For some, murderous passions are the heart of the matter, for others it's greed and the unsettled business of land rights. It's a well-worn device, this multi-angled approach, and in Van Mil's case it feels a little artificial. Built upon the foundations of lumber, fur and maple syrup, it's an apparently sleepy and harmonious community with a one man-strong police force and a communal, party-line telephone exchange buzzing with local gossip. Its location and small-town mentality put one in mind of Twin Peaks. Lona Van Mil's first novel is an atmospheric, neatly constructed but very slow-burning mystery story which for a long time only coyly hints at crimes which have been committed. With his dual insider's and outsider's viewpoints, Benson is able to weave social history with a beautifully observed and intimate domestic drama. The nostalgia of his childhood memoir sharply contrasts with the dour humour and pragmatism of the Yorkshiremen he left behind, and the result is funny and moving.
Sugarmilk Falls by Lona Van Mil (PICADOR £7.99) An unnamed stranger has arrived in Sugarmilk Falls, asking questions about the events of 20 years ago - those disappearances that made the newspapers. Sugarmilk Falls is a conservative, insular, often snowbound, small town nestled amid the awe-inspiring wilderness of northern Ontario. Their farm is converted into rustic-style housing, their equipment ends up as curios in an antique dealers They can't even give their livestock away. When he returns, it's to help with the unhappy job of liquidating the business. In the space of a generation, his family's way of life has become untenable. The supermarkets' buying power and advances in agricultural science have rendered small-holdings obsolete.
Luckily, his brother Guy turned out to be a farming prodigy, and Benson was able to escape into his schoolbooks and, later, to university and to London. As the teenage son of a farmer, who was also the son of a farmer and so on back through generations, Benson did his best to help out on the farm. It was soon apparent that he was a liability though, who "couldn't even shoo a pig along without falling over" His dad's encouragement only made him feel worse. Her prose is disciplined and lucid, her imagery painted with bold primary colours and delicate brushstrokes.