Mike Robbins certainly knows how to write, and for a book like this which contains three short novellas, he definitely manages to effortlessly pack a hell of a lot in, with all those important parts of what makes good fiction sewn together: great characterisation, a sense of place - with all its sounds and smells, well constructed stories that go off on tangents but tie together, inserting technical facts which are easily understood by the layman reader, and managing to be both deep and humorous along the way.

To be honest, I didn’t engage with the stories on a personal level quite as much as I did with Robbins’ other two fiction books that I whole heartedly loved reading (‘Dog!’ and ‘The Lost Baggage of Silvia Guzman’), but there is still much to enjoy in these three gentle stories that reflect different facets of English life in the 1980s.

The first story, set in Spring, about the crew of a fishing trawler is a lovely little tale that perhaps epitomises the modern changes of industry and the day to day lives of the working class.

The second, set in Summer, is a great reflection on the newness of middle class Yuppie 80s, where privatisation, property and business took centre stage and turned Great Britain into even more of a Capitalist nightmare, despite the tale being primarily about a right idiot who you’ll love to despise; a brilliantly crafted character, and one of the most memorable from this book.

And the last story, set in Autumn, takes the reader to the upper classes, where an Oxford tutor is forced to return to his youthful past, when his family arrive home with their own problems and ambitions. (A very clever story, where the present, the past, and the settings of two countries are entwined with sheer ease – not an easy thing to do in a story only 80 pages long.)

When I started reading, I wondered why Robbins hadn’t gone the full hog and made this book ‘Four Seasons’ and included winter, but – in my opinion at least – I realised that these three seasons were perfect to reflect the three classes of 80s’ England.

In Spring, there is hope. In summer, there is uncaring. In autumn, there is the eve; the penultimate stage before 90s post-Thatcher Capitalism comes in abundance (where even Derek Trotters yearn to be Yuppies).

But most of all, this book isn’t about Capitalism or Thatcher Britain; it’s just about people. ( )

In Three Seasons Mike Robbins takes us back to the 80s. Not in that detached retro deconstructionist way that makes it look like a plastic paradise to all who never lived through it, but instead to a world of surface promise and ideas too big for its boots, about the disparity between a culture invested in tradition and bygone eras but aiming itself full throttle into the unknown. The novellas contained within this brief collection are very British, but even more English. The mundanity of everyday life and the difficulties of restless egos rub shoulders with those settling for less and others facing disappointment. Tension between generations is perceptively represented. A consistent thread is the undercurrent of background forces, working away without the conscious acknowledgement of the characters. The strength of these stories comes from the author’s detailed observations of human nature and the stage upon which these tales are played out. Everyone has known a Terry Malcolm. I will say no more. I was impressed by how easily the writing flowed and just how vividly I time travelled. Though the stories are satisfying they contain an air of ambiguity that leaves the reader with the sense of a full and rounded world outside of what is on the page.

As an aside, I thought the simple and expressive descriptions of landscape and nature were quite fine.

A rewarding collection, centred on characters penned with an empathetic and sophisticated eye. ( )