The Water That May Come

The downstairs room at Lark Books in Lincoln was already warm with bookish expectation when the audience reverberated with a low, knowing laugh. On the very day Amy Lilwall was formerly launching her novel The Water That May Come the first named UK storm of the 2025 season, Storm Amy, barrelled its way across the country’s weather maps.

It was the kind of coincidence publicists dream about and authors dread – too on-the-nose to mention, too irresistible to ignore. In my mind it was the kind of fortuitous occasion when art, life and the elements fall into poetic alignment.

Inside, 40 people and a table stacked with freshly printed paperbacks, while outside rain needled the windows, a ready-made metaphor for a book that asks us to measure ourselves against waters that may (or may not) rise.

The evening was guided by Robert Weston, Lilwall’s creative writing colleague at the University of Lincoln, who set a generous tone. He opened with the book’s audacious prologue – told from the point of view of a ‘personified’ volcano – and praised the novel’s “writerly” confidence.

Lilwall, candid and quick to deflate her own mystique, described the prologue as a “prettified info-dump”, before explaining how the science had shifted in development. The idea first clung to the Canary Islands but an editor’s nudge and further research pulled the scenario to Iceland, where warming and glacial rebound render volcanic unrest more than just a gothic flourish. The move matters because it turned a what-if disaster premise into something more contemporary – ‘cli-fi’, if you can cope with that term. And, crucially, made it more political.

That doubleness – the volcano as a foreboding, scene setting character against the background of the climate crisis – runs through the novel’s preoccupations with The Water That May Come tracking four people as Britain looks seawards and flinches. 

Pinko, a rich heir who mistakes decadence for a plan; Jane, a veterinary nurse from a two-up, two-down who is thinking fast because circumstances give her no other choice; Ashleigh, her teenage daughter on the cusp of motherhood; and Gavin, a young artist whose hunches are humble and human-scale.

What gives the book its bite is not apocalypse-as-a-spectacle but pressure-as-a-test. Lilwall is less interested in the bang than in the slow tightening of rules and norms that precede it – the grey zone where everyone is still watching EastEnders and eating beans on toast while new forms of bureaucracy quietly harden around them.

She spoke about “intimacy laws” that haunt the book’s world: couples seeking to migrate are compelled to have intercourse in front of a jury to prove their relationship is “real”. It’s an absurdist idea – she cites the spirit of Lanthimos’s The Lobster – but offers it in deadly seriousness as a mirror to the way asylum processes already strips people naked, demanding testimony of trauma as an admission fee. The extremity shocks precisely because it feels like an extrapolation of something we live with today and forces us into the uncomfortable subjunctive of her title.

Migration is the engine not just backdrop decor for this story. One of Lilwall’s neat reversals is to flip the current right-wing Channel rhetoric by making refugees of Britons and then following the moral and domestic triage that results. Class is the fault line – Pinko has options money can buy; Jane has relationships and wits with little margin for error. The gap between a Tunbridge Wells mansion and a council house in Sittingbourne, Kent, isn’t just scenery, it’s what determines who gets on which boat (or helicopter) and at what cost.

When Rob recalled a line he loved, “Feminism leaves Jane like a stolen soul” you could feel the room register how the book sticks pins in the soft language of principle. Principles are easy in peacetime but much harder when water laps at the door.

Lilwall was frank about the imaginative leap required to write Jane, a character far from her own demographic experience. She didn’t do “fieldwork” in the extractive sense (no interviews to stitch into authenticity). Instead, she built Jane from careful observation and empathy, and – crucially – left space for Jane’s self-awareness. The character knows what she’s doing, knows the compromises and self-bargains she’s making, and the book refuses to judge her for surviving.

A reading from the opening chapter threaded humour through the gloom, and the crowd – students, colleagues, readers – was up for it. A running joke about Paris, the dog (spoiler alert: yes, the dog makes it), gave the evening a pressure-release valve. But even the comedy slides against the grain of the themes.

In a conversation about whether anyone, faced with the end of things, would shrug and “drink all the champagne”, Lilwall argued her characters can’t so easily shed who they are. Even when the world is tilting, habits, loyalties and self-concepts resist – and that friction is where novelistic interest lives.

Publishing, too, is part of the climate of a book, and Lilwall was generous about the process. The Water That May Come is from Manchester-based Fly on the Wall Press, a small imprint with an appetite for political fiction and a knack for turning nimbleness into care.

The book was only accepted for publication in September 2024 and its release this October was speedy by industry standards, going through three rounds of development edits and two rounds of proofs, according to Lilwall.

That blend of speed and rigour shows on the page – a four-character chorus that is ambitious in structure but never confusing; a prose clarity that lets the ethical puzzles shine. The press’s own positioning is plain: political fiction with feminist and quirky undertones, social action in the bloodstream and carbon-neutral production – northern publishing with a point of view.

