Red Ink

Descripción

Review Although Red Ink is billed as a coming-of-age tale, it would be a pity for older readers to dismiss it. There are so many nuances and such precise observations that Red Ink transcends categorisation. I loved it... -- Hope Whitmore, Independent on SundayThis is a brilliantly observed story of grief, sacrifice and redemption - and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters, Daily MailRed Ink is heart-breaking and ultimately uplifting., We Love This BookThis is a wonderful book about the damage that lies and myths can ultimately do to a family and how the truth, though harsh, really can set you free., The Bookseller Children's Bookseller's Choice: FebruaryThis beautifully-written coming-of-age story is at once heartbreaking, and full of robust humour and hopefulness. Shot through with black comedy, and with a fantastically frank and funny narrator in Melon, this challenging and uncompromising young adult novel interrogates family, identity, memory and the myths and superstitions we create for ourselves. Powerful, unusual and enormously compelling, Red Ink marks out Julie Mayhew as a young adult author to watch., Booktrust Books We Like: February 2013Following her mother's sudden death 15-year-old Melon embarks on a journey of discovery in this darkly funny, emotionally raw coming-of-age debut., The Bookseller Children's Bookseller's Choice: FebruaryMelon's distinctive voice narrates events past and present and captures the gamut of emotions experienced by a teenager who loses her mother and has to find a new identity., The Bookseller Children's Bookseller's Choice: February Book Description Sometimes lies are safer than the truth From the Back Cover When her mother is knocked down and killed by a London bus, fifteen-year-old Melon Fouraki is left with no family worth mentioning. He mother, Maria, never did introduce her to a 'living, breathing' father.The indomitable Auntie Aphrodite, meanwhile, is hundreds of miles away on a farm in Crete, and is unlikely to be jumping on a plane and coming to East Finchley anytime soon. But at least Melon has 'The story'. 'The story' is the Fourakis family fairytale. A story is something.RED INK is a powerful coming-of-age tale about superstition, denial and family myth. About the Author Julie Mayhew writes plays for radio and the stage. Her short stories are published in the UK and the US, and she is working on a second novel. Julie grew up in Peterborough, studied Journalism at Bournemouth University and trained as an actress at Drama Studio London. She still acts (a bit), mostly for BBC Radio 4. Home is now Hertfordshire, where she lives with her husband and two young sons. Find out more about Julie at www.juliemayhew.co.uk or follow her on Twitter: @Juliemayhew Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The tube train clatters into the station, shouting down the silence and whipping my hair across my face. The current of air makes the boys' fringes do the Mexican wave. They're rooted to the spot, looking at their feet. The doors stop right in front of me and the doors nearest to the boys will take them onto the same carriage. I expect them to move along to another bit of the train, but that would mean acknowledging that they've seen me. Too embarrassing. The doors open. We all get on to an empty carriage. "Mind the gap." That's where I am right now, in the gap. Please mind the gap between the death of your mother and the edge of normal. The doors close. I sit down. Only when the train hiccups into life do I dare check where they are. They're on the seats by the glass panel at the end of the carriage. They're looking at me now, but they're not saying anything. I'm in the middle of the train, another two glass panels of protection away. I won't need it though. They're not going to do the thing with my name. I can feel the pity oozing off them, although they're grudging about it at the same time. Mum dying has spoiled their game. Murray gives me a soppy look, Dylan nods. It feels like being patted on the head by an old relative. The train clangs into the dark of the tunnel. This is the weirdest thing to say but, I actually preferred it when the boys took the piss.