The more I read of Ali Smith’s seasonal quartet, the more poignant and meaningful this magnificent artistic project feels. Although each novel has a self-contained story concerning a group of characters, an overarching fictional family is being built with small references connecting characters between the novels. This adds a little frisson of pleasure for attentive readers who spot the connections (one such link is explicitly made to “Autumn” at the end of this novel.) But, most of all, a portrait of our time period is being exquisitely encapsulated in Smith’s yearly novel account of recent events, society’s wildly divergent opinions and current political debates. The author also prompts us to ask important questions about the way we live now – one tenacious character in this novel continues to ask questions that need to be asked even when no answers are forthcoming. Moreover, Smith emphasises the importance of dialogue to better understand each other’s positions.

“Spring” primarily focuses on the story of Richard Lease, a down on his luck filmmaker mourning the loss of his good friend and former colleague/lover Patricia (Paddy). He contemplates a film project that playfully imagines a fictional relationship between the writers Katherine Mansfield and Rainer Maria Rilke. When his life comes to a crisis point he encounters a group of people he embarks on a journey with that includes Brittany (Brit), a correction officer at an immigration centre/prison; Florence, a mysterious girl who can freely enter forbidden spaces; and Alda Lyons, a librarian involved in a secret operation to assist detained immigrants. They engage in a number of conversations and relate stories to each other. Even when these characters try to avoid revealing themselves or step away from the stories of their lives they find themselves in a new story: “He was a man on a railway platform. There was no story. Except, there is. There always fucking is.” Smith reminds us that we’re always part of a larger narrative no matter how isolated we feel.

One of the fun tricks in this novel is that there are several short self-contained sections written in a collective or distinct narrative voice - in the way past books in the seasonal quartet have also done. These playfully mimic the voice of social media or represent an explosion of arguments. It’s revealed at one point that these are story sketches in Florence’s notebook making her a chronicler of our times in her own way. This is similar to the other characters in Smith’s previous books such as Elisabeth or Lux who are led by a bold curiosity and a wish to capture the spirit of an era through creative means. In addition to her fictional creations and as she’s done the previous novels, Smith also invokes the personality and artwork of a real female artist. In this novel she describes the artwork of Tacita Dean who tries to capture a cloud. It’s moving how Smith shows in these examples how there is a continuous artistic dialogue that runs alongside and intermingles with broader social and political dialogues taking place in our society.

One of my favourite books by Smith is her novel “Artful” where she so beautifully depicts a character’s grief while contemplating a number of subjects. The way she wrote the character of Richard in this novel when his life grinds to a halt amidst the loss of Paddy made me recall how powerfully Smith depicts someone who experiences immense loss. She also touchingly describes his feelings of estrangement from his daughter who he hasn’t seen since she was young. He’s come to form frequent conversations with an imagined version of her in his mind and this underpins his sense of isolation. Yet, just as Spring brings with it a rejuvenation of hope, Richard finds his sense of engagement and prospects renewed in fresh connections and by giving voice to the refugees rendered invisible behind secure walls. However, there’s also the presence of the sinister firm SA4A (which also appears in some form throughout all the seasonal novels) that Brit maintains a dogged faith in. This seemingly immovable opaque system is an ominous backdrop to these novels.

I’m now more curious than ever to see how Smith will incorporate the recurring elements and themes of her series into the forthcoming final book/season. It’ll be a pleasure to finally fit together all the pieces of the puzzle – even if it’s a puzzle that doesn’t form a complete whole because one of the extraordinary things this project shows is that there are no borders when it comes to stories and there are always more pieces to add.

