Heather Parry

'A compelling, creepy tale' The Independent ‘A chilling exploration of power, love and grief' Julia Armfield, author of Our Wives Under the Sea 'I am in awe of this wonderful book' Edward Carey, author of Little Wilhelm von Tore is dying. As he looks back on his life he reflects on his upbringing in Dresden, his beloved grandmother and his medical career during the second world war. But mostly he remembers his darling Luci, the great love of his life, his dark-haired beauty promised to him in a dream years before they met. Though only together for a few months in her first life, their love is written in the stars. Using scientific research compiled over decades, Wilhelm ensures that, for him and his beloved, death is only the beginning. But through the cracks in Wilhem’s story there is another voice, that of Gabriela, and she will not let this version of events go unchallenged. She tells the story of her sister Luciana, fearless and full of life, and the madman who robbed her from her grave. Based on a chilling true story, Orpheus Builds a Girl is the debut novel from award-winning author Heather Parry.

Orpheus Builds A Girl

Laura Dobie

It was seven hours across to America. Just seven hours to change who we were entirely. As we neared that new country Luci slept, still red and with her face all covered in rage. I slipped under Papá's arm while he looked out at the dying afternoon and asked him why we had to go to America. He said we were leaving Cuba because Mamá needed ice for her daiquiris; no woman could live in so hot a city without her ice.

It is not hard to see a man's darkest desires. No matter how cleverly they think they hide it, you can always see it, plain as day.

At that, she reached her spoon over the table and took the last mouthful of my sweet black cherry. I laughed, the greedy litle Luci never changing, but as I looked at her, black under the eyes, her hair thinning as it grew, her chest heaving for breath, my hope for her recovery died a little too.

This is a beautifully written and evocative description of grief.

Grief does not go away, but it does change, slowly. It turns from a hollow pit inside you to something you carry with you instead, a something, a shard of glass with its sharp end buried in the marrow of your bones. You can't push it out, but you do grow around it, like a tree engulfing a knife thrust into its bark.

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