'raw content is a work of dark, aching beauty' Helen Jukes, author of Mother Animal

'A stunning mix of horror and tenderness, love and despair. It's rare to see such a raw and real account of early motherhood' Kirsty Logan, author of The Unfamiliar: A Queer Motherhood Memoir

'A brooding and bruising psychodrama about the anxieties of 21st century motherhood, that links the primal potency of the female body with the northern landscape's elemental power' Stu Hennigan, author of Ghost Signs

'My childhood was a map marked with danger zones . . . Me and my sister were cared for. We were bathed and fed and clothed. But, as with many children, we couldn't have told you if we were loved. Our experience of care came in the form of a warning'

Grace's work requires her to be careful. She spends her days reading and editing legal case files, making sure the latest judgments are published as quickly and accurately as possible.

But outside of her work, Grace is not a careful person. Her father's history as a police officer working across an infamous case shadows her life, as does the violent history entrenched across the Colne Valley landscape of her childhood, and her fears often surface as recklessness.

When Grace becomes unexpectedly pregnant, she tries to accommodate her boyfriend and the prospect of the baby in her life. But after the relief and strange joy of the birth, Grace starts to imagine all sorts of terrible injuries and deaths befalling her child. The steep stairs to her apartment, the kitchen scissors, a boiling kettle all suddenly hold visceral and overwhelming potential for disaster. The baby's vulnerability terrifies her: fault-lines in her relationship begin to show, and her family history and repressed memories of violence break to the surface.

Tender, gripping and life-affirming, raw content tells the story of a woman grappling with a new form of love that feels like a disaster.