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****Kate Maruyama’s HARROWGATE is
#88 in the never-ending series called INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION where
the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC)
focuses on one specific excerpt from a fiction genre and how that fiction
writer wrote that specific excerpt. All INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION links
are at the end of this piece.
Name of fiction work? And were there other
names you considered that you would like to share with us?
HARROWGATE. I had saved the file as this, the name of the
building where the story takes place. I came up with tons of other titles
including THRESHOLD which I liked quite a bit, but the publishing company liked
Harrowgate and we went with
it.
Has this been published? And it is totally fine if the answer is no. If yes, what publisher and what publication date?
47North published this book in September 2013
What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction?
What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction?
This started out as the last five pages of a
screenplay written in 1999. The screenplay was terrible, but those five pages
wouldn’t leave me. It then bloomed into a novel in my graduate program at
Antioch University Los Angeles.
Where did you do most of your writing
for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please
include a photo? I wrote/write at my dining table as my kids
grew up around me. It’s usually a disaster area as my husband often works at
home and my kids did/do their homework at this table. I worked while they were
at school. Perhaps it will get tidier as they go off to college (this is my
last year with them) but we’ll see. All I ask is quiet, I gave up tidying up
before working as it would take too long and eats up valuable work time.
What were your writing habits while writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? Laptop. You have two kids and two jobs, you work whenever you find a spare minute. Patterns varied throughout. I made sure to sit down at least three times a week for three hours at a time and made sure to get out at least two or three pages during that time. But sometimes it came much longer, sometimes if I had a little more time before getting my kids from school I worked straight through. When I was editing for my publisher I was working 8, 9 hour days as we had a very short time span in which to complete a huge developmental rewrite.
What is the summary of this specific
fiction work? I don’t like to summarize, for reasons of
spoilers, but this is the jacket copy: Michael should be overjoyed by the birth of his son, but his
wife, Sarah won't let him touch the baby or allow anyone to visit.
Greta, an intrusive,
sinister doula has wormed her way into their lives, driving a wedge between
Michael and his family. Every time he leaves the Harrowgate, he returns to find
his beloved wife and baby altered. He feels his family slipping away and, as a
malevolent force begins to creep in, Michael does what any new father would
do—he fights to keep his family together.
Kate Maruyama’s debut
novel, Harrowgate, is a
chilling, richly detailed story of love, loss, and the haunted place that lies
between. And how I pitch it when people ask: A man’s
wife and kid are dead but still living with him. He tries to make it work.
Can you give the reader just enough information for them to understand what is going on in the excerpt? Michael’s wife Sarah, and child, Tim are dead (Sarah lost Tim and died in childbirth) but living with him in his apartment. Time moves differently for them, so any time there is an interruption, like a visitor or when Michael steps out for groceries, Sarah disappears and months pass for her. When they return to each other, Sarah is more emaciated and Tim has aged considerably. Michael’s mother, Helen and his sister, Anna drop by and are insisting on a funeral for his wife and child. Michael is panicked by the idea of a funeral, what will happen to his family if he leaves the apartment, and where Sarah goes when she disappears on him? Michael wants Anna and Helen to leave, but he knows that more time spent with them now means that they might leave him alone later. Helen has been away too long and knows him too well to accept a quick goodbye. The lies are building. He feels a childish shame, lying to Sarah, lying to his mother. But this keeps Sarah and Tim with him. He’s doing this for his family. People have done worse to keep their families together.
Please include just one excerpt and include
page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long as you
prefer. This appears at the beginning of Chapter Eight
in the book.
He leads them into the kitchen, hoping that the act of
making them tea will cover up whatever body language his mother can read.
Helen says, "How are you holding up, honey?"
He doesn't know why his mother's comforting voice makes him want to cry, but he
reminds himself that it would be perfectly natural for him to totally lose it
right now.
He clears his throat. "As well as can be
expected." Fill the kettle. Start by
filling the kettle.
She says, "Anna said you were doing all right and
I flew home as soon as I knew you were back. I kept calling."
Anna says, "He's not doing the phone these
days." Now that Sarah's not here to
annoy, maybe she feels the need to annoy someone.
