With the exception of "My Bones and My Flute" republished by Longman's in 1986 and reprinted several times since then (evidently for use as a high school textbook), Edgar Mittelholzer's work has been out of print for so long as to have become unknown to generations of Caribbean readers. Hence, Peepal Tree Press must be commended for its decision to republish several of his books (and several other Caribbean classics) in 2009-2010. When one considers that, when this novel was written in 1938, there was virtually no precedent for it because a West Indian literature as such did not yet exist, it's an amazing accomplishment. I read somewhere that Mittelholzer once worked in a meterological office. This may explain his sentivity to weather conditions (the colours of the sky, sunlight, cloud formations, wind conditions, thunder, lightning, rain, etc) which permeates the text and in the context of which the title is well chosen. One could wish that he had devoted a comparable effort to describing the landscape, since the references in the book to canals, trenches, dams, parapets, kokers (sluicegates) and the coastal corida (mangrove) vegetation, may not conjure up an equally true picture of the Corentyne coastlands to anyone who is unfamiliar with the hydraulically engineered character of the Guyanese coast. Nevertheless, one of the most striking things about this book is (with the exception of references to the railway) how accurate the author's depiction of the area still is today, over 70 years later. Moreover (with the exception of the allusions to security of persons and property) the human story at the core of the book is not totally anachronistic. With the exception of the absence today of the white and near-white plantocracy, Mittelholzer's descriptions of the society and personalities in Berbice is evocative of the present situation. In my opinion, the main flaw in the book is the stlited dialogue between members of the elite, the landowner and his Queen's College educated son and his school friend, who are all made to speak like Victorian Englishmen. Evidently, growing up in New Amsterdam, the young Mittelholzer did not mix in such circles. Nevertheless, this book is a good and gripping read.