Summer (Seasonal Quartet, #4)

by Ali Smith

He didn’t, he doesn’t, know how to atone. He has to put it right. But how do you put a memory right?

The briefest and slipperiest of the seasons, the one that won’t be held to account – because summer won’t be held at all, except in bits, fragments, moments, flashes of memory of so-called or imagined perfect summers, summers that never existed.