His mother is trying to smooth over Anna's sharp tone,
"She picked me up at the airport and we came right here." She has
something stored up to say; he can tell by her overly pleasant tone.
Michael asks, "How's London?" Is small talk
allowed? Turn the burner on. Get out the
milk.
He goes to the fridge and opens it wide, but closes it
quickly almost all the way when he sees two bottles of breast milk in the door.
Well, they were bottles of breast milk. They look absurdly empty and clean,
like they came with the fridge, like ice trays. Michael snakes his arm into the
fridge and fetches out the mercifully narrow carton of milk.
Helen says, "London's…nice. Michael, we need to
talk about the funeral."
Funeral.
Fuck. This was gonna
happen. You knew it was gonna happen.
Mugs.
Get the mugs.
Now Anna starts, "We're doing it Saturday. Mom
can't wait any longer."
Helen chimes in, "You have to understand how this
is for Betsy. This is her daughter. She needs to lay her to rest."
Why does he feel like they're trying to talk him into
breaking up with Sarah? Like they're her bitchy high school friends, offloading
a boyfriend with that "this is for your own good" tone.
Anna says, "No big deal. A bare bones funeral.
Sarah wanted her ashes scattered…"
Michael says, "No."
Anna says, "It was her wish. She wanted her ashes
scattered in the cloisters where we used to play when we were little."
Michael snaps, "That was a promise she made to
you when you were twelve."
Anna looks like she's been slapped; tears come to her
eyes.
He realizes he's been a little sharp, but if they
scatter the ashes, will she be gone? And he was gone too long. And maybe she's
gone already. But Anna's acting like a little brat.
She's not letting this one go. "She always
said."
He's losing his temper, at least his voice is, he
doesn't know what he's feeling. He says, "She always said that you two
made hundreds of pinkie promises when you were little and it's the sweetest
thing I've ever heard, but I think this is up to me now."
No, he's pissed. Why can't they go away and leave them
alone?
Anna stands, stunned. Helen walks up behind Michael and
lays her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He succumbs for a moment to
give her that knowledge that she's doing some good, but then gently extracts
himself and goes to the cabinet for the teapot.
They only have one. They got it while honeymooning in
London. They spent all day in Camden market looking for the perfect English
teapot. White, simple, big enough to hold several cups, tall enough to keep
from spilling out the lid when poured. They talked endlessly over that teapot;
it was an obsession of Sarah's. Finding it in a little shop in Islington one
day before their flight out was a major victory. She put it in her carry-on
wrapped in sweaters so it wouldn't be broken on the trip home.
A week later, they were hustling down Madison Avenue
to get to the subway on their way to dinner at a friend's apartment. It was a
gray November evening, pissing rain and Michael stopped, stock still in front
of the Crate and Barrel. Looming there were shelves upon shelves of the same
model of teapot. His heart sank when he saw the display, wanting to protect
Sarah's obsession, her gratification over finding the right pot. He tried to
get between her and the window but it was too big and bright. All was gray and
dark outside and there was the dazzlingly lit display against a brilliant red
background. He threaded his arm around her waist and started steering her past
it, when he saw her look up and catch a glimpse. The moment of recognition,
astonishment. Her face fell. Then it lit up and she laughed.
Sarah said, "See! I told you it was the perfect
fucking teapot!" She shoved him in the chest and then pulled him in for a
squeeze. Her hair was wet and cold, her scalp warm underneath when he kissed
her head. He remembers feeling lucky he married her.
Helen interrupts his reverie, trying to smooth things
over again. "Whatever you do with the ashes, honey, she has to have a
funeral. Too long has passed."
He hasn't had long enough. He won't be able to protect
her from this either. Too many teapots.
He turns around to see Anna
mouthing to Helen, "You tell him."
He says, "Tell me
what?"
Helen looks at Anna, and
then says, "Michael, honey. Her mother has bought coffins. And. Betsy is
set on having a coffin for the baby."
Anna chimes in, anxious to push
the point home, "I didn't like it and I tried to talk her out of it, but
then when you said you'd named it, I thought maybe you'd be okay."
Him. Named him. Fuck. Please leave. Leave now.
Helen says, "You can keep the ashes, honey.
They're only coffins."
