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The Inaugural Nationwide Butterfly Vote OpensFor the first time, the charity Butterfly Conservation has opened a public poll to decide which of the 60 native species will be crowned Britain’s favourite butterfly. The vote runs until 7 June and is being promoted as a celebration of the country’s long‑standing affection for these insects.Poll Mechanics and Participation Figures60 species eligible, ranging from the iconic purple emperor to the once‑common small tortoiseshell.Voting is hosted at britainsfavouritebutterfly.co.uk and is free for anyone in the UK.A recent Butterfly Conservation survey identified butterflies as the most‑loved childhood creatures, providing a strong base of potential voters.Why the Vote Matters for ConservationThe poll builds on previous citizen‑science initiatives such as the Big Butterfly Count and the “favourite bird” competition, turning public enthusiasm into measurable support for habitat protection. By highlighting species that are thriving (e.g., the purple emperor) alongside those in decline (e.g., the small tortoiseshell), the campaign aims to channel attention and donations toward targeted conservation actions.Potential Outcomes and Future ImplicationsBeyond the headline winner, the vote is expected to generate:Increased traffic to Butterfly Conservation’s educational resources.Higher volunteer sign‑up rates for upcoming counts and habitat‑restoration projects.Data that could inform policymakers about public priorities when allocating funding for biodiversity.Looking Ahead: What Comes After the Vote?After the poll closes on 7 June, the charity plans to publish a “Britain’s Favourite Butterfly” report, featuring regional breakdowns and recommendations for protecting the highlighted species. The momentum may also inspire similar polls for other invertebrates, reinforcing the role of citizen engagement in the UK’s broader environmental strategy.

The Cultural Phenomenon Returns On a chilly morning at a Silvertown studio behind London City airport, the sunburst intro to Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come is on repeat. Dancers run through a routine studded with reggae and dancehall moves. "Get high," commands associate choreographer Neisha-yen Jones with a smile. "Get low!" The ensemble rise and dip. They do the bogle and whine around each other as their watchful director Matthew Xia nods along. They circle Natey Jones who breaks out the opening line: "Well, they tell me of a pie up in the sky." In the distance, a plane leaves the ground. From Film to Theatrical Celebration It's eight months since The Harder They Come's full-throttle takeoff at Stratford East, where the musical was so popular that it is now returning for a second run which will also serve as a eulogy for Cliff who died in November. Playwright Suzan-Lori Parks' adaptation of Perry Henzell's 1972 Jamaican film is bolstered by a handful of her own songs as well as classics including Israelites and Wonderful World, Beautiful People – plus every number on the film's monumental soundtrack. Jones is reprising the role of Ivan (played on screen by Cliff and inspired by real-life outlaw Rhyging), who arrives in Kingston from the country and is dismissed and exploited, before becoming both a hit singer and a fugitive. The Evolution of a Cultural Narrative The original was akin to cinéma vérité, directly evoked spaghetti westerns and veered into blaxploitation territory; Ivan's tale has gained greater warmth, humour and protest spirit on stage. It was the best musical I saw in 2025. "The story is a tragedy but the theatrical event is a celebration," says Xia of his production. Twenty years ago, the film was adapted as a musical with a book by Henzell, also at Stratford East. "It all started at Ivan's Nine Night," Xia recalls. "There was a massive poster of Ivan on the wall, with everyone coming, and it was told in retrospect with vignettes." Choreography and Cultural Connection Shelley Maxwell, recently arrived from Jamaica, was watching the musical in the audience one night and has since become the choreographer of the new production. She has fused the folk dance forms of revivalism and pocomania, learned in her childhood, with reggae, dancehall and moves that today's teenagers can recognise. "I wanted to tap into the youth market," she says. It's brought some enthusiastic feedback from audience members who may not know the film. "Like: 'Oh my God, they did that step I always do at a party!' It allows them to form a connection." Authenticity and Cultural Representation Xia, wearing trainers in the Jamaican flag's colours, and Maxwell, whose tracksuit has the same black, green and gold trim, were intent on instantly transporting their audience to Kingston. The opening, says the director, is an "establishing shot" with characters coming and going on Simon Kenny's magnificent multi-level set, accompanied by Toots and the Maytals' hit Funky Kingston. To borrow from its lyrics, you really can believe everything they do. Even each move in the