Anyone who has ever lived in London will remember with pleasure, I should think, the exquisiteness of the city’s public gardens. From the stretches of commons and parks, to the private squares surrounded by neat rows of grand Georgian houses, all the way to the great expanse of Hampstead Heath, these open spaces offer a quiet retreat from the noise and grime of the city. Of course, it is easy to take these enduring vestiges for granted amid the din of urban life. Yet in, her debut novel, Clay, Melissa Harrison captures not only the fragile balance of life in the city, but the lyrical beauty of nature itself.

The story revolves around three characters – TC, a ten-year-old boy, Sophia, an elderly widow and Jozef, a Polish emigrant. All three occupy the same street in an unnamed London borough, and all share a love for their local park, where, inevitably, their lives entwine. While TC escapes his troubled home-life, Jozef finds comfort amid the trees and green which remind him of his beloved farm in Poland. For Sophia too, the park is a sanctuary, one that reminds her of her late husband, as well as being a place she earnestly wants to share with her granddaughter, Daisy.

While the interwoven lives of the characters (slightly reminiscent of John Lanchester’s Capital) may leave some readers wanting further vindication, it is undoubtedly the park itself that is the most captivating and charming personality in this novel. Harrison’s beautiful expression of the eco-system is as remarkably descriptive as it is perceptive; the changing seasons, the diverse variety of trees and flowers, and the ever-present contingent of owls, squirrels and beetles – she writes brilliantly.

Sitting on the grass, under the shade of a tree, the faint sounds of nature gently humming in the background – this is perfect place to delight in Clay.

Nicole Mansour