Continuing on in her ambitious season-inspired chronicle of our times, Ali Smith opens “Winter” with the statement “God was dead: to begin with.” She continues on ringing the death bell for everything from modern day conveniences to systems of government to states of being. These pronouncements act like a wry commentary on the uncertainty many people now feel as citizens in a precarious world despite all the apparent advancements of civilization and culture. It’s also a clever play on the opening of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” and his declaration of Marley’s death as a precursor to the chilling introduction of his ghost. Just as Dickens was a fierce critic of social stratification, Ali Smith’s writing critiques the way in which society has become increasingly economically and politically divided. This new novel continues with some of the same themes as “Autumn”, but focuses on a Christmas reunion between a nature blogger named Arthur or “Art”, his mother Sophia who is a successful businesswoman and his estranged aunt Iris who is a political activist. Art also brings with him a stranger named Lux who adds an element of chaos and a uniquely different perspective.

The shadow of Brexit looms large in this story as does the alarming destructive force of that new president across the pond. References are scattered throughout to specific recent true events from a Tory MP literally barking at a female MP in the House of Commons to the Grenfell Tower tragedy to Trump telling boy scouts they’ll be able to say Merry Christmas (instead of Happy Holidays) again. She even makes a sly dig at the buffoonish conservative ex-mayor of London, Boris Johnson. These accounts from the news are all examples of political forces flaunting their power and brazenly asserting their arrogant dominance over women, the working class and non-Christians. Smith shows the way these instances filter into the consciousness of her characters influencing both their perspectives and the language of their dialogue. Sophia and Iris are polar opposites in their ideological points of view and frequently bicker. The character of Art is a common point between them and fascinatingly the two women even disagree over events concerning his youth. This isn’t only a novel about the present, but it frequently circles back to the past alighting upon connections and meaning and ideas which have been lost in the passage of time.

Smith’s writing is always imbued with a sense of humour. Her story begins like a Shakespeare-style comedy of concealed identity. Since Art is fighting with his girlfriend Charlotte and he promised his mother he’d bring her home for Christmas he hires Lux to pose as his girlfriend. This creates a series of absurd interactions and hilarious confusion. Sophia finds herself butting heads with institutions around her from banks to eye clinics with tragic-comic results. Individuals inevitably become alienated within regimental systems of dealing with people like Elisabeth's experience trying to submit a passport application in “Autumn.” As in all great comedy there is a tinge of sorrow and anger mixed in with the laughter. Out of a delightfully odd situation where Sophia is haunted by the ghost head of a child there arises a sober statement about ageing and a moving aspect about this character’s past interactions with the art of Barbara Hepworth.

Portrait of Barbara Hepworth by Ethel Walker

The real ghost who seems to flit through this novel is Hepworth herself whose art and presence seems to permeate the story. This is sculptor whose smoothed-down natural materials frequently featured a hole through which to look through. There are a lot of elements to this story that have to do with nature and perspective. Art is the figure caught in the centre trying to reconcile his relationship with nature through writing on his blog amidst a corporate job tracking down copyright theft. Hepworth's sculptures feel like they organically rise within the narrative to insist on challenging the characters' perceptions. Later, Smith recounts the way a neglected painting by Ethel Walker was only recently identified as a rare early portrait of Barbara Hepworth as a teenager. Like a vision of the past, the woman herself resurfaces anew.

I have a particular passion for watching nature documentaries – particularly late at night when I’m struck by sleeplessness. Somehow this voyeuristic connection with the lives of animals and the physical world helps lull me into a state of abandon and unconsciousness. Something I’ve learned from these documentaries is that, although winter is a time of scarcity for many animals, it’s also a time in which predators such as wolves thrive best. Since they find it easier to prey on the elderly, young or sick, it makes killing easier at this time of year. Therefore, winter is a time that requires a heightened level of vigilance and care. Ali Smith’s “Winter” is a heart warming encouragement to come together, to question, to watch out for each other in these cold times when carnivorous powers seek to consume and discard those that are most vulnerable. It’s a reminder to give ourselves time in a fast-paced world where we never feel like we have enough time: “That’s what winter is: an exercise in remembering how to still yourself then how to come pliantly back to life again.” It’s also a reminder that the spectre of nature is ever present and will regenerate to crawl over and crumble every wall that’s built.