If you’re looking for a tidy category on your bookshelf, the publisher offers “a rare blend of speculative fiction and literary realism”, in the lineage of The High House and The Last Day. But Lilwall’s novel also feels like it belongs to a different, increasingly visible slot: climate novels about the bit before. Not the catastrophe itself but the time when catastrophe is a credible rumour. Not the fire or flood but the weeks before when people move photo albums upstairs and quietly price life rafts.

The book’s fundamental question – what do you do before the worst happens? – is political because our answers have consequences beyond ourselves. It’s also intimate, because those answers are made one kitchen conversation at a time.

In that sense, the Lincoln Book Festival and Lark Books was exactly the right venue for this launch. Independent bookshops are civic spaces as much as retail rooms, places where a town or city rehearses how it will talk to itself. Watching students lean forward during the Q&A to puzzle over voice, process, responsibility – and to ask how you keep faith with a project over eight years – you could feel the wider frame of the UK migration debate refracted through crafted questions rather than sound-bite slogans. Literature won’t settle policy, but it can make the policy personal enough to resist caricature.

Lilwall hinted, mischievously, at a sister novel – characters glimpsed here stepping forward elsewhere, Paris-the-dog included. The room perked up at the promise of “more naughtiness”, which felt right because the work of dark times needn’t always be sombre. And if there’s a line that does the best job of bottling the book’s moral weather, it’s the one Fly on the Wall chose to trail with its publicity: “In a future where we all may become refugees, how far would you go to stay afloat?”

Walking out at the end of the evening – leaving Lilwall grinning with relief aside a dwindling stack of first edition paperbacks – the rain had eased to a fine mist. It felt like the right departure note for a launch about imminence: no drama, just a change you notice on your skin the second you step into it.

The evening had made me think again about the soft power of fiction, where it dares to be timely without being didactic. If the migration debate in Britain is too often shouted across the gap between myth and data, between right and left, Lilwall’s approach is to tighten the shot, to make the choice a reader’s and to make the river a street you know.

The Water That May Come is a novel of thresholds: between land and sea, between safety and risk, between who you think you are and what you do next. It is also, thankfully, a book with a sense of the ridiculous that keeps you human.

On a night when a namesake storm knocked on the windows, Amy Lilwall offered the kind of story that respects both your intelligence and your fear. The water, like the future, “may come” but the better question is: who do we become while we’re waiting?

  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

ISBN: 9781915789440
RRP: £12.99

A year of reading dangerously

BOOKS it seems have been more popular than ever during 2020 as many people re-discovered reading during the lockdown and restrictions of the Covid-19 pandemic of the year. And so here is my own top ten of the year just past.

I haven’t rated them in any order, other than alphabetically by author surname, as that would seem a bit unfair because they are quite a disparate collection and I have enjoyed them all equally but for different reasons.

It is, however, appropriate that Sir David Attenborough’s A Life on Our Planet heads the list as this is probably the most important statement about our future if we are to do anything to avoid a catastrophic future.

I’d also like to point out that, part from those I received direct from publishers for review purposes as part of my work, the others were purchased from  local independent bookstores.

For each of the books listed below I’ve given a brief summary taken from a longer review and, if there is one, a link to the online review.

A Life on Our Planet - David Attenborough
The fascinating life- journey of  Sir David Attenborough unfolds chapter by chapter in ‘A Life on Our Planet'. It's an accessible, timely nicely written book, full of the wisdom and optimism for both now and the future against the backdrop of his own life adventures.

Dark Skies  -Tiffany Francis
Francis explores nocturnal landscapes and investigates how our experiences of the night-time world have permeated our history, folklore, science, geography, art and literature. I love the fact too that she brings to life many familiar and beautiful parts of the UK, not least when she writes about Buster Hill in Hampshire, still one of my favourite walking locations.   

The Mission of a Lifetime - Basil Hero
A thought-provoking book chronicling the lives and lessons of the 12 Apollo astronauts whom Hero calls ‘The Eagles’. In sharing their wisdom he urges us to reframe our view of Earth: no identifiable nations, borders or races. Each chapter begins with key life lessons that readers can gain from the moon walkers, from overcoming fear to finding gratitude and practising humility in all that you do.“What all Eagles agree on is that, when viewed from the deadness of the Moon, life on Earth is a miracle, a living paradise that much of humanity has failed to respect and care for.”

The Wall - John Lancaster
A middle England dystopia for our fractured and uncertain times, and the only novel in my top ten. A thrillingly apposite allegory of broken Britain that asks key questions about the choice between personal freedom and national interest. A hypnotic work about a broken world you might recognise and about what might be found when all is lost. 