dominoes game we see is scripted, explains Maxwell, who mapped out the market scene with precision: "Where are you going to? How heavy is the item that you're holding? This is the swing of the hips." Social Commentary Through Performance Xia, whose father came to England from Jamaica in the 1970s, praises the freewheeling realism of the film. "Lots of the background performers are just whoever happened to be in the market that day, or walking through the shantytown. Lots of the actors were people that Perry knew, they had no training." Henzell, says Xia, showed "the part of Jamaica that had always been hidden, people living hand to mouth". The musical depicts a "quartet of oppression" against Ivan, as he takes a stand against individuals representing hypocrisies of the church, law, drugs trade and music industry. Universal Themes and Contemporary Relevance The Harder They Come was both a pioneering example of independent film-making for Jamaicans and a portrait of a newly independent country. Maxwell, who grew up glued to Hollywood musicals, says it was empowering to discover a film full of the Jamaican songs she loved. "I was probably way too young when I saw it. But what I saw was the world around me." She traces how different forms of music played a pivotal part in the country establishing its identity, moving from African forms and American R&B; to mento, ska, rocksteady, reggae and the rise of Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff. Maxwell captures that chain reaction with a tantalizing question: "What's this groove becoming?" Transforming the Narrative for Modern Audiences The musical also makes its hero's actions more understandable. "In the film, Ivan becomes a kind of wanton murderer," says Xia. In the musical, "he accidentally shoots a police officer when he's under threat, is remorseful, yet also knows that if he gives himself in then that's the end of his journey". Another significant change is the depth given to the principal women – Ivan's mother Daisy and Elsa, with whom he falls in love under the eye of her authoritarian guardian, the preacher. "The moral heart of the piece now resides in those two women," says Xia. Maxwell transforms a brief sequence from the film, in which Ivan imagines a tryst with the devout Elsa, into a floor-trembling set piece when the preacher's congregation lose their robes to indulge in lustful fantasy. The male gaze of the original scene is duly excised: "it had to be like it was both of them in partnership in that fantasy world," says Maxwell, who adds that the nature of dancehall – "grinding, gyrating on another body" required her to use her skillset as an intimacy director.

Study Shows Fetal Exposure to Vegetable Flavours Influences Post‑Birth PreferencesThe research team gave pregnant volunteers powdered kale or carrot capsules during the third trimester and later measured their children’s facial reactions to the same smells. Reactions were recorded via ultrasound before birth, repeated at three weeks, and again when the children were about three years old.Methodology: Kale and Carrot Powder Capsules Administered to Expectant MothersParticipants were asked to swallow a capsule each day containing either kale or carrot powder. The study avoided large volumes of juice, which many volunteers found unpalatable, opting for a low‑cost capsule format.Capsules administered in late pregnancy (around 32 weeks gestation).Initial chemosensory response captured with ultrasound imaging.Follow‑up assessments at 3 weeks and 3 years post‑birth.Sample Size and Observed Reactions Reveal Early Flavor MemoryAlthough the cohort was modest, the findings were consistent:12 children were observed at age three.Infants exposed to carrot powder smiled when presented with a carrot scent and grimaced at kale, and vice‑versa for the kale group.The same preference pattern was evident in the ultrasound scans before birth.These results suggest that flavour exposure in utero can create a durable chemosensory memory.Potential Public‑Health Benefits of Early Dietary ConditioningIf replicated on a larger scale, the approach could offer a low‑cost strategy for improving population nutrition:Reducing childhood resistance to vegetables may lower long‑term risks of obesity and diet‑related diseases.Capsules are inexpensive and could be integrated into routine prenatal supplements.The concept is adaptable to different cultural diets, as noted by the researchers’ interest in fish‑rich Japanese diets.Next Steps: Larger Trials and Cross‑Cultural ApplicationsThe authors acknowledge the need for a bigger, funded study to confirm the effect across diverse populations. Future research aims to:Expand the sample size to hundreds of mother‑child pairs.Test additional flavours and odourants, including artificial sweeteners.Explore policy pathways for incorporating flavour‑exposure capsules into prenatal care guidelines.Published in Developmental Psychobiology, the paper titled “Do Human Fetuses Form Long‑Lasting Chemosensory Memories?” opens a new avenue for early nutritional interventions.

