The Wood at Midwinter by Susanna Clarke

No one should be surprised: this is a small book, only sixty pages long in a small format with printed boards, like a thousand other small books that sit next to the cash register and promise to be entertaining but not take much of the reader's time. And it does say "a short story" on the cover.

But so many people first encounter books electronically these days. Even if they're getting a physical book to read, they find it on a website and order it to be shipped. As I've said before, online every book is exactly the same size. (They aren't, but taking note of the difference is a knack most people either don't have at all or don't bother to use.)

So plenty of people have been surprised, that a short story - originally written for a BBC Christmas radio broadcast two years ago - is short. They might even be doubly surprised that the last nine pages are an afterword from author Susanna Clarke, meaning the actual story is even shorter than the book that contains it.

The Wood at Midwinter, according to that afterword, is set in the same world as Clarke's big debut novel Jonathan Strange &Mr Norrell. There's nothing in the story itself to prove that, but if the author says so, we have to believe it.

It's the 18th or 19th century, probably - two young sisters are riding in a horse-drawn carriage, in the woods near the city they live in, as the story opens. The sensible one is Ysolde Scot; her sister is Merowdis. (And I think I would be very difficult if the world had saddled me with a name like Merowdis, frankly.)

Merowdis has visions; she doesn't perceive the world like most people and has trouble fitting into society. In a modern context, we'd call her neurodiverse. In this world, there may be a supernatural explanation. She has few life-options in the world she lives in, and none of them appeal: she wants to spend her time with her animals (who talk to her) in the woods. Her sister calls her a saint, and the narrative (and Clarke's afterword) generally agree - or, to be more specific, think that saints are people who don't fit into society, are possibly neurodiverse, and see visions.

She has a dream: she wants a child. But not a human child, and not one, we think, born of her body. She has a vision of the child she will hold one day, in this story. It's so short I won't tell you any details. The actual child is in the future, beyond the story. The story is about learning it will happen, about wanting it and realizing this is a true vision.

Again, this is a short story published as a book. More than that, it's a heavily illustrated short story - the forty-four small pages that contain the story also contain art by Victoria Sawdon, and the art is dominant on many of the pages. (At times, it resembles a picture-book in format.)

It has chilly Clarke prose, a spikily intriguing character in Merowdis, fine atmospheric art by Sawdon, and a seasonally-appropriate mood (I read it on December 29th). As long as you're clear about the size of the whole package, it's a fine little thing.