I was so lucky to receive an early copy of Private Rites. This book is absolutely incredible. Armfield draws us into a world where the sea has enroached on the land. We see how the world bends around an apocalypse that has already happened (and continues to happen). Life carries on. People clock in and out of work, get coffee, go to bars. The modern mundane world continues even whilst entire communities wash away. The three sisters Isla, Irene, and Agnes have both nothing and everything in common. Their similarities seem to scare them more than their differences and their interactions are so complex. It's so easy to empathise with each of their perspectives and how they choose to navigate the uncertain times that they find themselves in. This is - undeniably - the best book you'll read this year!

A beautiful take on a not too distant dystopian future where the effects of climate change have resulted in a waterlogged earth. Armfield writes beautifully about her characters, interweaving family drama against a sinister backdrop.

It's no secret that I adore Armfield's writing and Private Rites is no exception. I came to this hoping for haunting prose, whip-smart wit and an all-encompassing sense of disquiet and unrest - and got exactly what I wanted. Her writing has a dream-like quality, a loose lucidity, like watching the world through a rainy windowpane at night, smatters of streetlight and shadow. At odds with this is the stark reality of her characters - human and grieving and disappointing and disappointed. Each chapter and viewpoint had me empathising with each sister, despite their clashing natures, instincts - but that's just sisterhood, right? For as liminal as Armfield's apocalypse feels, her characters are utterly human. Julia Armfield is cementing herself as an icon of contemporary fiction, and I, for one, am obsessed.

An un-put-down-able CliFi with a cataclysmic journey. A modern queer re imagining of King Lear, wherein the horror isn't just the atmosphere, but also in every verse and line & an almost tangible sense of foreboding & unease surrounds three unlikable, disastrous sisters. No one writes like Armfield.

Private Rites has been pitched as a queer King Lear at the end of the world and that rings true in this bleak, blistering and brilliant book. It combines an intimate unravelling of grief and relationships from fractured characters with a ecological disaster looming on the horizon. As expected from anything drawing on King Lear, this is a book deeply focused on the family and dysfunctional, tangled relationships within it. Isla, Irene and Agnes are the three central sisters, each with their own nuances and complexities. There is also a shadow of grief upon them – the recent death of their father unravels a web of lies and secrets long buried. Tangible among them is the resounding impact of Isla and Irene’s mother many years ago. Their trauma from this lies unresolved and rears itself again in unexpected ways for each of them. This book really grapples with the question of inheritance: inherited trauma, secrets and the concept of a legacy. In particular, that last theme comes into sharper focus against an impending ecological disaster where the futility of it all is laid bare. There is no legacy to have in a world wracked by horror. I really enjoyed the way grief distorted aspects of themselves differently as they grappled with their individual problems and relationships. They are messy people but feel all the more human for it. The queer representation is also wonderful to see and there is a spectrum of experiences depicted here too. Armfield is very much concerned with the ripplings of time and emotions, shown in a narrative that does not always stay with the linear. It is unsettling in its uncanny playfulness with time. From the very first page, you are pushed off kilter and never fully return. There is such a strong sense of dread and foreboding that you cannot shake – it clings to you in a dreary fog. All the while, the storm rages outside. Armfield’s writing has this intangible quality that sticks to you like glue. It is mercurial and mysterious, constantly shifting beneath your fingers. I find her writing irresistibly beautiful but with a distinct sense of uneasiness that lingers. It is crafted impeccably with exquisite and interesting word choices and overall this lyrical quality that adds a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere to the narratives. There is something magical about it but in the sense of the old magic, the one with bite and blood attached to it. The darkness of humanity and the impossibility of stopping the oncoming storm are imbued into every page. It adds this sense of hopelessness, an awareness that we’re doomed to repeat the same narrative over and over again. The prose is just delectable with such a fragile heart to it that sinks into oblivion cast against the horror you can see coming. Here it is also porous, seeping through into your skin and affecting your perspective. Armfield cleverly disengages you from the narrative you may know and replaces it with something entirely different. It still feels very much like a Shakespearean tragedy with the monumental scale and reprecussions, but also stays focused on these flawed characters as they take centre stage. There is a creeping sense of dread that informs every page and sinks into your skin. The horror in this book is in the mundanity of life continuing against a horrific ecological crisis – beautifully illustrated by the excerpts of the point of view of The City. Here we get a bird’s eye view of impending doom contrasted by the pops of light and life of people. It makes for an unbearable tragedy and yet we can do nothing to stop what we know is coming. Armfield is poignant in this messaging, made all the more realistic by contemporary attitudes to climate change and other political movements. There is a sense of apathy that drains characters and makes them powerless chess pieces in a grander game that they cannot envision. Other angles of this come into play in the final sequence in a way that simultaneously answers many questions I had throughout reading and raises many more. This is not a book that will easily crack open and release its secrets, it is one where you will have to wade in yourself to piece it all together. Private Rites is hands down one of my favourite reads of the year so far. TW: death, grief, suicide, climate disaster, drowning, obsession, infidelity, cheating