Only coffins. He doesn't move. His hands have moved to the counter
and he's not sure if he wants to fall to the ground, slug Anna or collapse into
his mother's arms and weep for days.
There's the hand on his
shoulder again. But if she hugs him, he'll completely lose his shit. He pulls
his shoulder away like a petulant teenager and moves over to the table, sitting
in one of the chairs. There's Rosie the Riveter, stuck in her triumphant smile,
"WE CAN DO IT!" A conspiracy of women doing what is needed.
There must some magic spell that will make them go
away. Who gives a fuck about coffins? Empty boxes. Doesn't matter. Will it be white? Will it look tiny in that
gigantic church?
Is he worried that he'll cry at the funeral? He's
supposed to cry. Now he's only worried about Sarah and where she and Tim are.
He has to get rid of Anna and his mother.
His voice is definitely
cracking enough. "You guys. Fine. Okay. Whatever." This helps. The
kettle whistles, giving him something to do. Relieved, he gets up to pour it.
Anna asks, "And the
ashes?"
"Give that one up,
Anna. What time?"
Helen smiles, tears coming
to her eyes again, "My brave boy." That means so much more now that
he has a boy of his own. So much about his mother means more, now that he knows
that feeling, that pull, that need to do anything he can for his child. He
tries not to think about the fact that he won't get to see Tim grow up. He
tries to think of what to say.
Helen says, "It'll be at ten in the morning; the
church is booked."
Pour the water. Change the
subject. He says, "Where are you staying?"
The tea is brewing and
Anna's moving back down the hall. Michael follows her, hoping for an odd moment
that she's headed toward the door. But soon he finds himself following her
awkwardly to what very well might be the bathroom. He continues his path with
purpose as if he had business at that end of the apartment. Helen follows him, the end of an awkward
parade.
Helen chatters with relief for the question. It's the
easy part, the everyday. "The subletter miraculously bailed on the lease
two weeks ago. I'm at 336. It's kind of a wreck, but it'll do. I can stay for
up to a month if you need me." The address for his grandmother's home
became its name somewhere along the way. 336 Central Park West, 1920s. Two
bedroom apartment most definitely not overlooking the park.
Anna's going back into the
nursery. Michael's getting anxious. There's an awkward pause in the
conversation as she heads over to the bookshelf. He wonders if it's too soon to
say goodbye; how soon would arouse suspicion. A little too loudly, he speaks
like a host at a party, "Wow. Well…you must be tired." What is Anna
after?
His mother smiles at him;
she knows her cue. She claps her hands on both of his shoulders and squeezes,
looking at him warmly; he feels like he just aced a spelling test or something,
uncertain of what kind of praise he's going to receive. She says, "Be
strong, Michael, we'll get through this." She drops her arms, he goes in
to kiss her, but she stops him, saying "If I hug you I'll start crying
again."
Anna has gone to Tim's bookshelf and is running her
fingers along the bindings. She pulls out a tattered copy of Four Fur Feet by Margaret Wise Brown.
She tucks it under her arm.
Her fingers trail along until they find a first
edition of Where the Wild Things Are.
She takes that as well. Anger surges in Michael as he sees her continue the
process, looking for more pieces of Sarah to take with her.
"Anna." he says, too sharply. He can't make
this an issue, he has to pick his battles. If he makes this an issue they'll
stay longer.
Anna looks embarrassed, caught. "I…was going
to…I'm sorry, but they were ours and I was thinking of my children…" she
trails off and starts to put them back. Anna's nowhere near having children and
her imaginary future children are somehow challenging the existence of Tim.
What
if he gets old enough to read? But Michael says,
"No, it's okay."
She looks at him and vacillates for a moment before
taking them down and grabbing two Beatrix Potter books while she's at it. She's
like a child who's been given permission to take some candy and grabs an extra
piece with some shame. She slips out of the room and heads toward the front
door. Michael follows.
Helen turns to him as she passes, her brow furrowed
with concern. She says, "I'll take you to dinner tomorrow night. You're
losing weight."
He says, "I was in the field, Mom."
"All the more reason. Dawat. Tomorrow
night."
Michael scrambles, "Can you. I'll be dealing with
stuff around here. Can you bring it?" He knows what happens sometimes when
he goes down the hall. He doesn't know what happens if he leaves the building
for the time it would take to eat a meal. The funeral is still five days away.
