The Litten Path
by James Clarke
(Salt, £9.99)

FRAMED by a sequence of betrayals, The Litten Path is a story of unequal class struggle.

[[{"fid":"9268","view_mode":"inlineright","fields":{"format":"inlineright","field_file_image_alt_text[und][0][value]":false,"field_file_image_title_text[und][0][value]":false},"link_text":null,"type":"media","field_deltas":{"1":{"format":"inlineright","field_file_image_alt_text[und][0][value]":false,"field_file_image_title_text[und][0][value]":false}},"attributes":{"class":"media-element file-inlineright","data-delta":"1"}}]]The geographical co-ordinates of the novel are tightly drawn — the Yorkshire mining village of Litten, the semi-derelict Threndle House on its outskirts and the Orgreave coking plant.

Within these parameters, author James Clarke explores the multilayered relationships between the Newmans, a mining family from the town, and the Swarsbys, ensconced in the “big house” as the father Clive prepares to fight the forthcoming parliamentary seat for the Tories.

The first interaction between the two is hardly propitious. Arthur Newman breaks into Threndle House and steals an ancient rug which he gifts to his suspicious wife Shell. The resulting pestilence of moths is almost the perfect metaphor for the wider interactions between the ruling classes and the ruled.

Clarke's realist style, while clearly sympathetic to his working-class characters and the enormity of their community’s efforts and sacrifices during the strike, studiously avoids simplistic tropes.

Arthur is clearly a fallen man — a chancer and, eventually, a class traitor, but he is shown as a caring parent and occasionally as a considerate spouse.

Shell grows in awareness and political strength as the consequences of the loss of income for her family and the wider community empties both cupboards and any remaining illusions about the police.

Her brother-in-law Het, a giant of a man, is a trade unionist through and through and he is at the centre of the miners’ heroic resistance, especially on the picket line. But even he is not resistant to a small infamy as the strike makes his personal feelings impossible to hide.

And there is the gauche and hesitant 16-year-old Lawrence, whose whole world is confined by the town and the pit, except when he seeks perspective in the hills around by climbing up the Litten Path.

It is here that he encounters Evie and Duncan Swarsby, Clive’s children, and so becomes embroiled in their world of money, power and abusive relationships.

Duncan is a superficial and amoral teenager, but Evie, for all her brittle sophistication, has depth and is slowly drawn to the young Newman. Her interest in him is partly motivated by the debauched circles which both her parents subject her to, including a repellent Tory Party fundraiser in a glitzy London borough.

The betrayals continue and the novel offers a salutary reminder that class collaboration is a one-way street and serves only to halt working-class unity and progress.

Clarke’s description of the Battle of Orgreave is shockingly raw. The reader can feel the palpitations of Lawrence’s heart as he both turns in terror from the relentless police charges and channels his anger and fear onto a nearby camera crew.

That powerful description typifies what's an enlightening and energising socialist novel.