This is the debut short story collection of A.J. Ashworth, but you wouldn't realize that from reading it; the writing is assured, subtle and controlled.
On the other hand, you might realize it from the zest, range and diversity of the stories, qualities which are often reined in in later collections by some writers, mainstream publishers preferring uniformity over diversity these days.
The range alone is impressive, in narrative, setting, character, yet the individual lives are securely inhabited, written from the inside, even when written from the opposite gender, as in Bone Fire, in which a troubled teenage boy lights a bonfire in the school basement; also in Trees, in which the son of a jailed paedophile comes to terms with his imposed destiny.
They vary in age too, from a young girl being bullied by a boy on a beach, through a gang of teenage girls ridiculing one of them over her choice of baby's name (interestingly, written in the first person plural for most of its length) to an ageing woman interviewed by a local reporter about her forthcoming golden wedding anniversary as she struggles with her husband's fading memory.
But it's the quality, not just the range, of the writing that's important: the metaphors, often from astronomy, of which Ashworth has evident knowledge, are powerful, but there for a purpose, not decoration but illumination. Likewise the descriptions, adjectival phrases, are spot-on, unexpectedly shedding light or clarity, but not drawing attention to themselves in a show-off way; the reader acknowledges them subliminally, without being distracted from the narrative.
Not least, the endings, open, allowing unexpected developments yet conveying the probable trajectory of cramped lives and limited possibilities. There's a directness to the writing, yet a convincing obliqueness, and if that sounds like a contradiction, all I can say is read them for yourself and you'll see what I mean.
We may be seeing the emergence of a major talent here. Be in at the beginning!