Maybe only five more days with Sarah and Tim. Maybe more, he doesn't know.
His mother regards him a moment and agrees with a nod,
stepping out the door. Anna reaches in, pecks Michael on the cheek, dropping
one of the small Beatrix Potter books. She scrambles for Jemima Puddleduck and heads out the door. Stupid book anyway. Dumb
duck. The door slams shut with too much of an echo. Michael closes his eyes for
a moment, not wanting to find the apartment empty. Not wanting to look.
He feels hands creep around his chest, holding his
arms down. Sarah's doing a spooky voice, chanting rhythmically, "He travels round the world on his four fur
feet, his four fur feet, his four fur feet, he travels round the world on his
four fur feet and never makes a sound, oh." He spins around and catches her, tickling;
she laughs.
"You're freaking me out, lady." He puts his
arms around hers now, pinning her. Keeping her. How long can he keep her?
She laughs, trying to squirm free, "That book
always creeped me out when I was little."
"Why did you put it on Tim's shelf?"
She shrugs. "Sentimentality."
He kisses her, not letting go of her arms, "I'm
so glad to see you." He relaxes, pushing her away and looking her over.
Not worse. Still skinny. Warming up. She's wearing the peach batik again and he
can't help but think she wants something when she does this. Living Sarah
refused to wear this so many times, that her wearing it now worries him.
Michael looks concerned and she mirrors his face,
asking, "What?"
He asks, "How long has it been? For you, I
mean." On her confused stare, he says, "How long have I been
gone?"
She says, "You only just went out."
"I don't understand." He pulls her to him
again, happy to hold her bony form.
"How long were you gone?" She asks this like
she understands the question.
Milo. Dr. James. Anna. Mom. A thousand years?
"Uh, like an hour?"
She looks up at him, frowning a question, but then
shrugs, "It is what it is, honey."
Michael asks, "Where's Tim?"
"Sleeping." She hugs him tighter. "Let
him sleep."
"How long have you been here?" He doesn't
understand how she knew about Four Fur
Feet or when she came back or what she overheard.
She says, "I don't know. Stop asking questions,
you're making me nervous. What did my sister want? Aside from the books."
He feels he’s balancing lies on both sides now and
it’s hard to keep track of how much information he should give, how much he’s
already given. How much he needs to manipulate. He's glad she didn't hear
everything. He doesn't want to talk about the funeral. Not yet. He'll tell her
about it that day in case it's goodbye, but he doesn't want to worry her. He'll
spend every minute with her until then.
He says, "Mom flew in, you know. She wanted to
touch base."
"That's who it was." She traces her hand
around his cheek, fondly, "Her boy."
He says, "It's different, isn't it? Now that we
have Tim, everyone is different."
"Especially parents." She looks into space a
moment. "I don’t think I could handle seeing my mother now."
He says, "She can't handle seeing me, so it works
out for everyone."
"Can't get rid of my sister."
Michael smiles. "She loves you." Looking at
Sarah, he understands Anna's behavior. She lost her best friend and her compass
and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how weird he's going to get when
Sarah's gone for good. Maybe he'll get
snippy and petty, too.
But Sarah's face has fallen. She looks startled and a
little distraught. A smile glimmers for a moment, but her face goes back to
incredulous. Michael wheels around. The sympathy bouquets. More teapots.
Sarah moves toward them, her fingers pass lightly over
them and her shoulders slump, defeated.
Michael says, "I'm sorry, they must have come…I
bet Anna and my Mom brought some. I. I'm sorry."
She touches one of the lilies and squeezes the petal
between her fingers. She smiles, looking at Michael. "Nothing to be done,
is there? I mean, it's there, isn't it?" She makes a Vanna White sweep of
the table with her arms, saying grandiosely, "and it appears that you need
sympathy." She starts to go through the cards, reading them aloud.
Her theatricality is thorny. "So sorry for your
loss." She tosses it on the table. She pulls another one, "If there's
anything I can do." She flicks it in the air and it lands on the rug.
"Our hearts go out to you in this time of need." She pulls another
one. "Call me." Her eyebrow goes up and she laughs, "My
replacement's moving in."