The Artist's Monument to Forgotten WorkersAn air of civilisational wipeout hangs over the Gehrenseestrasse complex, an abandoned housing estate on the north-eastern outskirts of Berlin, where the city still looks shabby without the chic. The insides of the nine prefabricated blocks have long been gutted; six floors of empty window frames stare hollow-eyed over multi-lane carriageways. In the courtyard, paintballers have left behind wooden barricades from when they played at World War III.Yet in one of the second-floor rooms of Berlin's largest ruin, artist Sung Tieu is waltzing across the concrete floor and reliving scenes from her childhood. "Here was the single bed I shared with my mother for three years," she says, pointing into a corner of the small room. "Two metres by 90cm, can you believe it?" There in the corridor is where her neighbours used to make bánh bao dumplings on camping stoves, for lack of private kitchens. "I still remember the smell." Here was the door through which she used to entertain her best friend when his mother locked him in during working hours. "We played cards through the gaps," she recalls with glee.But she also still remembers where neo-Nazis tried to throw molotov cocktails into the building: "They eventually set up a net because the windows kept on getting smashed".The Mosaic Recreation of a Lost CommunityThese days, few people have heard of the Gehrenseestrasse complex, whose last tenants left in 2002. But if Tieu had her say, it would be as essential a stop on the tourist trail as the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag or Checkpoint Charlie. There is, in her view, no place that better tells the story of the Vertragsarbeiter generation – the oft-forgotten workers who were hired on fixed-term contracts from socialist "brother states" in Vietnam, Mozambique, Angola or Cuba to boost the East German economy. "To me, this place is a monument," says Tieu.By the end of this summer, many more people in Germany – and art enthusiasts around the globe – will know about her childhood home. For this year's Venice Biennale, Tieu has clad the German pavilion with a like-for-like replica of the complex's facade, recreating the grey concrete and smudges of graffiti with three million mosaic stones made in Ravenna. She conceived the pavilion in tandem with the artist Henrike Naumann, who died in February from cancer aged only 41.Bureaucracy as Artistic MediumThe woman I meet at a Vietnamese restaurant in Berlin's Lichtenberg district is the antithesis of that exoticised cliche: modest, dressed all in black, analytical in her answers to my questions. She talks me dispassionately through the more experimental food options on the menu, but comes alive when explaining bilateral treaties and labour regulation."I really try to avoid the pure post-migrant diaspora narratives. By focusing on individual experience you can lose sight of the bigger picture. Contracts, state treaties, floorplans – that's what I am interested in. There has to be a certain formal toughness."Looking through her catalogue raisonné you are reminded of Marcel Duchamp. You see an artist dedicating her career to seeking ever more minimalist ways to express the same idea, from Cubist painting to readymade to annotations of chess moves. And in Tieu's case, that big idea is bureaucracy. In 2015, she reprogrammed the scrolling LED displays at a shop inside the Dong Xuan Centre, Berlin's largest Asian market, to display the texts of immigration treaties. For a group show at Berlin's Haus der Kulturen der Welt in 2024, she transcribed by hand documents from the national archives on the East German porcelain industry, authenticating them with her own ornamental stamp. Her website, fittingly, is just a long index of file names and a deadpan biography section: "Sung Tieu is an artist."Childhood Trauma and Artistic Vision"I think it's also a childhood trauma," she says when I ask her where her interest in bureaucracy comes from. "I've had to fill out forms for my mother since I was five, since she didn't speak any German. And by the time I was seven my German was better than hers. Bureaucracy was part of my childhood – I studied politics and administration because I wanted to understand it."Born in 1987 in Hai Duong, northern Vietnam, Tieu moved with her mother to what was by then the formerly socialist East German regions in 1992. They were joining up with her father, who had moved to the GDR five years earlier via a bilateral agreement for factory workers from the socialist republic.Initially announced in the romantic spirit of ideological solidarity, the treaty between the two states soon became a more hard-nosed deal, addressing ongoing labour shortages in East Germany while helping to rebuild a war-ravaged Vietnam, which took a...The Legacy of Forgotten WorkersTechnically there was no racism in the GDR, because it wasn't documented. But of course it always existed. This is the uncomfortable truth that Tieu's installation confronts – the erasure of immigrant experiences in official narratives, even as these workers were essential to East Germany's economy.Through her art, Tieu transforms personal memory into collective history, giving voice to the thousands of contract workers who built East Germany but were never fully acknowledged as part of its society. The Venice Biennale installation, with its meticulous recreation of a housing complex that many would prefer to forget, serves as both memorial and critique – a reminder that the stories of immigrants are integral to understanding modern Germany.The Future of Migration Narratives in ArtAs Europe continues to grapple with questions of migration and identity, artists like Sung Tieu are pioneering new forms of expression that move beyond personal stories to examine the structures and systems that shape immigrant experiences. By focusing on bureaucracy, architecture, and official documents, Tieu creates art that is both deeply personal and universally relevant.The Venice Biennale platform ensures that these often-overlooked histories reach a global audience, challenging visitors to reconsider their understanding of migration, labor, and belonging. As Tieu continues her exploration of these themes, we can expect more installations that transform bureaucratic systems into powerful artistic statements, creating spaces where the voices of the marginalized can be heard and remembered.

