Are we all subject to the violence and secrets of our mind, forever marked by them?
Haunted by the memory of her parent's gory murders, Abigail Moore's life is shaped by a nebulous feeling of guilt. She is sent off to her loving grandmother who is fashioned from the same clay as she is. Gramme Kathleen lives in a small close-knit Roman Catholic community on Gloriosa Street, a street that crackles with the energy of its people; people who live secret lives camouflaged, rendered almost invisible in a country that teems with billions - India.
On her grandmother's death Abigail is set adrift once more and decides to return to New Zealand, the country of her birth. There she is reunited with her step-brothers Robert and Kenneth. Though they are strangers to her, she cannot deny the tenuous link she shares with them - memories of that terrifying night.
Memory, they say can be imperfect, and can throw up surprises, as Abigail soon discovers. Will the truth she uncovers rouse the murderer into striking again? Will she be his next victim?
To readers who need a thrilling murder/mystery to tantalize the senses, and for those who are given to rooting for the underdog in hopes she'll someday blunder into the amazing person she's meant to be - this one's for you.
This is a coming-to-wisdom story written by the author of They Whisper in my Blood. There's nuanced character growth and zippy prose. An across-the-board assault on the senses.
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ISBN-13
978-1-9911654-3-5 (9781991165435)
Schweitzer Klassifikation
Franciska Soares writes hauntingly poignant literary fiction featuring enigmatic histories, forgotten communities and spirited, unbowed women. The product of a strict Roman Catholic upbringing, she claims the characters who populate her books often give her a bit of a fright. That's because Franciska is a conformist and hates confrontation. In fact, her friends and family claim she's a Miss Goody-two-shoes and she doesn't mind that portrayal one bit as it rings true. Her characters on the other hand love to challenge the status quo and are not averse to pushing the boundaries, sexual or ethical. They are imperfect and flawed and that's what makes them human, memorable, Franciska alleges.When she isn't reading or writing poetry and fiction (the iambic pace of her prose oftentimes resounds like a drumbeat), Franciska is probably walking the picturesque Frankton Arm in Queenstown meditating on her writing and the snow-capped Remarkables that tower over Lake Wakatipu, container gardening, or watching edgy black comedy on Netflix.
