Just finished reading Tim Lebbon's new novella
In some ways it expands on themes in his earlier novel The Nature of Balance: a fascination with the conflict between the wild and the domestic, a distrust that the thoroughly tamed countryside of England isn't really just waiting for a chance to revert into an atavistic hell entirely hostile to man. I don't think an American would approach it in quite the same way since we still live in a country where bears can maul us in our own kitchens.
But the novel is far more about the authenticating act of memory and - in a loving tribute to the homebrews of England - the way alcohol can be as genuine a sacrament in the search for our past as a madelein dipped in tea.