
Letters from the past deliver deadly message
In the small North Yorkshire village of Saltburn, Audrey Hawken and her cohort receive letters they wrote when they were teenagers to their future selves, thanks to the English teacher who assigned them in class and mails them 20 years later.
Audrey discovers in hers a note from her friend Ben, who died on a school trip weeks after writing his letter. Mystified, she texts her picture-of-success friend Miranda what Ben wrote; but she never gets a response.
Dear Future Me
Miranda, upon reading her own letter to herself along with Audrey's message, walks out of her home without a word to her family. The next time we see her she is plummeting to her death from the heights at Huntcliff.
The tragedy shocks the community, especially Audrey — Miranda was one of few friends she stayed close with.
Audrey's life isn't what her teen self had imagined. After her parents' deaths she raised her younger brother, failed to get into Cambridge and now works cleaning homes — including that of her former peer, overachiever Kitty, a renowned professor.
Audrey is driven by grief to uncover the truth about Miranda's death and its connection to Ben's 20 years earlier.
O'Connor's prose is crisp and vivid. When Audrey's investigative dead ends pile up, she feels her 'inadequacies press down on her like gravity, pushing lower and lower, until she feels she might disappear into the ground itself.'
Excerpts from the letters deepen the mystery, uncovering the characters' past connections. But although presented in fonts emulating handwriting, the narrative voice sounds the same, as if the characters as teens are really their adult selves describing them. They admit things that ring true psychologically (such as the headmaster's son acting out just so his distant father will pay attention to him) but often in analytical terms with the benefit of hindsight.
Weekly
A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene.
Having a struggling-to-pay-the-bills cleaning woman as her sleuth means O'Connor could have thrown drudgery to the wind and let the mystery relentlessly drive events. Instead she builds tension in a more true-to-life and satisfying way. Audrey juggles her efforts to find her former friends and discover the truth of Ben's death — and Miranda's — with taking paid gigs wherever she can, sometimes putting her up close with people she's investigating.
The discomfort of relying on her successful former classmates while learning their secrets leads to more shocks along the way, exposing the brittleness of social mobility and past dreams — for Audrey, and her friends.
One dramatic revelation about Miranda makes it seem Audrey has cracked the mystery — and it shows O'Connor's storytelling skill that, while it's stunning enough to satisfy Audrey (and perhaps the reader, for a moment), it's still not the whole story.
With its high-concept premise, intersecting lives and picturesque, semirural English setting — not to mention O'Connor's own experience as TV writer and producer — don't be surprised if this mystery makes for a captivating series to stream.
David Jón Fuller is a Winnipeg writer and editor.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


CTV News
7 hours ago
- CTV News
Tom Lehrer, song satirist and mathematician, dies at 97
Musician Tom Lehrer sits beside the piano in his house in Santa Cruz, Calif., on April 21, 2000. (AP Photo/Paul Sakuma, File) LOS ANGELES — Tom Lehrer, the popular and erudite song satirist who lampooned marriage, politics, racism and the Cold War, then largely abandoned his music career to return to teaching math at Harvard and other universities, has died. He was 97. Longtime friend David Herder said Lehrer died Saturday at his home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He did not specify a cause of death. Lehrer had remained on the math faculty of the University of California at Santa Cruz well into his late 70s. In 2020, he even turned away from his own copyright, granting the public permission to use his lyrics in any format without any fee in return. A Harvard prodigy (he had earned a math degree from the institution at age 18), Lehrer soon turned his very sharp mind to old traditions and current events. His songs included 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park,' 'The Old Dope Peddler' (set to a tune reminiscent of 'The Old Lamplighter'), 'Be Prepared' (in which he mocked the Boy Scouts) and 'The Vatican Rag,' in which Lehrer, an atheist, poked at the rites and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church. (Sample lyrics: 'Get down on your knees, fiddle with your rosaries. Bow your head with great respect, and genuflect, genuflect, genuflect.') Accompanying himself on piano, he performed the songs in a colorful style reminiscent of such musical heroes as Gilbert and Sullivan and Stephen Sondheim, the latter a lifelong friend. Lehrer was often likened to such contemporaries as Allen Sherman and Stan Freberg for his comic riffs on culture and politics and he was cited by Randy Newman and 'Weird Al' Jankovic among others as an influence. He mocked the forms of music he didn't like (modern folk songs, rock 'n' roll and modern jazz), laughed at the threat of nuclear annihilation and denounced discrimination. But he attacked in such an erudite, even polite, manner that almost no one objected. 