For those of us hungry for something substantive in our contemporary fiction, Heartland, Anthony Cartwright’s second novel, elegantly crafts a deft lyrical realism that’s given shape by a tightly woven, elliptical narrative argues Wes Brown.
Like Don DeLillo’s classic Underworld – Cartwright, cubist-like, uses sport to draw together disparate strands of fragmentation:
“Beckham’s face filled the screen, filled the room. Rob had driven past the giant hoarding over the motorway a few weeks ago. He’d driven for miles, worrying about the game against the mosque and the election, worrying about his dad Continue reading →