Andy Miller

It goes through each month of the year, the sort of ritual of each month, but also the kind of the landscape, the changing landscape, the changing animals.

At the centre of the story, there's a sort of love affair.

She discovers what we can only assume is the ghost of a Civil War soldier.

who is rather brilliantly called Wyman Elvis.

He's a kind of saviour figure, like a Christ-like figure, and love me tender is the burden of his kind of philosophy and wisdom.

I know that all sounds very weird, but actually it's brilliantly done, channeling

A bit of Ridley Walker.

There are links, I think, with Max Porter's Lanny as well.

If I read you just two little tiny bits, you can get give you the flavour of it.

This is on Underwellam is the village that she lives in, which is which is good fun.

And I'll read it in my attempt at a Dorset dialect.

Don't at me if I get it wrong.

Thou village in a hag-ridden hollow.

All ways to it winding, all roads to it narrow.

Overlooked bog, veiled in fog.

Thirt over, under cretin, rank with seepings.

Jays, fluids, slurry, sweat and pus.

Anus, grease, squirters, jizz and blood.

You don't really need that translating.

It reminds me also, there's a brilliant Jonathan Mead's collection of stories called Filthy English.