Lex Croucher

22-year-old aspiring writer Edith 'Eddie' Miller and her best friend Rose have always done everything together-climbing trees, throwing grapes at boys, sneaking bottles of wine, practicing kissing . . .

But following their debutante ball Rose is suddenly talking about marriage, and Eddie is horrified.

When Eddie meets charming, renowned poet Nash Nicholson, he invites her to his crumbling Gothic estate in the countryside. The entourage of eccentric artists indulging in pure hedonism is exactly what Eddie needs in order to forget Rose and finish her novel.

But Eddie might discover the world of famous literary icons isn't all poems and pleasure . . .

Infamous

Rose’s monologue here just made me think about growing up and changing with my own friends, and how far I’ve come since my early 20s.

Rachael Bahr

‘Eddie,’ Rose said, exasperated. ‘I am not the same person I was when I was a child. I want different things. I am not pretending to enjoy people and parties and dancing - I actually do enjoy them. You always knew who you were who you were going to be. A writer. God, you dragged me and your family into bookshops enough times, to show exactly where your name would be on the shelf. That's how certain you were about your future. You could quite literally point to it. I didn't know what I wanted, it took me a long time to realise, and then I... Well.’ She made an abortive movement with her hands and then paused for a second before continuing, more in control of her tone. ‘There are many things I can't have, but I can build a place where I feel at home. Where people like ... people like Albert and I ... can feel truly welcome. This is me being realistic about my prospects. The sort of life I might hope to lead. And, on balance ... I think a life with a nice gentleman like Albert and a home that's a haven will be quite enough for me. I would love for you to be part of that life. But not if you're going to be dreadful to me every day because you're angry that I've grown up, and you want to be eight and covered in mud and holding hands im treehouse forever.’

Amrei 

'People don't understand,' he said,  face softening. 'Those of us who live to create, who throw ourselves upon the altar of art and bleed and bleed for it ... how could we ever really inhabit the same world as those who simply dress for the day and read the paper and never dream that they could be the god of something new?'

'None of us are true originals, Eddie. We piece an approximation of a person together from what we like and what we hate, and some- where in that muddle we find ourselves.'

Infamous quotes

Join the club