{"product_id":"the-girl-in-the-red-coat-isbn-9781612195612","title":"The Girl in the Red Coat","description":"\u003cb\u003e\"Immediately recalls the explosion of similarly titled books and movies, from Stieg Larsson’s \u003ci\u003eThe Girl With the Dragon Tattoo \u003c\/i\u003eand its sequels to \u003ci\u003eThe Girl on the Train\u003c\/i\u003e to \u003ci\u003eGone Girl\u003c\/i\u003e … \"—Michiko Kakutani, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Newly single mom Beth has one constant, gnawing worry: that her dreamy eight-year-old daughter, Carmel, who has a tendency to wander off, will one day go missing.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e And then one day, it happens: On a Saturday morning thick with fog, Beth takes Carmel to a local outdoor festival, they get separated in the crowd, and Carmel is gone.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Shattered, Beth sets herself on the grim and lonely mission of finding her daughter, keeping on relentlessly even as the authorities tell her that Carmel may be gone for good.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Carmel, meanwhile, is on a strange and harrowing journey of her own—to a totally unexpected place that requires her to live by her wits, while trying desperately to keep in her head, at all times, a vision of her mother…\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Alternating between Beth’s story and Carmel’s, and written in gripping prose that won’t let go, \u003ci\u003eThe Girl in the Red Coat\u003c\/i\u003e is an utterly immersive story that’s impossible to put down…and impossible to forget.\u003cb\u003eAn ELLE Lettres Readers' Prize Winner\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eAn Amazon Best Book of the Year for 2016\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eCosta Book Award for First Novel finalist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eDagger Award finalist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Kate Hamer’s gripping debut novel immediately recalls the explosion of similarly titled books and movies, from Stieg Larsson’s \u003ci\u003eThe Girl With the Dragon Tattoo \u003c\/i\u003eand its sequels to \u003ci\u003eThe Girl on the Train\u003c\/i\u003e to \u003ci\u003eGone Girl\u003c\/i\u003e … What kicks \u003ci\u003eThe Girl in the Red Coat\u003c\/i\u003e out of the loop of familiarity is Ms. Hamer’s keen understanding of her two central characters: Carmel and her devastated mother, Beth, who narrate alternating chapters … Both emerge as individuals depicted with sympathy but also with unsparing emotional precision.” \u003cb\u003e—Michiko Kakutani, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “This stunning debut … has the propulsion of a thriller.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Every sentence in Kate Hamer's debut is so perceptive that you're torn between wanting to linger on the thought and itching to learn what happens next …The taut plot alternates between Carmel's emotional struggle to survive and Beth’'s refusal to believe that her daughter is gone forever. Meanwhile, their complex yet unbreakable bond is rendered with honesty and love.” \u003cb\u003e—Oprah.com\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[A] spectacular debut … Telling the story in two remarkable voices, with Beth’s chapters unfurling in past tense and Carmel’s in present tense, the author weaves a page-turning narrative. The trajectories of the novel’s two leads—through despair, hope, and redemption—are believable and nuanced, resulting in a morally complex, haunting read.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Reading this novel is a test of how fast you can turn pages.” \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Hamer’s lush use of language easily conjures fairy-tale imagery, especially of dark forests and Little Red Riding Hood. Although a kidnapped child is the central plot point, this is not a mystery but a novel of deep inquiry and intense emotions. Hamer’s dark tale of the lost and found is nearly impossible to put down and will spark much discussion.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Poignantly details the loss and loneliness of a mother and daughter separated … Fast-paced ... Hamer beautifully renders pain, exactly capturing the evisceration of loss … Exquisite prose surrounding a mother and daughter torn apart.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Hamer’s book is a moving, voice-driven narrative. As much an examination of loss and anxiety as it is a gripping page-turner, it’ll appeal to anyone captivated by child narrators or analyses of the pains and joys of motherhood.” \u003cb\u003e—Huffington Post\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Riveting. Worth the hype.”