The Film's Unique Narrative Structure Directed by Patrick Leung, Ciao UFO is a Hong Kong drama that employs a non-linear narrative, jumping between different time frames. The film follows a group of childhood friends as they grow up in a working-class Hong Kong housing estate. The Story of Friendship and Growth The story centers around four kids: Kin, Heem, Hoyi, and Little Brother, who share a life-changing experience in 1985 when they see a UFO in the sky. As they grow up, their paths diverge, with each character pursuing different goals and facing various challenges. The Impact of Hong Kong's Changing Landscape The film is set against the backdrop of Hong Kong's transformation, particularly the 1997 handover to China. This significant event serves as a pivotal moment in the characters' lives, influencing their decisions and futures. A Blend of Realism and Melodrama Ciao UFO is not a sci-fi film, but rather a multi-stranded realist drama that explores the complexities of human relationships and the city's evolution. The film features a cast of colorful characters, including a spaced-out uncle and a superstitious grandfather. A Long-Awaited Release Despite being made in 2019, Ciao UFO is only now receiving an international release due to distribution issues. The film still feels fresh and relevant, particularly in today's volatile economic climate.

The new BBC Two documentary Children of the Blitz brings together the last surviving witnesses of Britain’s wartime bombing, delivering a moving, unflinching portrait of childhood under fire.Documentary Captures First‑Hand Voices of Blitz SurvivorsDirected to mark the 85th anniversary of the Blitz’s end, the film follows interviewees from Liverpool, Coventry, Cardiff and Sheffield as they recall daily life, loss and the strange normality that followed nightly raids. Their stories are interwoven with present‑day scenes of grandchildren, yoga classes and quiet moments, underscoring how the past still shapes their identities.A Century‑Old Witnesses: Ages, Reach and Broadcast DetailsInterviewees range from 100‑year‑old Ernie Gaskell to survivors now in their late 80s.Filmed across multiple UK cities, the documentary aired on BBC Two on 12 May 2026 and is available on iPlayer.Running time: 60 minutes, featuring over 30 individual testimonies.Reframing the “Blitz Spirit” for Modern AudiencesThe programme questions the myth of a stoic, unbreakable national character, revealing instead a coping mechanism born of psychological crisis. Voices like Monica White and David Rawdon describe a forced silence that mirrors today’s war‑zone children in Gaza, Ukraine and Sudan, linking historic trauma to contemporary conflict.Why Wartime Oral Histories Will Remain VitalAs the final generation of eyewitnesses passes, the film serves as a crucial archival record. Its intimate approach suggests future documentaries will increasingly rely on personal narratives to humanise large‑scale tragedies, ensuring that the lessons of the Blitz stay relevant for decades to come.

A Childhood Echo: Pettersen’s Dingo Memories Born in the 1940s to a white father and Aboriginal mother, Carol Pettersen grew up deep in the Fitzgerald River bush where the howl of dingoes marked the night. She recalls hearing the calls and spotting the “flicker of red fur” among the mallee heath, a sound she now likens to a song that carries her home. Moort Documentary Highlights Cultural Loss The short film “Moort: Calling Dingo Back to Country” (Moort means “family” in Noongar) documents the disappearance of dingoes from Western Australia’s south‑west and asks what has been lost when an apex predator is treated solely as a pest. The film features Pettersen, other custodians, and the advocacy work of Sonya Takau, founder of Dingo Culture. Filmed in both Western Australia and far‑north Queensland. Screened at the WA Parliament in February 2026. Calls for removal of dingoes from pest classifications and an end to 1080 baiting and strychnine traps. Policy Landscape: Dingoes Classified as Pests Across most of Australia, dingoes are grouped under “wild dogs” in biosecurity law, allowing landholders to kill them to protect livestock. The 5,614 km dingo fence that stretches through Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia exemplifies the entrenched pest‑management approach. Indigenous Advocacy Calls for Coexistence Takau argues that the current framework ignores both ecological benefits—such as controlling overgrazing and reducing feral‑cat pressure—and deep cultural significance for Aboriginal peoples. The campaign, supported by Alix Livingstone of Defend the Wild, proposes practical alternatives: improved fencing, guardian animals, and financial assistance for landholders to coexist with dingoes. Future Outlook: Towards Integrated Dingo Management The documentary has sparked dialogue among policymakers, farmers and Indigenous groups. If the proposed legislative changes pass, Western Australia could become a test case for a model that balances agricultural interests with cultural and ecological stewardship, potentially influencing national dingo policy.