Incandescent - Anne Levin
The thrust of Levin’s book is that natural light (and dark) is fundamental to almost every aspect of life on Earth, interacting with humans and animals in profound yet subtle ways. “We mess with the eternal rhythm of dawn-day-dusk-night at our peril,” she writes. “But mess with it we have, and we still don't truly understand the consequences.” Click here for my longer review.

Our Final Warning - Mark Lynas
Along with Attenborough and Wallis-Wells, this was my third book of the year looking at different aspects of climate change and how we might deal with it if not already too late. In essence, it is a digest version of enormous amounts of climate science papers published in the world’s best journals over recent years. Lynas tries to be hopeful at the end, arguing that everyone should now be fighting against climate change, much like we have done for Covid-19.
    
Limitless - Tim Peake
As a journalist writing about space, I've been fortunate enough to have followed closely his rise into the world of astronauts and space stations, so I was unsure what I might make of this latest astronaut tome. But I need not have worried. A captivating read and eloquently told. It also turned out that for six months or so in the late 1990s I actually worked alongside Tim Peake’s Dad, Nigel, who was Features Editor at the Portsmouth Evening News. Such a small world, isn't it?

The Fens - Francis Pryor
A fascinating account of a complex landscape by archaeologist Francis Pryor who has dug and worked its soil for almost 40 years. Weaving together strands of archaeology, history and personal experience, he paints an intimate portrait of the East of England's marshy and mysterious Fenland. Particularly interesting for someone who grew up in The Fens and now lives along the western edge close to Roman King Street.   

The Uninhabitable Earth - David Wallis-Wells  
A grim book which expands on a viral article of the same name, published in New York in the summer of 2017 and which frightened the life out of everyone who read it. It’s essentially about the harsh realities and impacts of climate change and, as Wallace-Wells points out, the bigger problem is the vast number of people (and governments) who acknowledge the true scale of the problem but continue to act as if it’s not happening.

The Salt Path - Raynor Winn
An honest and life-affirming true story of coming to terms with grief and the healing power of the natural world. Ultimately, it is a portrayal of home, and how it can be lost, rebuilt and rediscovered in the most unexpected ways. I enjoyed every page of this remarkable and very human journey around the coast of Cornwall. 

Happy reading!

PS - by late 2023, the Lighthouse Keeper plans to have completed and published his own first novel - for a sneak preview see the webpage Flood Waters Down

'Booking' the trend

A couple who have lived in Bourne all their lives are throwing open the doors this weekend to their dream - a new independent bookshop for the town.

Karen and Peter Smith have invested a significant amount of their personal savings into their Bourne Bookshop venture, which is located in the town’s Burghley Centre.

We’re excited it has finally come to fruition,” says Karen, who previously worked for a local agricultural firm and will be the shop’s full-time manager. She expects to employ two or three part-time staff.

“I love meeting people and have always enjoyed books so this is the perfect combination for me,” she adds.

Bourne Bookshop joins a growing number of successful, independent bookshops across the country that are bucking the trend for ebooks and online purchasing.

“Things have come full circle and people increasingly want to read real, printed books and browse before they buy,” explains Karen.

“We really want to make it work and have been overwhelmed by all the messages of support we’ve had from local people while preparing the shop.”

Karen and Peter took a long time to find exactly the right premises with good footfall and were supported in their quest by InvestSK.

“We are very happy with our location in the Burgley Centre,” says Peter, who has three grown-up children and one grandchild.

He plans to support Karen on the business side and in the shop at weekends but will continue his job as a market development manager for a national agricultural firm.

“It’s around five years since there was a bookshop in Bourne and we decided now was the time to plug this gap in the local market,” said Peter.

"This is an independent family business and we are treating it as a serious business venture," he added.

The shop will only sell brand new books, along with a few other specialist lines including jigsaws and some children’s toys.

“We'll have about 2,000 fiction and non-fiction books in stock at any one time covering all genres, as well as a good children's section," says Karen.

"We'll also have a next-day ordering service and, as things develop, will adjust the range of titles we stock according to what our customers like and ask for.”

The shop had two preview open days during the Bourne Cicle Festival weekend and is being officially opened by Coun Brenda Johnson, the Mayor of Bourne, this Saturday (7 September) at 9 am.

Initially it will be open six days a week between 9 am and 6 pm but Karen says opening times may become more flexible, according to customer needs.

“We'll also be looking to open on Sundays and some late evenings, especially at times of the year like the run up to Christmas.”

Jon Hinde, head of economy and skills at InvestSK, said: "It's a great boost to the town to have another new independent retailer on the high street, and one that provides an offer not currently available.

“This will help to increase footfall in Bourne while also diversifying the current offering in the Burghley Centre and town as a whole."

