by Glen Duncan

A read with dark, sinister undertones. It follows the progress of Dominic from a teenager, getting into the usual scrapes, through to adulthood where he wrestles with his own personal demons; all the time with the fiendish Deborah Black casting a shadow over him. Not always the most comfortable of reads but totally compelling and thoroughly menacing.


I lie very still. I'm not thinking of anything in particular, just trying to exist, to live with the ever-expanding core of numbness and the frantic periphery of excitement. In the world I inhabit now - the world I've been inhabiting for more than a week - I feel, powerfully, the certainty of my parents' death. They will die, be dead, be finished, the stream of their love cut off. And I will still be here. The world and all its rubbish of television and chemicals will still be here. This certainty of my parents' death has done something to my skin, taken off a dull layer, left me in sensual nudity.


Deadkidsongs by Toby Litt

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