'Tom Lehrer is the most brilliant song satirist ever recorded,' musicologist Barry Hansen once said. Hansen co-produced the 2000 boxed set of Lehrer's songs, 'The Remains of Tom Lehrer,' and had featured Lehrer's music for decades on his syndicated 'Dr. Demento' radio show. Lehrer's body of work was actually quite small, amounting to about three dozen songs. 'When I got a funny idea for a song, I wrote it. And if I didn't, I didn't,' Lehrer told The Associated Press in 2000 during a rare interview. 'I wasn't like a real writer who would sit down and put a piece of paper in the typewriter. And when I quit writing, I just quit. ... It wasn't like I had writer's block.' He'd gotten into performing accidentally when he began to compose songs in the early 1950s to amuse his friends. Soon he was performing them at coffeehouses around Cambridge, Massachusetts, while he remained at Harvard to teach and obtain a master's degree in math. He cut his first record in 1953, 'Songs by Tom Lehrer,' which included 'I Wanna Go Back to Dixie,' lampooning the attitudes of the Old South, and the 'Fight Fiercely, Harvard,' suggesting how a prissy Harvard blueblood might sing a football fight song. After a two-year stint in the Army, Lehrer began to perform concerts of his material in venues around the world. In 1959, he released another LP called 'More of Tom Lehrer' and a live recording called 'An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer,' nominated for a Grammy for best comedy performance (musical) in 1960. But around the same time, he largely quit touring and returned to teaching math, though he did some writing and performing on the side. Lehrer said he was never comfortable appearing in public. 'I enjoyed it up to a point,' he told The AP in 2000. 'But to me, going out and performing the concert every night when it was all available on record would be like a novelist going out and reading his novel every night.' He did produce a political satire song each week for the 1964 television show 'That Was the Week That Was,' a groundbreaking topical comedy show that anticipated 'Saturday Night Live' a decade later. He released the songs the following year in an album titled 'That Was the Year That Was.' The material included 'Who's Next?' that ponders which government will be the next to get the nuclear bomb ... perhaps Alabama? (He didn't need to tell his listeners that it was a bastion of segregation at the time.) 'Pollution' takes a look at the then-new concept that perhaps rivers and lakes should be cleaned up. He also wrote songs for the 1970s educational children's show 'The Electric Company.' He told AP in 2000 that hearing from people who had benefited from them gave him far more satisfaction than praise for any of his satirical works. His songs were revived in the 1980 musical revue 'Tomfoolery' and he made a rare public appearance in London in 1998 at a celebration honoring that musical's producer, Cameron Mackintosh. Lehrer was born in 1928, in New York City, the son of a successful necktie designer. He recalled an idyllic childhood on Manhattan's Upper West Side that included attending Broadway shows with his family and walking through Central Park day or night. After skipping two grades in school, he entered Harvard at 15 and, after receiving his master's degree, he spent several years unsuccessfully pursuing a doctorate. 'I spent many, many years satisfying all the requirements, as many years as possible, and I started on the thesis,' he once said. 'But I just wanted to be a grad student, it's a wonderful life. That's what I wanted to be, and unfortunately, you can't be a Ph.D. and a grad student at the same time.' He began to teach part-time at Santa Cruz in the 1970s, mainly to escape the harsh New England winters. From time to time, he acknowledged, a student would enroll in one of his classes based on knowledge of his songs. 'But it's a real math class,' he said at the time. 'I don't do any funny theorems. So those people go away pretty quickly.' Former Associated Press writer John Rogers contributed to this story. Rogers retired from The AP in 2021. Gillian Flaccus, The Associated Press


CTV News
9 hours ago
- CTV News
Cambridge's Gaslight District brings winter vibes to summer heatwave
As a heatwave continues to grip Waterloo Region, the Gaslight District in Cambridge offered residents a cool escape Sunday with a unique event that brought a taste of winter to the heart of summer. The one-day-only event, dubbed Frozen Heatwave, transformed the popular downtown area into a snowy-themed celebration, complete with synthetic ice skating, complimentary skate rentals and classic winter films playing on the big screen. In a social media post, organizers said the goal was to bring 'all the fun of cold weather, with none of the frostbite.' The free event drew families and residents looking for a refreshing way to beat the heat. Frozen Heatwave wraps up at 6 p.m.