\u003cb\u003e —Book Riot\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Keeps the reader turning pages at a frantic clip . . . What’s most powerful here is not whodunit, or even why, but how this mother and daughter bear their separation, and the stories they tell themselves to help endure it.” \u003cb\u003e—Celeste Ng, author of \u003ci\u003eEverything I Never Told You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Compulsively readable . . . Beautifully written and unpredictable . . . I had to stop myself racing to the end to find out what happened . . . Kate Hamer catches at the threads of what parents fear most—the abduction of a child—and weaves a disturbing and original story. There is menace in this book, lurking in the shadows on every page, but also innocence, love, and hope.” \u003cb\u003e—Rosamund Lupton, author of \u003ci\u003eSisters\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Gripping and sensitive—beautifully written, \u003ci\u003eThe Girl in the Red Coat\u003c\/i\u003e is a compulsive, aching story full of loss and redemption.” \u003cb\u003e—Lisa Ballantyne, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Guilty One\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eKATE HAMER\u003c\/b\u003e is a winner of the Rhys Davies Short Story Prize. Her first novel, \u003ci\u003eGirl in the Red Coat\u003c\/i\u003e was shortlisted for the Costa Book Award for First Novel and was a finalist for The Dagger Award. Her second novel, \u003ci\u003eThe Doll Funeral\u003c\/i\u003e was described by the \u003ci\u003eGuardian\u003c\/i\u003e as evoking both Jeanette Winterson and Ian McEwan. She lives in Cardiff, Wales with her husband and two children. She can be found online at katehamer.co.ukI DREAM ABOUT CARMEL OFTEN. In my dreams she's always walking backwards.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The day she was born there was snow on the ground. A silvery light arced through the window\u003cbr\u003e as I held her in my arms.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e As she grew up I nicknamed her ‘my little hedge child.' I couldn't imagine her living\u003cbr\u003e anywhere but the countryside. Her thick curly hair stood out like a spray of breaking glass, or a\u003cbr\u003e dandelion head.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards,' I'd say to her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e And she would smile. Her eyes would close and flutter. The pale purple-veined lids like butterflies\u003cbr\u003e sealing each eye.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e ‘I can imagine that,' she'd say finally, licking her lips.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I'm looking out of the window and I can almost see her - in those tights that made cherry licorice\u003cbr\u003e of her legs - walking up the lane to school. The missing her feels like my throat has been removed.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Tonight I’ll dream of her again, I can feel it. I can feel her in the twilight, sitting up on the\u003cbr\u003e skeined branches of the beech tree and calling out. But at night in my sleep she'll be walking\u003cbr\u003e backwards toward the house - or is it away? – so she never gets closer.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Her clothes were often an untidy riot. The crotch of her winter tights bowed down between\u003cbr\u003e her knees so she'd walk like a penguin. Her school collar would stick up on one side and be\u003cbr\u003e buried in her jumper on the other. But her mind was a different matter - she knew what people\u003cbr\u003e were feeling. When Sally's husband left her, Sally sat in my kitchen drinking tequila as I tried to\u003cbr\u003e console her. Salt and lime and liquor for a husband. Carmel came past and made her fingers\u003cbr\u003e into little sticks that she stuck into Sally's thick brown hair and massaged her scalp. Sally\u003cbr\u003e moaned and dropped her head backwards.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e ‘Oh my God, Carmel, where did you learn to do that?'\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'Hush, nowhere,' she whispered, kneading away.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That was just before she disappeared into the fog.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Christmas 1999. The children's cheeks blotched pink with cold and excitement as they hurried\u003cbr\u003e through the school gates. To me, they all looked like little trolls compared to Carmel. I wondered\u003cbr\u003e then if every parent had such thoughts. We had to walk home through the country lanes and\u003cbr\u003e already it was nearly dark.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It was cold as we started off and snow edged the road. It glowed in the twilight and marked\u003cbr\u003e our way. I realised I was balling my hands in tight fists inside my pockets with worries about\u003cbr\u003e Christmas and no money. As I drew my hands out into the cold air and uncurled them Carmel fell\u003cbr\u003e back and I could hear her grumbling behind me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e ‘Do hurry up,' I said, anxious to get home out of the freezing night.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e ‘You realise. Mum, that I won't always be with you,' she said, her voice small and breathy in the\u003cbr\u003e fading light.