Oddly, Green is at her best when writing about the unknown. One of the sharpest stories is ‘The Politics of Rubber’, an insight into the decline of a developing nation when commodity prices begin to falter. Some of the strength of this piece comes from the finger-pointing aspect of the second-person voice and its short, sharp sentences. Other stories are more human. These include ‘A Form of Leaving’, which traces a widower’s affection for his wife’s uncles and aunts, then deepens both character and plot.

The stories are at their weakest when Green ignores narrative. ‘Vanilla’ is a humorous character sketch that doesn’t quite yield a satisfying narrative. Elsewhere, in ‘The Order of Things’, a departing lover creates a list of objects that would have been better explored in a poem. Character is Green’s strength – her eccentric aunts, flamboyant mature-age students and dissatisfied schoolteachers are well-realised women.

Most authors admit to an element of autobiography in their work, even as a source of inspiration or setting. Green can ingeniously stretch experience into rewarding fiction, but her stories fall short when they don’t embellish the real with sufficient plot or experimentation.