Winnipeg Free Press
2 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
When artists die, they leave gifts to us
Opinion Ozzy Osbourne and Aganetha Dyck were very different people who made very different art — and probably have never been included in the same sentence — but I think we can agree that both were pioneers with a rebellious streak. The former was the larger-than-life frontman of the English band Black Sabbath, which basically invented heavy metal. The latter was a fearlessly experimental Manitoba artist who thought to put everything from football helmets to Barbie dolls in beehives to create fantastical honeycomb and wax sculptures and elevated the domestic processes of homemaking into high art, which is also extremely metal. Aganetha Dyck Both died within days of each other. Osbourne died on Monday, and I heard the news while I was doing interviews for a piece about Dyck, who died late last week. I've seen Ozzy in concert three times: at a solo show with one of my best friends when we were in our teens, and then Ozzy with Black Sabbath twice in the 2010s. As for so many others, his music was formative for us. I immediately texted her: she had been dealing with some anticipatory grief over Ozzy since his final concert with Black Sabbath in his hometown of Birmingham, England earlier this month. In between messages with her about Ozzy, I interviewed loved ones about Aganetha. And so, it's been a week of bearing witness to grief, but it's also been a week about art because that's what's left: the art. And we'll always have the art. I wrote this of the Tragically Hip when Gord Downie died in 2017, but I think it's true here, too: Black Sabbath will always be someone's favourite band. Dyck's art will continue to be shown and talked about and exhibited. She will continue to loom large as an influence to all those living artists she mentored, but also all the artists to come who will discover her through her work. The art is the tangible gift they gave us. And what a gift that is. I've written many obits and memorial columns for the newspaper, and it's always a bit strange, because in most cases, these are people I didn't know. Some of them are celebrities; some of them are Manitobans who we have featured in Saturday's A Life's Story feature. Either way, there's an art to these pieces. It's an enormous challenge — and responsibility — to capture a subject without actually interviewing them. It can also be an intrusion, especially if the subject is a newsworthy person whose death has only just happened. (It can also be a complicated assignment because people are complicated, as we've seen with remembrances about Hulk Hogan, who also died this week.) I never got the opportunity to meet Aganetha, but spending time with her this week, in this way, with her friends, family and people she touched with her art, was so special. That's how we're able to bring colour to the black-and-white biographical facts of someone's life: with stories and anecdotes and remembrances. And how she was remembered – her laugh, her fearlessness, her openness — was moving as well. Thinking about a band that was so part of my musical awakening — and so embedded in an important friendship — was also special. Wednesdays What's next in arts, life and pop culture. Writing these kinds of stories inevitably makes you think about how you might be remembered, because no one gets out of this thing alive. You can't control that, of course, but my subjects never fail to inspire me to live better in some way. (Also, you should tell people what they mean to you and what you appreciate about them, and you should do so often.) Sometimes people ask me if these are bummer assignments because we're writing about people who have died. But we're not writing about death. We're writing about life. Jen ZorattiColumnist Jen Zoratti is a columnist and feature writer working in the Arts & Life department, as well as the author of the weekly newsletter NEXT. A National Newspaper Award finalist for arts and entertainment writing, Jen is a graduate of the Creative Communications program at RRC Polytech and was a music writer before joining the Free Press in 2013. Read more about Jen. Every piece of reporting Jen produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print – part of the Free Press's tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press's history and mandate, and learn how our newsroom operates. Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber. Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.