• Guest Post

    Guest Post: Top ten influences from Tabitha Sazuma

    Today I have Tabitha Sazuma, author of the very well known and loved Forbidden and new book Hurt, on the blog sharing her top ten influences when it comes to writing. These are fantastic and I can really tell why they would have such an impact on her. For those of you who are not familar with Tabitha please check out my reviews of Forbidden and Hurt, and check out her website. 1. Personal experience: For example; my lifelong battle with depression, an abusive childhood, leaving school at 14, bringing up my little brother… 2. Music.  I have quite an eclectic taste. Classical, especially Mozart and Rachmaninov. Film soundtracks to…

  • Book Review,  Reviews

    Hurt – Tabitha Sazuma

    “He opens his eyes and knows instantly that something is terribly wrong. He senses it through his skin, his nerves, his synapses, even though, spread-eagled on his back, all he can see is the frosted light-fitting on his bedroom ceiling. The room is white, violently bright and he knows that it is a sunny day and he forgot to close the curtains, just as he knows, from the belt cutting into his side, the denim against his legs, the clammy cotton sticking to his chest, that he slept in his clothes.” Mathéo wakes to find his room in tatters. It is like something from a nightmare and he can’t remember…

  • Letterbox Love

    Letterbox Love (#49)

    Welcome to Letterbox Love, this is a UK meme, hosted by the lovely Lynsey at Narratively Speaking and inspired by The Story Siren’s In My Mailbox. This post is a means by which to highlight the books we get in the post and beyond, and especially to bring attention to those books which may be sat on our shelves for a little while yet that we love all the same. Some brilliant books received this week and some were very unexpected so thank you so, so much to the publishers for these. I try my hardest to get my reviews of books up as quickly as possible and even if I haven’t…

  • Uncategorized

    Forbidden – Tabitha Suzuma

    “I gaze at the small, crisp, burned-out black husks scattered across the chipped white paint of the windowsills. It is hard to believe that they were ever alive. I wonder what it would be like to be shut up in this airless glass box, slowly baked for two long months by the relentless sun, able to see the outdoors – the wind shaking the green trees right there in front on you – hurling yourself again and again at the invisible wall that seals you off from everything that is real and alive and necessary until eventually you succumb: scorched, exhausted, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the task. “ 16 and 17…