Joe and Ann Hartle have been tenant farmers on the North Yorkshire moors for more than 30 years, but pushing 60 and "dog-tired", they've little to show for their labours apart from mounting debts, a "clapped-out" tractor, a herd of sheep worth next to nothing and the prospect of impoverished old age.

Max, their eldest son, is supposed to be taking over the farm, but he's barely coping with the responsibilities he's already got: a newly pregnant wife who's learnt to close down her emotions, "not in a petulant way, but just practical, so the nerve endings aren't exposed. Like insulation tape around a wire." Down south, running a garden centre, supposedly shirking his familial duty, is Max's brother, Bartholomew, but he, too, feels "laden with obligation" – to his parents, their farm, the bank, but most of all his girlfriend, Ruby.

Then Joe and Ann face a series of tragedies that turn their lives "black". Their only option is to lean on Max and Bartholomew like never before, but in doing so they're forced to confront the grim reality of how their sons, once "everything, every bit of potential that existed", have grown up to just be "hairy and fat about the middle and limited, like everyone was".

Journalist Susie Steiner's debut novel is kitchen-sink drama meets The Archers – a powerful, visceral portrait of the ties that bind, and those that break. Steiner has written a truly exceptional study of human flaws and frailties, down to the detail of a man's unthinking choice of "that slippery wrapping paper that's extra thin – extra cheap" used for a supposed loved-one's Christmas present; and the ordinary tragedies of possibility that amount to nothing and people who continually disappoint.