Life’s struggles in miniature

positive role this plays in our collective culture and psyche, also concerns itself with the arguably much more pressing issue of biological need and survival.

It was Chatwin, after all, who admitted that for many “a journey is a fragment of hell”. Those caught in the ravages of climate change, war and poverty know this from bitter experience. As one of the many revealing indicators in the book points out “by 2045 the spread of deserts in sub-Saharan Africa is expected to compel 60 million inhabitants to pick up and leave. By 2100 rising sea levels could add another 180 million to their ranks.”

Faced with such an onslaught it’s no surprise that almost daily our news reports highlight the growth in migration. And, just as they do so, politicians – especially those of a populist or rightest bent – use the perceived threat of migration to kindle fear.

Here Shah does a tremendous service to our understanding of the malign manipulation of the supposed “migrant threat”. She traces this perception of it, something sinister and to fear back, back to the 18th century Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus, generally considered to the originator of modern taxonomy, which is the practice and science of classifying things or concepts.

Linnaeus was “entranced” by order, effectively reinforcing the idea of putting things in their place, including people. For Linnaeus there was no such thing as a shared ancestry and over time such theories helped shape many of today’s more toxic narratives about immigration.

“The paths taken by human migrants are shaped primarily by abstractions,” explains Shah. “Distant political leaders lay down rules based on political and economic concerns, allowing some in and keeping others out. They draw and redraw invisible lines on the landscape in biologically arbitrary ways.”

THAT the next great migration of plants, animals and humans is already upon us is indisputable. As this timely book outlines, scientists have found that of the four thousand species that they have tracked, between 40 and 70 per cent had altered their distribution over the past handful of decades, around 90 per cent into cooler lands and waters in sync with the changing climate.

Human relocation is no less dramatic, with more people living outside their countries of birth today than at any time before. Floods, storms, poverty, persecution and war have been triggers.

Fascinating, and extremely well written, this is a book of our times. When Covid-19 and lockdown recedes I will return to that Andalusian coastline with its migratory birds and people on the move crossing between continents. Having read this book it will make me think again about what I encounter.

WILD SWIMS Dorthe Nors

Pushkin Press, £9.99

IN 2017, Dorthe Nors’ literary reputation was given a boost this side of her native Denmark when her novel Mirror, Shoulder, Signal made the shortlist of the Man Booker International Prize. The book follows a fortysomething woman called Sonja as she wrestles with life, nerves and driving lessons. “I can’t change gears,” she complains, and like many of Nors’ characters she tries her best to power on but ends up taking wrong turns and going nowhere fast.

In Wild Swims, Nors’ latest collection of short stories, we encounter more individuals struggling against inner turmoil or outside forces. In the first, and arguably the strongest tale, In a Deer Stand, a man lies in the middle of nowhere with a broken ankle and no means of contacting anyone.

Tired of constantly losing battles and desperate for “the feeling of winning”, he decided a day or two ago to drive far away from his family. As he lies immobile, mulling over all he has left behind, he watches a rising mist and braces himself for another cold, damp night outdoors. “Sooner or later, somebody will show up,” he muses, but it is hard to share his optimism.

Other characters in other stories flounder overseas or in unfamiliar environments. Lina in By Sydvest Station has not so much lost her bearings as her moral compass. Still smarting from a stinging rebuke and a recent break-up, she overcomes her loss by pretending to work for a cancer charity and collecting donations from unsuspecting members of the public.

Or as she puts it: “Ringing on strange people’s doorbells to demand love and respect.” However, when she rings Elsa’s doorbell she gets more than she bargained for.

Later, in Manitoba, Nors demonstrates her unique power to disturb with the vaguest of details. An ex-teacher who “resembles a normal man” and who “no longer has any wish to regulate his abnormalities” watches scouts pitch their tents in the field opposite his house – and then recalls a former pupil. The past also overlaps the present in the evocative, contemplative title story. Here, a woman’s nostalgic childhood memories of idyllic wild swimming lure her back in the water, but in a public swimming pool she quickly feels out of her depth.

Nors’ last collection of stories, Karate Chop, mostly revolved around female characters – mothers, daughters, wives and girlfriends on the brink of breaking down or cracking up. In contrast, Wild

Swims focuses on the travails of both men and women.

When they appear together, Nors blends in madcap antics and black humour. In Hygge, an elderly man joins a “senior club” to play chess, only to learn that the ageing female members have different plans for him: “as a bachelor I had to place my body at the disposal of all the cast-off women and their expectations.”

These truly are short stories. No tale exceeds seven pages. Some amount to mere sketches, snapshots or portraits. Many are fuelled by strange thoughts and idiosyncratic deeds. A few are maddeningly evasive and raise more questions than answers. And yet all are masterclasses in concision and most get straight to the nub of the matter, able to perfectly convey a mood, encapsulate an emotion or dramatise a predicament.

Nors has described her stories as “hit-and-run-literature”, which aptly sums them up: she gets in there, does her thing, then gets out, often leaving us marvelling at her dexterity.

We also admire Nors’ prose, which is rich with quirky formulations and novel comparisons (“Baileys tastes of German rest stops and the corner of some party where nothing’s happening”).

Sharp, inventive, and consistently captivating, Nors’ tales are miniature wonders. Prepare to see the world in a refreshing new light.