The trials, tribulations and downright bitchiness of the UK's weather will be no stranger to those of us posted northside of Hastings. And anyone who has ever felt like their own skin is against them will find empathy with the subject of Monique Roffey's debut novel.

The protagonist, August Chalmin is struggling with a plethora of aesthetic and social hostilities: a reluctant mother, recurrent hippie father figure and a fear of transport that has stranded him in Shepherds Bush for quite some time. Insulting injury his rampant blood orange hair, hulking frame and colourless light-fearing eyes have left his self-esteem and future in a state of agoraphobic reticence. In a desperate attempt to validate his existence, August torments himself with the unknown identity of his father, unable to relate to who he is and what he is to become until the truth is uncovered.

Then, during the throes of a particularly bitter winter in the capital August notices a rash on his arm resembling frost, which transpires to be just that. Content to attribute his meteorological affliction to a reaction to dairy products, August finds himself settling into a curiously happier life. And as spring sprouts little buds between his toes and Summer flowers across his chest, the change in his body lends an analgesic quality to his existence. He feels, for the first time, like he fits his own skin.

The eccentric circle of emotional blaggers and curious foreigners revolving around August's deli workplace shed their various illuminations and complications onto August as he tries to untangle the clandestine realities of his past and the reason why he is sprouting twigs from his ears. There are no great shocks in this gently unravelling tale and its summer release suggests its easygoing nature. But for those in the mood for a temperate climate, it's a bit of a gem. My only criticism is that the 'quieter' players are reluctant to stay in the narrative long enough to achieve their deserved impact, coming and going as they do at random and often badly backed up moments.

With a CV comprising both work with both Amnesty International and Holloway prison it is clear to see where Roffey's diverse appreciation of life and hope stems from. She embraces the loneliness of solitude and family, the elevated status we hold to the fast and loose definitions of truth and fiction, and with confidence examines the intricacies and inconsistencies of how we relate to and adapt ourselves to our environment. The place you are living, the body and the street to be something to truly exist in. Questions of identity, heritage and love are juxtaposed with mouth-watering descriptions of pastries, cheeses, people and furniture to produce a bizarre and highly readable account of change and loss, diffidence and faith, roots and growth.