He plays along warily. "Who is it?"
"Caroline."
"Ha." His partner's gay, so the joke works,
but the edginess in Sarah's tone is increasing. He's not sure where she's
headed, but it's nowhere good.
She reads, "We're sorry for your loss." Flick. "We are so sorry for your
loss." She's angry now. "'We are so
sorry for your loss.' What did you lose, Michael, can I help you find it? Was
it a ring? A puppy? A home?" She's getting hysterical and the temperature
in the room has plummeted by at least twenty degrees. "What did you lose?" She pulls the
cards out of all of the other arrangements without reading them, throwing them
on the table.
She then starts pulling at flowers, their petals
coming off in her hands, releasing their woody floral odor. She seems to find
that satisfying, and pulls at more. Soon, she's reaching into the dark forest
of sympathy bouquets and ripping heads off the flowers, fistful by fistful,
throwing them into the air. Michael hears a sickly plinking. Some of the
blossoms make a completely unexpected noise when they hit the table: they've
frozen. Frost-covered stems remain.
Michael says, "Sarah."
All warm color has gone from her; her face is gray,
her thinness shadowed and he sees that she's wearing the nursing gown again;
the same one he'd seen her wear that night he came home from the grocery store.
Her arms fall by her sides as she sits down in a chair, still.
He speaks sharply to her as if to a child.
"Sarah." She looks up at him, glowering. She breathes heavily, the
shadows in her clavicles growing and receding. There's something in her eyes
that was not there in life, a darkness lurking. He's frightened by this look.
"Sarah!" His call leaves a breath of mist in the air. She's not
answering him; she's looking right at him, her eyes focused on something beyond
him in another place.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt? I like that push/pull between worlds and loves, between the family we come from and the family we live in. And how terrifyingly isolating it is when you can’t help your spouse through whatever emotional moment they are having.
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? Anything edited was an excellent choice in editing. As it was edited on the computer, I don’t have marked up drafts and my editor wouldn’t like his notes shared publicly, I think. He was excellent, but asked that his identity remain private.
Other works you have published? I have published short pieces in several print and online journals as well as in three anthologies. You can find more on my WRITINGS page here:
Anything you would like to add? Thank you for having me!
Kate
Maruyama was raised on
books and weaned on movies in a small college town in New England. She writes,
teaches, cooks, and eats in Los Angeles, where she lives with her family.
Her novel, Harrowgate was published by 47North in 2013 and her short story, “Akiko” is featured in Phantasma: Stories and “Crying Wolf” is featured in Winter Horror Days. “La Calavera” can be found in Halloween Carnival: Volume 3. Her short, non-genre fiction has been published in Arcadia Magazine, Stoneboat and on Role Reboot, Gemini Magazine, Salon, The Rumpus and Duende, among others. You can peruse some of these pieces on the Writings page.
Her novel, Harrowgate was published by 47North in 2013 and her short story, “Akiko” is featured in Phantasma: Stories and “Crying Wolf” is featured in Winter Horror Days. “La Calavera” can be found in Halloween Carnival: Volume 3. Her short, non-genre fiction has been published in Arcadia Magazine, Stoneboat and on Role Reboot, Gemini Magazine, Salon, The Rumpus and Duende, among others. You can peruse some of these pieces on the Writings page.
She holds an MFA in Creative Writing
from Antioch University Los Angeles, where she is now affiliate faculty with
the BA program. She is an instructor with Writing Workshops Los Angeles and co-founded and edits the literary website, Annotation Nation. She has served as a juror for The Bram Stoker Awards and
for the Shirley Jackson Awards.
