| Of
the four books I have written, this is the one I
like most, probably because it springs from such
a singular place. A friend fell terminally ill and
I had a dream, waking with my head full of it at 3am.
I scribbled down the dream and when I read it back
the following morning, far from being horseshit as
is usually the case, it worked: a complete novel in
my head, and now, before it evaporated, sketched into
a notebook. Mungo McFall is a 15-year-old boy with
a refined line in sarcasm whose father dies. Mungo
suffers grief and despair and raging anger before discovering
the truth and power of chance. He also gets the girl
completely wrong. |
|
