Unusually for literary fiction, Alice Robinson’s The Glad Shout opens right in the thick of the action:
Jostled and soaked, copping an elbow to her ribs, smelling wet wool and sweat and the stony creek scent of damp concrete, Isobel grips Shaun’s cold fingers and clamps Matilda to her hip, terrified of losing them in the roiling crowd.
Isobel and her family are escaping a terrible flood ...
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