; but while Gransden certainly does a great job with the "adorable girl" part of "adorable girl wanders around the apocalypse," she almost entirely forgets the "apocalypse" part, setting her story in such vague circumstances that we can barely figure out what's going on, and with so little transpiring that the entire book basically boils down to "girl wanders in the woods, girl has conversation about nothing with random stranger, girl wanders in the woods, girl has conversation about nothing with random stranger," etc. I'm all for bold experiments in style and prose, especially within the context of usually tired genres like post-apocalyptic stories; but without at least a token adherence to the basics of good three-act storytelling, what you essentially have is a 200-page prose poem, fine for what it is but certainly not the book I signed up for when reading the dust jacket. It comes with a limited recommendation today, just for those of you most into precious stylistic experimentation within narrative stories that deliberately make little sense.

Out of 10: 7.5, or 9.0 for fans of prose-poetry ( )

Y’know how with some books, you just keep reading the next bit, and before you know it, what should’ve been thirty minutes’ reading has turned into several hours. This was one of those books. I’ve just raced through it in two sittings.

Sure, there are plenty of questions to be had from the offset, so you want to keep reading to find the answers, but this book is also the exact opposite of using any such devices as cliffhangers. It doesn’t even use a chapter format to enhance the reader’s curiosity. Sure, you’ll keep reading to try to discover more, but above any plot situations, it’s simply Rebecca Gransden’s writing style that will pull you in. It’s actually hard to believe that this is a debut, because the author writes with an expert descriptive panache that will warm you inside and bring a small smile to the corner of your lip, yet you won’t know why you’re smiling. Then you’ll realise that you’re smiling because Gransden’s words are simply: that good! This is up there with those few Indie books I consider to be worthy of mass attention.

Right from the word go, you’re just there. In the story. There’s no lead in. No explanation. You’re just there. When I realised I was already a third of the way through in no time at all, if someone had have asked me, “So, what’s happened?”, the answer would have been, “Not much.” This is a good thing. A very good thing. Not much happens at all, and yet that’s also completely untrue…so much happens that I’m still left pondering on much of it.

The setting alone is brilliantly chosen. The lost little girl protagonist of anemogram survives by living off the land, but in modern England, this means: off the edge of the land. Cities and towns are avoided. Instead, we wander through motorways, construction sites, car parks, drive-thru McDonalds, old shacks and the middle of nowhere. The urban sprawl that has invaded the countryside more and more and continues to do so, plays an important part in this book; just by it being the location.

Innocence. Kindness. Cruelty. Freedom. Childhood. Nature. Human nature. Timelessness. Change. Life. Death. These are just a few words that spring to mind when thinking about anemogram.

There are also a few short stories throughout , told by someone called Tinker; who plays a pivotal, but background, role in this book. These short stories are especially wonderful, and I particularly liked the one about humans and birds living below in the soft mud of the Earth, leaving the trees to claim the topsoil land as its own.

Any negative criticism then? Nope.

Hurry up with the next book please Rebecca. ( )

Anemogram – Engaging, Eerie Mystery

All is mysterious in anemogram by Rebecca Gransden: the obscure/cryptic title (technically a graphical display of wind speed), the ghostlike protagonist, and the poetic writing and evolving story. Gransden employs Mystery to drag you into the protagonist’s journey. “She” is a roaming, young girl. Her history and motivations are unclear. Is she a human orphan? A sprite or spirit guide? Angel or devil? The wind itself? Whatever she is, it seems she is out to harvest stories from abject people, but it is equally possible she has chosen us the “reader” to engage.

It is a dark weird tale. The characterization is compelling; strangely, most of the revealing conversations occur during eating. There is a constant tension between innocence and impending darkness which is played expertly, and intellectual readers may consider this as a homage to the classic The Heavenly Christmas Tree by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1876, available online via the Gutenburg project). Keeping this from a 5-star rating, is the denouement. With all the mystery presented, I did not expect to have all things explained, but I did expect more. The climax brings the right characters to the right place… and I really craved about one more chapter’s worth of the journey. This is an ambitious, well done debut novel. I look forward to more from Rebecca Gransden, especially if there is a follow up to anemogram. This is an excellent tale that will appeal to several genre readers: fantasy, mystery, thrillers.

Excerpt:
“…she turned and headed across open wasteland, into the domain of the sun and its cherishing death. She bobbed up and down and held out her white dress, spinning and drawing in the warm air. Her legs were cherubim podgy and she moved like an electrified hamster. The wasteland contoured down a textured valley which in turn vaulted into the distance and away. She stood in its open magnificence, its blanched earth under the blue-white sky of God. Everything in the distance; she would play unseen. She left her giggles behind her as she took off running. The ground flattened like an ancient seabed and she took her little body over it. She forgot her feet as she chased her own arms down. The surrounding landscape stayed static and true as she fed her hunger for abandonment…” ( )

anemogram. was something of a mystery to me as I read it. The setting seemed surreal and almost apocalyptic as I moved forward, and the characters seemed detached from the real world. For the first bit I didn't quite know what to think, but eventually, it all started coming together.

Once the story gets moving, anemogram. starts to shine. Rebecca's true knack at writing is in vivid descriptions, of both physical things and emotional states.

I'm not quite sure what genre this book would fall in to, but it was an enjoyable read throughout. I'd recommend it to fans of (urban?) fantasy books and those that like their books to put them into a unique environment!

***I received a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review***