The Lead Titas Halder's striking new one-man play "Foal" presents the story of A.K., a young British Asian man navigating life through increasingly brutal incidents of racism. The production explores themes of identity, belonging, and the psychological toll of discrimination through a character who is both funny and sensitive, yet fracturing under societal pressure. The Play's Narrative Structure The play follows A.K.'s journey from childhood on an unnamed "Island" to living in a dingy flat on Seven Sisters Road in the city. Through fleeting references to Walkmans in his childhood and an allusion to the murder of Jean Charles de Menezes, the writing oscillates between a feverish nightmare and something more grounded and political. The significant figures in A.K.'s life—including his Indian immigrant parents, childhood sweetheart Katie, and local bully Max—are presented in tantalizing flashes, though many remain underdeveloped. Performance and Production Elements In his stage debut, Amar Chadha-Patel delivers a performance marked by restraint and ease despite the punishing demands of the 90-minute show. His character ripples with doubt, tenderness, and brittle rage, creating a portrait of a man on the edge who might "contain symphonies" if he could find his place in a world that seems stacked against him. Director Annie Kershaw creates an eerie and engaging atmosphere, while Rajiv Pattani's lighting design effectively transforms mood and location throughout the production. Thematic Exploration The play delves into the complex experience of being British Asian in contemporary Britain, examining how casual and systemic racism affects individuals and families. A.K.'s father is harassed by his patients but responds with sadness rather than anger; his mother offers both heartfelt advice and malice; and his relationship with Katie transforms his life before abruptly ending. These contrasting elements reflect the duality of the immigrant experience—both tender and raging, restrained and billowing with lyrical emotion. Critical Reception and Context While the production has been described as "strangely arresting" with "rawness" that feels "quite special," critics note that it sometimes presents only "scraps of details" and leaves interesting characters "a little undercooked." The play emerges at a time when discussions about race and identity in Britain remain intensely relevant, particularly in the context of rising xenophobia and debates about multiculturalism. Theatrical Significance "Foal" represents an important contribution to British Asian theatre, offering a personal perspective on universal experiences of alienation and belonging. The production runs at the Finborough Theatre in London until May 30, providing audiences with an opportunity to engage with the complex themes of identity, racism, and self-discovery through the intimate medium of one-person theatre.

