I first came across David Bevan’s fiction via two chapbooks, The Bull, and The Golden Frog, both published by Nightjar press. I was struck by the finesse of the writing, what first appeared to be social realism morphing by degree into something more uncanny. Bevan’s prose was quiet but also vivid. I was keen to read more, and when chance arose, I did.

It is noticeable how deeply Bevan contextualises his characters. They are indivisible from their environment, moulded by it, constantly and subtly interacting with what surrounds them. In this respect his descriptions of landscape and his characters’ part in it are as sensitive and telling as any I’ve read. Individual and habitat oscillate between foreground and background, together forming the narrative.

This characteristic is evident in ‘Helium’. A man is taking his Sunday walk alone. He knows the surrounding moorland and farmland intimately. He is avoidant of anyone he might meet. His past is very much with him – everything he passes reminds him of it. He remembers the harshness of his childhood, and the inhibitions it has left him with. He remembers his one relationship with a woman, and the way forces inside caused him to sabotage it. Preoccupied by these thoughts, and their weight of regret, he approaches a reservoir and sees what appears to be a figure in distress. He determines not to circumvent it, as would be his inclination, but to investigate and, if need be, help. And that is all discretion allows me to tell you, except that the ending is as exquisitely drawn as the narrative preceding it.

There is an unobtrusive lyricism in Bevan’s prose. It suits his subject matter perfectly. His characters are hewn from personal histories that are sparingly drawn, but deeply formative. There is an element of fate in who they are, and what they have become. Bevan is very much his own writer but, if Thomas Hardy was writing today, I suspect he might write a bit like this.

Published online in Fictive Dream 2024 and then in Best British Short Stories 2025, ed. Nicholas Royle, Salt Publishing; available to read here