Opened in 1989, Bourne's Burghley Centre has undergone a new lease of life in recent years.
As well as a variety of independent shops it is now home to several big high street names including a Marks & Spencer foodstore, Specsavers and Subway.


 Article written for Stamford Mercury newspaper - Bourne bookshop set to open on Saturday

Ship of the Fens

THERE are times when embarking on a journey or overnight stay one is lucky enough to come across not one but several unexpected gems which combine to make such a visit to a new place so much more enjoyable and worthwhile.

A recent trip to Ely in the heart of the Cambridgeshire Fens proved one such occasion. This ancient Fenland outpost, founded on a lump of conglomerate rock rising incongruously above the surrounding flat land is, of course, most famous for its almighty and imposing cathedral.

Mindful of the notional nature of a fleeting visit and our proximity at the time to the town of Stamford in Lincolnshire, it seemed that a cross-country train would be the ideal point from which to commence this mini-vacation. We alighted from the gently curving platform at Stamford’s neatly styled stone-built railway station and were soon rattling our way towards Peterborough alongside the main East Coast line which runs between London and Edinburgh.

Peterborough, one of the country’s fastest growing cities, straddles flat fen countryside to the east, while its western reaches extend into the pleasant and picturesque rolling landscape of the Nene valley. A junction of styles and ambitions, the city often feels like a contradiction - a dual-personality crossover of ancient and new, still defending its ancient coaching past as a stopover on the old Great North Road while also being home for modern-day commuters who flit backwards and forwards to the capital by high speed train.

After a brief stop at the newly re-modelled station our Stansted-bound train splits off on a spur to the east and is soon trundling across a flat, diminutive and featureless countryside. The monotonous mono-culture fields that characterise this region and seem to reach as far as the sky, are punctuated by extensive drainage systems with their horizon-defining banks and lone, singular roads appearing from nowhere to intersect the railway.

This late September morning was overcast and grey, offering an indistinct backdrop for the intense arable farming, the murky appearance of which was compounded by greasy and dirst smeared train windows. Soon the line passed through the town of March, which was once the county town of the Isle of Ely until the latter ceased to exist by government decree in 1965. Just a few minutes later the distant cathedral of Ely looms on the closing horizon like some giant alien artefact.

Our short journey through big skies across a bereft landscape has been as stale as the air on this cramped and fusty train that plies its way daily, back and forth between the city of Birmingham and Stansted airport. The sun extends a gentile welcome as the coaches slow into Ely’s business-like station which, with its multiple platforms, is a busy cross-country junction linking Norwich, Cambridge, Peterborough and Birmingham with London.

So what of the gem-like discoveries? Well, first and for such a small place, there is much within Ely that could easily fit the category, not least the stunning architecture of the cathedral itself.

But for now, we are seeking out something on a smaller scale that might otherwise slip by unnoticed. Topping & Company is a suitably fitting name for any high street shop and once inside you can see why the crime author Alexander McCall Smith described it as “the best bookshop in the world”.

For the book lover or casual shopper it is three floors of literary and tactile delight, where serious browsers are afforded complementary coffee, served from a cafetiere in china cups all set on a neat wooden tray.

Beside the second floor window was a small wooden table and chairs where one can sip coffee and repose in literary paradise, surrounded by the smell of book print and with a tantalising view across the street to the cathedral spires and ramparts. There is no sterility here - Toppings is a treasure.

If this is more than a fleeting, day-time visit there ise plenty of overnight accommodation to choose from and nowhere is a more welcoming option than "Peacock’s Tearoom and Fine B&B", just a stone’s throw from the River Ouse and its boating community.

As the name helpfully suggests, this is a traditional English tearoom - tasteful, sumptuous and quirky, with a hint of French eccentricity, all of which makes it popular with locals and visitors alike.

Peacocks is run by the charming George Peacock, a criminal defence lawyer in another life, and his  wife Rachel. More recently they converted the upstairs of the two joined up 1800s cottages into a couple of delightful bed and breakfast suites, each with its own private sitting room, separate bedroom and pleasant facilities.

Peacocks exudes character and charm - overflowing book cases, comfortable old chairs, antique furniture and a restored market trolley doubling as a coffee table. This really is English bed and breakfast as it should be.

Pick the day of your visit to Ely wisely and you can also enjoy the city’s lively, traditional market on Thursdays and Saturdays, along with eclectic craft, flower and food stalls on occasional Sundays through the year.

On non-market days, however, the large, block-paved square is rather featureless and seems surplus to requirements - bland, unimaginative modernity contrasting starkly with the magnificent stonework and intrinsic creativity of the city’s cathedral - a true ‘Ship of the Fens’ dating back to 672 AD when St Etheldreda first built an Abbey Church on the site.

Words and photos: Clive Simpson