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
001 11 15 2018 Nathaniel
Kaine’s
Thriller Novel
John
Hunter – The Veteran
002 11 18 2018 Ed
Protzzel’s
Futuristic/Mystery/Thriller
The
Antiquities Dealer
003 11 23 2018 Janice
Seagraves’s
Science
Fiction Romance
Exodus
Arcon
004 11 29 2018
Christian Fennell’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
The Fiddler
in the Night
005 12 02 2018 Jessica
Mathews’s
Adult
Paranormal Romance
Death
Adjacent
006 12 04 2018 Robin Jansen’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
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Indomitable
007 12 12 2018 Adair Valerez’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
Scrim
008 12 17 218
Kit Frazier’s
Mystery Novel
Dead Copy
009 12 21 2019 Robert Craven’s
Noir/Spy Novel
The Road
of a Thousand Tigers
010 01 13 2019 Kristine Goodfellow’s
Contemporary
Romantic Fiction
The Other
Twin
011 01 17 2019 Nancy J Cohen’s
Cozy Mystery
Trimmed To
Death
012 01 20 2019 Charles Salzberg’s
Crime Novel
Second
Story Man
013 01 23 2019 Alexis Fancher’s
Flash Fiction
His Full
Attention
014 01 27 2019 Brian L Tucker’s
Young Adult/Historical
POKEWEED: AN ILLUSTRATED NOVELLA
015 01 31 2019 Robin Tidwell’s
Dystopian
Reduced
016 02 07 2019 J.D. Trafford’s
Legal
Fiction/Mystery
Little Boy
Lost
017 02 08 2019 Paula Shene’s
Young Adult
ScieFi/Fantasy/Romance/Adventure
My Quest
Begins
018 02 13 2019 Talia Carner’s
Mainstream
Fiction/ Suspense/ Historical
Hotel
Moscow
019 02 15 2019 Rick Robinson’s
Multidimensional
Fiction
Alligator
Alley
020 02 21 2019 LaVerne Thompson’s
Urban Fantasy
The Soul
Collectors
021 02 27 2019 Marlon L Fick’s
Post-Colonialist
Novel
The
Nowhere Man
022 03 02 2019 Carol Johnson’s
Mainstream
Novel
Silk And
Ashes
023 03 06 2019 Samuel Snoek-Brown’s
Short Story
Collection
There Is
No Other Way to Worship Them
024 03 08 2019 Marlin Barton’s
Short Story
Collection
Pasture
Art
025 03 18 2019 Laura Hunter’s
Historical
Fiction
Beloved
Mother
026 03 21 2019 Maggie Rivers’s
Romance
Magical
Mistletoe
027 03 25 2019 Faith
Gibson’s
Paranormal
Romance
Rafael
028 03 27 2019 Valerie Nieman’s
Tall Tale
To The
Bones
029 04 04 2019 Betty Bolte’s
Paranormal
Romance
Veiled
Visions of Love
030 04 05 2019 Marianne
Maili’s
Tragicomedy
Lucy, go
see
031 04 10 2019 Gregory Erich Phillips’s
Mainstream
Fiction
The Exile
032 04 15 2019 Jason Ament’s
Speculative
Fiction
Rabid Dogs
033 04 24 2019 Stephen P. Keirnan’s
Historical
Novel
The
Baker’s Secret
034 05 01 2019 George Kramer’s
Fantasy
Arcadis:
Prophecy Book
035 05 05 2019 Erika Sams’s
Adventure/Fantasy/Romance
Rose of Dance
036 05 07 2019 Mark Wisniewski’s
Literary
Fiction
Watch Me
Go
037 05 08 2019 Marci Baun’s
Science
Fiction/Horror
The
Whispering House
038 05 10 2019 Suzanne M. Wolfe’s
Historical
Fiction
Murder By
Any Name
039 05 12 2019 Edward DeVito’s
Historical/Fantasy
The
Woodstock Paradox
040 05 14 2019 Gytha Lodge’s
Literary/Crime
She Lies
In Wait
041 05 16 2019 Kari Bovee’s
Historical
Fiction/Mystery
Peccadillo
At The Palace: An Annie Oakley Mystery
042 05 20 2019 Annie Seaton’s
Time Travel
Romance
Follow Me
043 05 22 2019 Paula Rose Michelson’s
Inspirational
Christian Romance
Rosa &
Miguel – Love’s Legacy: Prequel to The Naomi
Chronicles
044 05 24 2019 Gracie C McKeever’s
BDMS/Interracial
Romance
On The
Edge
045 06 03 2019 Micheal Maxwell’s
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The Soul
