In 1904, when she was six, Polly Flint went to live with her two holy aunts at the yellow house by the marsh – so close to the sea that it seemed to toss like a ship, so isolated that she might have been marooned on an island. And there she stayed for eighty-one years, while the century raged around her, while lamplight and Victorian order became chaos and nuclear dred. Crusoe’s Daughter, ambitious, moving and wholly original, is her story.
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She does fiction as it should be done, with confidence and insight