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Maybe my heart should have frozen then. Maybe I should have turned and gathered her up\u003cbr\u003e and taken her home. Kept her shut away in a fortress or a tower. Locked with a golden key\u003cbr\u003e that I would swallow, so my stomach would have to be cut open before she could be found. But of\u003cbr\u003e course I thought it meant nothing, nothing at all.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'Well, you're with me for now.'\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I turned. She seemed far behind me. The shape of her head was the same as the tussocky tops of\u003cbr\u003e the hedges that closed in on either side.\u003cbr\u003e 'Carmel?'\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e A long plume of delicate ice breath brushed past my coat sleeve.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'I'm here.'\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sometimes I wonder if when I'm dead I'm destined to be looking still. Turned into an owl\u003cbr\u003e and flying over the fields at night, swooping over crouching hedges and dark lanes. The smoke\u003cbr\u003e from chimneys billowing and swaying from the movement of my wings as I pass through. Or will\u003cbr\u003e I sit with her, high up in the beech tree, playing games? Spying on the people who live in our\u003cbr\u003e house and watching their comings and goings. Maybe we'll call out to them and make them\u003cbr\u003e jump.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e We were single mothers, almost to a man – as one of the group once joked. We clustered\u003cbr\u003e together in solidarity of our status. I think now maybe it was not good for Carmel, this band of\u003cbr\u003e women with bitter fire glinting from their eyes and rings. Many evenings we'd be around the\u003cbr\u003e kitchen table and it would be \u003ci\u003ethen he, then he, then he\u003c\/i\u003e. We were all hurt in some way, bruised\u003cbr\u003e inside. Except for Alice who had red bruises. After Carmel had gone - oh, a few months or so -\u003cbr\u003e Alice came to the house.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'I had to speak to you,' she said. 'I need to tell you something.' Still I imagined anything could be a clue to the puzzle.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'What is it? What is it?' I asked, frantically clutching at the neck of my dressing gown. What\u003cbr\u003e she told me disappointed me so much I turned my face away and looked at the empty shell of\u003cbr\u003e the egg I'd eaten yesterday on the kitchen drainer. But when she started to tell me my\u003cbr\u003e daughter had a channel to God and could be now at His right hand - how I hated her then. Her\u003cbr\u003e false clues and her finding of Jesus, those wrists in identical braided bracelets turning as she\u003cbr\u003e spoke. I could stay silent no longer.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 'Stop it!' I yelled. 'Get out of here. I thought you had something real to tell me. Get out of this\u003cbr\u003e house and leave me alone, you stupid cow. You crazy stupid cow. Take your God with you and\u003cbr\u003e don't ever come back.'\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sometimes, just before I fall asleep, I imagine crawling inside the shell of Carmel's skull and\u003cbr\u003e finding her memories there. Peering through her eye sockets and watching the film of her life\u003cbr\u003e unfold through her eyes. Look, look: there's me and her father, when we were together. Carmel's\u003cbr\u003e still small so to her we seem like giants, growing up into the sky. I lean down to pick her up and\u003cbr\u003e empty nursery rhymes into her ear.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e And there's that day out to the circus.\u003cbr\u003e We have a picnic by the big top before we go in. I spread out the blanket on the grass, so I\u003cbr\u003e don't notice Carmel turn her head and see the clown peering from between the tent flaps. His face has thick white make-up with a big red mouth shape drawn on. She puzzles why his head is so high up because his stilts are hidden by the striped tent flap. He looks briefly up at the sky to check the weather, then his red-and-white face disappears back inside.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e What else? Starting school, me breaking up with Paul and throwing his clothes out of the\u003cbr\u003e bedroom window. She must have seen them from where she was in the kitchen - his shirts and trousers sailing down. Other things, how many memories even in a short life: seeing the sea, a day paddling in the river, Christmas, a full moon, snow.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Always I stop at her eighth birthday and can go no farther. Her eighth birthday, when we went to\u003cbr\u003e the maze.","brand":"Melville House","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300096430309,"sku":"NP9781612195612","price":16.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781612195612.jpg?v=1742918659","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-girl-in-the-red-coat-isbn-9781612195612","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}