Three Seasons portrays Britain in the 1980s by telling three novella-length stories which provide social history case-studies of the country at that time. Having lived through those times myself, though with considerably less political involvement than Robbins clearly had, the stories both rang true and extended my own knowledge of parts of British society with which I was not familiar. I like books that bring history to life in an engaging way. Having read Robbins’ interesting earlier novel, The Lost Baggage of Sylvia Guzman, I can see many continuities of theme with that earlier piece, which delivers a witty and perceptive commentary on the state of Britain, from the viewpoint of an asylum-seeker.

The first story is about trawlermen, telling a disturbing story, the background to which is the decline of the fishing industry. Robbins draws on his extensive knowledge of the fishing industry to deliver an educational feast of information. At times I was not sure I wanted to know all of the detail he provides (about snoods, cuddies, papersounders, precision baiters, the ten metre rule, and the like) but the story was engaging and saw me through the technical detail, in the best tradition of Patrick O’Brien, whose books use the same technique to deliver a similar sense of authenticity and immersion in an historical period.

The second story has a much larger cast of characters and I wondered if, with a more elaborate plot, this had the potential to be developed into a full-length novel. At the centre of the story is the conflict between Terry, the brash estate agent, pitched against Roy, the kindly teacher and part-time gliding instructor. This conflict extends across the decades and we learn, eventually, that it has its roots in a shared experience of student politics. The difference between the ‘good guy’ and the ‘bad guy’ is very sharply drawn, and perhaps could have been more subtle at times. Like the trawler story, the knowledge Robbins shows of glider flying is impressive, although this time I found the technical details were less obtrusive, being subsumed by a very real sense of the gripping – even hair-raising – sense of excitement that a glider pilot feels when in the air. Conveying this excitement to someone like me, who has no experience of flying in any kind of light aircraft, is quite an achievement. The twist at the end of the tale is a fitting commentary on the direction set by Mrs Thatcher for the future development of British society.

The third story was undoubtedly the best one. It was less overtly political than the other two, and the characterisation more subtle. A scene between the somewhat moralistic Tim, newly returned home from a spell working in an overseas development project, and Tamsin, his sister-in-law, who he initially stereotypes as belonging to the same hypocritical, materialistic world as his Porsche-driving brother, is very well done and helps us realise that drawing firm moral lines is almost always a mistake if we are to understand the people we encounter. What I liked most about this story, though, was its moments of lyrical contemplation, often of the past life of characters as they ruminated about their family relationships, often also contemplating the wonders of the natural environment, which succeeded in conveying something about the complexity and wonder of the world we live in at a very profound level. Like the watercolours painted by Tim’s sister, these moments were intensely beautiful and suggest to me that Robbins has the capacity to write a truly great novel one day. I look forward to reading more of his output in the future.