I have just read “Days of Bagnold Summer” by Joff Winterheart. A beautiful book – beautiful in the creeps-into-your-soul-and-squats-there-til-you-give-it-a-lease sort of a way. It’s dank and depressing. But, in all the greyness (literal and the other thing), there is warmth. It’s not much warmth, but this book explores the world of parents and teenagers, where any warmth at all is a gift you can’t ignore.