Catlin has already fallen foul of one such creature - a dark, vicious predator who almost killed her - and only Madeline giving up a part of her own soul was able to bring Catlin back from the brink of death. Now, the girls are making their strange new lives: Catlin, haunted by what happened to her, is isolated and bereft;
In Winter Bayou, Grace journeys through the past, from the heady rush of teenage love to a marriage 'ripped apart too ... shredded and pushed beyond our boundaries' - her meditations forming a perfectly poised novella as lyrically tender as it is viscerally sensuous.
Samuel Beckett and trauma, the collection of eight essays by leading academics, broadens and enriches the present fields of both trauma studies and Beckett studies by illuminating the uniqueness of the trauma in Beckett's work in relation to historical contexts. It also provides new perspectives for discussing trauma and literature more generally. -- .
This sequel to "The Woman of the House" and "Across the River" is a story of love for the home place and of the passions and jealousies it can inspire. A story of resilience in the face of family tragedy; a story, too, of bereavement and grief, and of trying to cope with loss.
The Phelans have owned Mossgrove for generations. But when it is put up for sale, the lengths to which Irish people will go to keep their land become clear. An enchanting novel by Ireland's favourite writer.
In Taylor's second collection of short stories, a woman locks a man in an aeroplane bathroom, two brothers rewrite their past, and strangers in an airport are thrown together through tragedy. Taylor explores confinement and expansion with both humour and angst, as characters are continually forced to redefine their personal landscapes.
A recent widow seeks the services of a psychic, two children are placed in a witness protection programme, a young woman is discovered hiding in a garden shed, and a doctor suddenly disappears. The characters in Taylor's debut collection of short stories inhabit worlds as familiar as your local restaurant and as strange as a locked ward in a psychiatric hospital.
I didn't realise my mother was a person until I was thirteen years old and she pulled me out of bed, put me in the back of her car, and we left home and my dad with no explanations. But when life on the road began to feel normal I couldn't forget the home we'd left behind, couldn't deny that, just like my mother, I too had unfinished business.