The spareness of the writing style made for a vivid yet intangible effect, leaving the reader without much substance to hang onto. On the one hand, they may meet Nikoleris et al’s aims in giving the reader compelling individuals facing complex dilemmas whose plight generates empathy (and so promotes reflection on climate change).

Ben Smith has created a vision of the future in which the world ends with neither a bang nor a whimper but just rusts gradually into the sea. Photograph: Paul D Hunter Photography/Alamy View image in fullscreen The story takes place in a vast windfarm of turbines on Dogger Bank. A breathlessly exciting account of the storm itself very nearly eclipses it in terms of memorability, making it very difficult to choose a highlight in this deftly constructed novel. There is much we can deduce but Smith is content to allow his readers to draw their own conclusions. It posits sinister mysteries that it never explains, giving a vertiginous hint that the mainland no longer exists in any recognisable form – that there is no longer anybody at the controls of the world.For instance, there are striking moments when we see the boy throwing a mountain of paper cups overboard, and the old man sifting through tiny grains of plastic.

In tone Doggerland resembles John Lanchester’s bleak novel, The Wall (2019) in which a near future Britain is protected from rising sea levels and the concomitant refugees by an encircling wall which must be patrolled by conscripts while an unelected elite lord it over them.Whether it is satisfying need or want, the pilot uses his position to extort from the Boy and the Old man the things that are most precious to them. This beautifully crafted novel about loneliness and hope, nature and survival, is as haunting as it is compelling - a very special debut indeed. Jem elects to fulfil his father’s intentions and leave the windfarm for the unknown freedom of the coast, but he becomes caught in a terrifying storm that drives his vessel far through the turbine range. With the onset of the Holocene, our current era, Doggerland's inhabitants were increasingly confronted with climate change and rising sea levels, just as we are today. He presents these in context with a range of informative viewpoints on prediluvian cultures including Atlantis, Mu, and Lemuria.

He was part of a panel discussion on the role that poetry might play in environmental activism, and read several recent poems inspired by the Earth System Model, which provides the data for the International Panel on Climate Change. But less clear is exactly who this contract is with, an organisation referred to only as “the Company. The Boy, who is no longer really a boy, and the Old Man, whose age is unguessable, are charged with its maintenance.Yet embedded deep within Doggerland we also sense a cry of protest against our violated landscape and a celebration of the mysteries of its ancient formation. Early on in the book, we are told that of course, the boy was not really a boy, any more than the old man was all that old; but the names are relative, and out of the grey, some kind of distinction was necessary. These custodians of rust are visited at unpredictable intervals from the coast by the menacing Pilot, who moves freely on a small supply vessel, delivering vital but unappetising tinned food.

For instance, we are told that the Boy was sent on the rig to replace his father, after the latter’s unsuccessful escape attempt. What is unclear is how far the Old Man might be a trustworthy accomplice, or an obstacle to be overcome. At the very least, perhaps, the overwhelming masculinity could be interpreted as just one of many signs that things are not as they should be here. Remembered in Celtic legends as Tu-lay, and referred to by geologists as Doggerland or Fairland, this civilization began at least as early as 4000 BC but was ultimately destroyed by rising sea levels, huge tsunamis, and a terrible viral epidemic released from melting permafrost during a cataclysmic period of global warming.

I don't normally review books but I felt I could do it some justice in just a few words without giving anything away. The combination of imagination, linguistic precision and the theme of harsh struggle in an unforgiving environment makes it a little reminiscent of Cynan Jones, but the whole thing is rather impressive. The climate change elements of Smith’s vision of the future form the backdrop to Jem’s story, rather than the driver of it, with the reader invited to consider the questions Jem doesn’t ask himself. The Road meets Waiting for Godot: powerful, unforgettable, unique’ - Melissa Harrison, author of At Hawthorn Time.