Gloriously gossipy and deeply strange, this is a psychogeographical ramble around the towns of Kent, centring around dark and troubling stories which the author digs into and to a certain extent relives as he moves from place to place. There is no central message, no linear progression, just a collection of strange and unsettling stories which you have absolutely no idea about in terms of conclusion. I loved this.

Bought this on spec in a Margate bookshop enticed by that cover showing Arlington House and the Iain Sinclair recommendation. From the moment the TOILETS morph into T S ELIOT, you're in safe (if mildly certifiable) hands. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that, and that's welcome. Go explore.