Ask anyone: I don’t play favourites among the Ticonderoga books. They are all my children (and Liz Grzyb’s too!) and I love them all equally.
But tonight I love Angela Slatter’s collection The Girl With No Hands and other tales the most, just by a little.
Not for the 16 incredible tales it contains. Not because it was our first ever Publishers Weekly review (and a mighty positive one it was, too). Not for the pleasure of working with Angela Slatter. Not for the incredible design work from Lisa L. Hannett on the cover. Not for the Aurealis Award it won. Not for the great story of rejecting “The February Dragon” I’ve walked away with.
For the memories that came flooding back tonight.
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I ended up reading parts of the book to mum one day. It was just the two of us, and mum was passed the stage of being able to talk, but she could still hear. So I read to her, “The Bone Mother” and “The Girl With No Hands” (I also read Jane Routley’s “Bats” from Dead Red Heart).
Tonight, reformatting The Girl With No Hands and other tales for additional ebooking, flicking through the stories, it all came flooding back. Sitting there, reading to mum, just like she would have read to me when I was young.
It’s an incredible book, a powerful book, and a book that for more ways than one I will carry inside me for the rest of my life.
A beautiful if slightly sad recount Russ, brought a tear to my eye.