The Lead: A Tale of Repression and Hidden DesiresThere's a common greeting in the Outer Hebrides: the lineage-establishing "Who do you belong to?" By the time this question is posed to 22-year-old gay Harris islander John-Calum Macleod, or Cal, in Douglas Stuart's new novel, there is a sense that Cal is his father John's beyond the ordinary claims of blood – the latter's sway containing undercurrents of domineering ownership.The Novel's Core Themes: Repression and Self-Denial in a Conservative CommunityThe book opens with the two conducting a strange ritual over the phone, performed regularly ever since Cal moved to Edinburgh to study textiles: John, a precentor, reads to Cal in Gaelic from the New Testament and has him sing back "with the full power of his belief". The verse John recites – which prefigures the novel's themes of repression and self-denial – urges the faithful to guide the errant and to stay vigilant against temptation. After receiving Cal's assent, John orders him to return home, ostensibly because Cal's maternal grandmother, Ella, is sick. Though John lives with Ella in her croft house, she is his ex-wife's mother and thus not his responsibility.Set within a tight-knit Free Presbyterian community of farmers, weavers and fishers in what appears to be the 1990s, John of John tells the story of Cal's uneasy homecoming. It's a reprise of the parable of the prodigal son and an ardent exploration of the half-lives of queer men condemned to love, pine and suffer in silence. Intimate yet epic in scale, it contains equal parts pastoral drama, tale of familial fracture, love story and inquiry into various forms of loneliness: the loneliness that can reside between fathers and sons, between lovers, between man and God, and between a small place and the big world.Character Analysis: Complex Relationships and Hidden TruthsJohn disapproves of Cal's appearance, his sartorial choices and his long, "flame-coloured" hair, disturbed "by the confused signal they were sending, the strange tension between the masculine and the feminine". Cal's disinclination to be "saved" creates a rift between them that later erupts in violence. Meanwhile, childhood friend and hookup partner Doll gives Cal the brush-off, cross that he's been away for so long. Wearied by his ultraconservative environment, where connection feels out of reach, Cal takes a fancy to his dad's sole friend, confirmed bachelor Innes MacInnes. Cal is struck by Innes's "gentleness, his benevolence – which Cal had never appreciated before, which, if he were honest, he would have said he found boring, unsexy in younger men".This, however, can never be the merry May-December romance Cal wishes it to be. Innes and John are lovers, we learn fairly early on, and it is this pair's tortured relationship since their teenage years – kept secret from everyone, including Cal – that forms the novel's centre of gravity. Masters of discretion, John and Innes are, to townsfolk, neighbouring sheep farmers. The first time we see them alone together, at Innes's, they go through the motions of a long-established routine, allowing themselves to draw close only after John has made sure each room is empty and they are really alone. Later, as John prepares to leave, Innes loudly seeks his assistance over an unspecified "two-man job", "all in case someone should find out and ask what exactly John Macleod was doing upstairs in the MacInnes house at such an ungodly hour".Literary Context: Stuart's Evolution as a StorytellerThe novel tries their bond in ways small and big. Aside from the difficulty of Cal, there is the matter of John's other liaison with a married man, and the tenancy of Ella's house soon to be transferred to Cal's mother. Innes floats the idea of John moving in with him but intuits "how, even under the threat of homelessness, a life together with him seemed no consolation at all". John is a man tormented by the idea of his own depravity: "He loved God. He loved Innes. He loved God and God hated how he loved Innes." At one point he entertains the possibility of Innes, Cal and himself being a family, but even in fantasy, the thought of Cal being gay, like him, remains unimaginable: "They would live like this every day, be useful, peaceful, happy on their land, looking forward to the day Cal married a local girl and filled their croft with grandchildren."The novel is outstandingly canny and wrenching on self-contempt, on the toilsome art of deceit, and on the contradictions we all contain, as well as the friction that can exist between the personal and the collective. As secular values gain ground, there is the suggestion that John and Innes living together could deal a death blow to their local congregation, leaving us wondering whether John and Cal will – or can – come out to one another. Amid all this, Stuart finds the space to touch on crofter subservience to absentee landowners, the scorn and prejudice of mainlanders, and the place of the Western Isles within the English imagination.Critical Reception: A Complex but Ultimately Rewarding ReadJohn of John is certainly enthralling, but the ambient Weltschmerz and the characters' frequent self-pity can be draining. Stuart's first two novels, the Booker-winning Shuggie Bain and its follow-up, Young Mungo, were feats of heartfelt, operatic storytelling, composed as though in defiant response to our age of irony and subtlety. Despite their occasionally miserabilist tenor, the emotions felt guileless and real, whether Shuggie's love for his doomed, alcoholic mother, Agnes; Jodie's for her brother Mungo; Mungo's for his birdkeeping neighbour James or his own doomed, alcoholic mother, Maureen. The impoverished Glaswegian milieus where they were set – marked by Thatcherite ruination, homophobia, sexual predation and sectarian strife – made for sobering reading; but these were novels so lavishly and graciously imagined, so very moving, that you gladly faced up to their gloom.Here Stuart leans heavily on melodrama and sensationalism as a shortcut to tragedy. Towards the end, the novel is eventful to a fault and surfeited with pathos: we have a pregnancy; an attempted shotgun wedding ("What in the world of Thomas Hardy?" says Cal); a death and a momentous departure from the island. While this book will not appeal to those with a low tolerance for excess, diehard romantics will find much to love; I see Cal, John and Innes – knottily entangled and imperfectly endearing – being cherished with readerly devotion. And that is no small feat.