In the woodland, beyond the fence, inside the old forester’s hut, Maya and Daughter live in a world of rituals. The fence is secured with “Keep-Safes” – fingernails, Daughter’s first teeth, the umbilical cord that once joined them – to protect them from intruders. While their days are filled with chores, setting traps for rabbits and gathering firewood, every night they play a game they call “This-and-That”, in which they take it in turns to choose an activity – hair-brushing, dancing, copying – before saying their “sorrys and thank yous” in the bed they share.
From the beginning of British author Rowe Irvin’s captivating debut novel, it is clear that Maya has created this life for herself and her daughter – who calls her mother “Myma” – as a refuge from the brutality of the world beyond the fence’s perimeter. Irvin’s tale switches between two narrative strands: present-day chapters narrated by Daughter, a naive, spirited girl who is as much woodland creature as she is person; and more distant sections detailing Maya’s rural upbringing with an alcoholic father and withdrawn mother, and the acts of male violence that led her to flee.
