An apple tree with a name, the scratch of bark, pink blossom, scabby fruits – a beginning – not that I knew it at the time. I grew up with this tree. Climbed it, ate its fruit, knew it intimately. Wrote it into my novel, drew it onto the cover.
What else. Beetles? I have no idea where the beetle came from, other than the obvious Kafka connection. The woodlice come from what I thought was an apocryphal tale until I saw a television chef make an inedible woodlouse pie, which set me wondering.
The garden is a ‘misbegotten attempt to tame paradise’, of course. Chaos and order in balance? No, not a hope, especially not in suburbia, that strange interface between town and country, where neither is allowed the ascendance.
So I entered the garden by a side door, one rarely used, and described what I saw from an angle not usually viewed. Mum, dad, couple of kids, nice garden with an apple tree and a shed. Looks okay from the outside. But… there be poisons here. Small ones. Insidious ones.
And there is love.
Circaidy Gregory Press will publish this novel in a couple of months’ time. Details to follow.
What else. Beetles? I have no idea where the beetle came from, other than the obvious Kafka connection. The woodlice come from what I thought was an apocryphal tale until I saw a television chef make an inedible woodlouse pie, which set me wondering.
The garden is a ‘misbegotten attempt to tame paradise’, of course. Chaos and order in balance? No, not a hope, especially not in suburbia, that strange interface between town and country, where neither is allowed the ascendance.
So I entered the garden by a side door, one rarely used, and described what I saw from an angle not usually viewed. Mum, dad, couple of kids, nice garden with an apple tree and a shed. Looks okay from the outside. But… there be poisons here. Small ones. Insidious ones.
And there is love.
Circaidy Gregory Press will publish this novel in a couple of months’ time. Details to follow.
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