of Cole
046 06 04 2019 Jeanne Mackin’s
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Collection: A Novel of Elsa Schiaparelli
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Coco
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047 06 07 2019 Philip Shirley’s
Suspense/Thriller
The
Graceland Conspiracy
048 06 08 2019 Bonnie Kistler’s
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049 06 13 2019 Barbara Taylor Sissel’s
Domestic
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“No Good Deed” from Down to the River
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Wings
Unseen
056 07 02 2019 Randee Green’s
Mystery Novel
Criminal
Misdeeds
057 07 03 2019 Saralyn Ricahrd’s
Mystery Novel
Murder In
The One Percent
#058 07 04 2019 Hannah Mary McKinnon’s
Domestic Suspense
Her Secret
Son
#059 07 05 2019 Sonia Saikaley’s
Contemporary
Women’s Literature
The
Allspice Bath
#060 07 09 2019 Olivia Gaines’s
Romance
Suspense Serial
Blind Luck
#061 07 11 2019 Anne Raeff’s
Literary
Fiction
Winter
Kept Us Warm
#062 07 12 2918 Vic Sizemore’s
Literary
Fiction-Short Stories
I Love You
I’m Leaving
#063 07 13 2019 Deborah Riley Magnus’s
Dark
Paranormal Urban Fantasy
THE ORPHANS
BOOK ONE: THE LOST RACE
TRILOGY
#064 07 14 2019 Elizabeth Bell’s
Historical
Fiction
NECESSARY
SINS
#065 07 15 2019 Lori Baker Martin’s
Literary Novel
BITTER
WATER
#066 08 01 2019 Sabine Chennault’s
Historical
Novel
THE
CORPSMAN’S WIFE
#067 08 02 2019 Margaret Porter’s
Historical Biographical
Fiction
BEAUTIFUL
INVENTION: A NOVEL OF HEDY LAMARR
#068 08 04 2019 Hank Phillippi Ryan’s
Suspense
THE MURDER
LIST
069 08 08 2019 Diana Y. Paul’s
Literary
Mainstream Fiction
THINGS
UNSAID
070 08 10 2019 Phyllis H. Moore’s
Women’s
Historical Fiction
BIRDIE
& JUDE
071 08 11 2019 Sara Dahmen’s
Historical
Fiction
TINSMITH 1865
072 08 19 2019 Carolyn
Breckinridge’s
Short Story
Collection
KALIEDESCOPE
& OTHER STORIES
073 08 21 2019 Alison Ragsdale’s
Emotional Women’s
Fiction
THE ART OF
REMEMBERING
074 08 22 2019 Lee
Matthew Goldberg’s
Suspense
Thriller
THE DESIRE
CARD
075 08 23 2019 Jonathan Brown’s
Mystery/Amateur
P.I.
THE BIG
CRESCENDO
076 09 02 2019 Chera Hammons Miller’s
Literary
Fiction w/ suspense, concern with animals & land management
Monarchs
of the Northeast Kingdom
077 09 09 019 Joe William Taylor’s
Literary
Mystery
The Theoretics of Love
078 09 15 2019 Linda Hughes’s
Romantic Suspense
Secret of the Island
079 09 19 2019 Max Elliot Anderson’s
Middle Grade Adventure/Mystery
Snake Island
080 09 22 2019 Danny Adams’s
Science Fiction
Dayworld: A Hole In Wednesday
081 09 24 2019 Arianna Dagnino’s
Social/Historical/Adventure
The Afrikaner
082 09 29 2019 Lawrence Verigin’s
Thriller/Suspense
Seed of Control
083 10 05 2019 Emma Khoury’s
Fantasy
The Sword And Shield
#084 10 07 2019 Steve McManus’s
Mystery/Suspense/Thriller
SEVEN DEVILS
#085 10 08 2019 Sheila Lowe’s
Mystery/Psychological/Suspense
with Scientific Bent
PROOF OF LIVE
#086 10 10 2019 Jess Neal Woods’s
Historical Fiction
THE PROCESS OF FRAYING
#087 10 11 2019 Karen Odden’s
Historical
Suspense
A TRACE OF DECEIT
#88 10 14 2019 Kate Maruyama’s
Love, Loss
& Supernatural
“HARROWGATE”
https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/10/88-inside-emotion-of-fiction-harrowgate.html
“HARROWGATE”
https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/10/88-inside-emotion-of-fiction-harrowgate.html
