![]() ![]() It’s an oddly bodily reading experience but this is nothing less than apropos in Armfield’s fiction, the body is a crucible of anxiety and possibility, pregnant with the potential of violent transformation. Flitting between Leah’s travelogue of the doomed voyage and Miri’s grief-tinged present-day narrative, reading Armfield’s book feels like the first gasp of breaking surface in salted water, half-drowned and heavy-limbed. Marine biologist Leah returns to her wife Miri eerily altered, unable to find purchase either on dry land or in their once-swelling romance. With her debut novel, Our Wives Under the Sea, the story of a deep-sea research expedition gone horribly and mysteriously wrong is similarly steeped in this strange enmeshing of fear and yearning. Her first book Salt Slow was a collection of uncanny, bloody, haunting short stories where girls turn to wolves and shadowed ghosts of sleep leave an entire city insomniac. ![]() ![]() Disgusting and thrilling, horrific and tender: this is horror as Armfield sees it – and writes it. ![]()
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