Ghosts of Spring by Luis Carrasco: Homelessness and hope

Cover image for Ghosts of Spring by Luis CarrascoBack in 2018, I was sent a beautifully jacketed novella with an interesting premise. The press release included a puff from Jon McGregor which swung it for me. Its pared back, evocative description of the Spanish landscape and fable like story landed Luis Carrasco’s El Hacho on my books of the year list. His second book, Ghosts of Spring, is very different, set in a West Country city where a young homeless woman battles a harsh winter.

Hidden in plain sight amongst them, in nooks and doorways and sitting with heads hanging against cold stone walls are huddled shapes, blanketed and inert, with faces of indifferent boredom

Hunched against the cold in an arcade, the anonymous young woman sleeps on a cardboard mat, her boots and precious bracelet stashed where no one can steal them. She’s grateful for small kindnesses but is used to being ignored. She rarely asks for money, sitting staring into space rather than making eye contact, gathering just enough in her paper cup to keep herself fed. She hates the local shelters, only resorting to using one in the worst of weather and then not feeling safe. Sometimes she visits Suni who’s been kind to her and lets her use her shower but Suni’s partner is more wary, worried about the young woman being found by their pimp. Suni and Cam have a plan but they need money to attain it, putting themselves in danger every time they’re bussed to the mansion where they cater to perverse sexual tastes. One day, soaked and cold, the young woman takes a round trip on a bus just to warm up, stopping at a small tourist town where she’s careful in her choice of café, returning to the city with the beginnings of a plan. As the spring approaches, there’s hope on the horizon for her but nagging worries about Suni and Cam.

Above her the sky is a creamy blue canvas and promises a day of unbroken sunshine and supple warm breezes, where the spring finally turns to summer and all bitter traces of winter have been burnt away

Carrasco writes in the same plain yet evocative prose which marked El Hacho out for me although this time it’s the grinding cold of a British winter which is brought harrowingly to life. The dull misery of homelessness, its loneliness, boredom, physical discomfort and danger is quietly brought home. There’s kindness but most passersby hurry on not seeing or choosing not to see – we’ve all done that, if we’re honest. Carrasco slips small details of the young woman’s previous life into the narrative until we learn why she’s sleeping rough. It’s not a dramatic story but I imagine many aren’t. Much hinges on chance, which it does for us all, of course, but if you have nowhere to go it can make the difference between surviving and not, a new life or the grim realities of continuing decline. Not an easy subject to tackle but Carrasco does it well and with a good deal of compassion, neatly avoiding the sentimental while offering hope.

If you like the sound of this and fancy a copy for yourself, please consider ordering direct from époque press. They’re a small independent press with an interesting list.

époque press: Brighton 9781838059200 173 pages Paperback

18 thoughts on “Ghosts of Spring by Luis Carrasco: Homelessness and hope”

  1. I had never heard of Luis Carrasco until now and, of course, I also read your review on El Hacho. The latter is already on my Kindle, and Ghost of Spring is now on my TBR list. One of the pleasures of reading good literary blogs such as yours, is being introduced to authors you would never have encountered without the review. Thank you!

  2. This sounds beautiful, harrowing is the word that came to mind as I was reading your review, nevertheless definitely one to look out for. I agree with you about the importance of supporting indie publishers.

  3. New publisher and author to me, and it sounds like a powerful story in perhaps an unexpected setting. Despite the dark topic, it does sound like the author balances the positive and negative elements well.

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