Jan Carson
Author of The Raptures
About the Author
Image credit: photo by Jonathan Ryder
Works by Jan Carson
Associated Works
The Glass Shore: Short Stories by Women Writers from the North of Ireland (2016) — Contributor — 23 copies, 1 review
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1980
- Gender
- female
- Occupations
- writer
- Organizations
- Royal Society of Literature
- Agent
- Wolf Lit
- Nationality
- Northern Ireland
UK - Birthplace
- Ballymena, County Antrim, Northern Ireland, UK
- Places of residence
- Belfast, County Antrim, Northern Ireland, UK
- Map Location
- Northern Ireland, UK
Members
Reviews
Jan Carson! What a brilliant author and what a stunning creation is her new novel Few and Far Between. For the past few days I have been totally absorbed by this counterfactual story of a utopia that wasn't. Sorting out what's true and what's not ceases to be of any importance as the story takes hold.
There really is a very large freshwater lake called Lough Neagh in Northern Ireland and there really are small islands, and sadly, it really is beset by algal blooms. But Carson's counterfactual show more plays with a 1970s politician's proposal to drain it and build developments on the archipelago that emerged. A BBC article says that this proposal is true too.) In the novel these islands were touted as a utopia for refugees from The Troubles, i.e. the 30-year Civil War that made life hell in Northern Ireland. On the islands of the 'Ark', there was no religion, and people were free to marry and socialise and work across the sectarian divide. Now however, with EU funding disappearing in the wake of Brexit and a (dubious) plan to flush away a toxic algal bloom by flooding the lake, the remnant population will have to relocate to the mainland.
The narration consists of deadpan comic delivery that reveals the pathetic lives of those still living on 'the Ark'. There is also text that purports to be an anthropology of the island authored by a young academic called Alex Alexander. This text looks authoritative (i.e. true, real) because it has footnotes, but the playful style (sometimes mocking, sometimes jocular) alerts the reader to be wary. Alex is ambitious: hoping to make a name as a celebrity anthropologist, following on from the late RJ Connolly, who was the face of the utopia on The Ark. He was father to the two remaining residents on Big Flat, Marion and Robert-John, both in late middle-age and both marooned on the Ark because they lack the interpersonal skills and habits to get by on the mainland.
It's a dark story, but it's laced with wit and humour which leavens the poignant history of these siblings. It's not a pity party.
This is how the book begins:
Robert-John doesn't like strangers, but he's willing to tolerate the man who sent them a proposal to write about the Ark if it can stave off the Flood. Marion is hoping that the man will document a utopia with heritage value.
Robert-John, taking charge (because he has taken on more of his toxic father's values than he realises), gets his comeuppance when 'Alex' turns out to be an attractive young woman. But though their reasons are different, the siblings agree about deflecting Alex's attention from the islands known collectively as The Far Side...
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2026/05/28/few-and-far-between-2025-by-jan-carson/ show less
There really is a very large freshwater lake called Lough Neagh in Northern Ireland and there really are small islands, and sadly, it really is beset by algal blooms. But Carson's counterfactual show more plays with a 1970s politician's proposal to drain it and build developments on the archipelago that emerged. A BBC article says that this proposal is true too.) In the novel these islands were touted as a utopia for refugees from The Troubles, i.e. the 30-year Civil War that made life hell in Northern Ireland. On the islands of the 'Ark', there was no religion, and people were free to marry and socialise and work across the sectarian divide. Now however, with EU funding disappearing in the wake of Brexit and a (dubious) plan to flush away a toxic algal bloom by flooding the lake, the remnant population will have to relocate to the mainland.
The narration consists of deadpan comic delivery that reveals the pathetic lives of those still living on 'the Ark'. There is also text that purports to be an anthropology of the island authored by a young academic called Alex Alexander. This text looks authoritative (i.e. true, real) because it has footnotes, but the playful style (sometimes mocking, sometimes jocular) alerts the reader to be wary. Alex is ambitious: hoping to make a name as a celebrity anthropologist, following on from the late RJ Connolly, who was the face of the utopia on The Ark. He was father to the two remaining residents on Big Flat, Marion and Robert-John, both in late middle-age and both marooned on the Ark because they lack the interpersonal skills and habits to get by on the mainland.
It's a dark story, but it's laced with wit and humour which leavens the poignant history of these siblings. It's not a pity party.
This is how the book begins:
The man is coming.Everything depends on him. If he writes the Ark in glowing terms, it might yet survive the Flood.
Marion is way ahead of herself. She has the man's book written and published. Popular opinion set aside. The Ark some kind of heritage site; its existence enshrined in law. She and Robert-John granted leave to remain. Indefinitely ever after. (Happily is too big of an ask.)
Marion's not an optimist, but she's grown accustomed to putting a degree of spin on whatever life pitches at her.
Robert-John's a pessimist. He's been pissing on his own parade since '63 or thereabouts. '(p.1)
Robert-John doesn't like strangers, but he's willing to tolerate the man who sent them a proposal to write about the Ark if it can stave off the Flood. Marion is hoping that the man will document a utopia with heritage value.
'If the man writes that we had a utopia, folk will wish that they had grown up here. They won't want to see it washed away.
They both fall silent, considering what should be shared with the man and what should be kept to themselves.
The man is coming, day after tomorrow.
There is much to be done before he arrives. Much to be hidden and tucked away. (p.3)
Robert-John, taking charge (because he has taken on more of his toxic father's values than he realises), gets his comeuppance when 'Alex' turns out to be an attractive young woman. But though their reasons are different, the siblings agree about deflecting Alex's attention from the islands known collectively as The Far Side...
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2026/05/28/few-and-far-between-2025-by-jan-carson/ show less
The story is set in the fictitious Protestant village of Ballylack one summer in the early nineties. Shortly after being told by a visiting speaker that they are "Northern Ireland's future", the eleven-year-olds in the top class of the local primary school all start falling sick with a mysterious and deadly illness. Hannah, who belongs to a particularly hardline charismatic pentecostalist family, seems to be the only child who isn't affected, and she disconcertingly finds herself nominated show more as contact-person to the world of the living by her dead classmates, who have somehow turned into rootless, destructive teenage ghosts.
Carson takes a hard look at the kind of small community she grew up in, wittily — and with a certain amount of affection — pinning down its absurdities and small-minded local concerns. It's very lively, clever writing, with a lot of close observation, and satisfyingly complicated levels of allegory and symbolism going on in the background of what is essentially a kind of murder-mystery plot.
But an utterly unsentimental magic-realist novel about the deaths of young children is never going to be an easy read. If The fire starters was challenging, this is the next level up. Carson makes it clear that the quaint local peculiarities of Northern Ireland life can't be separated from the very real harm that they do. show less
Carson takes a hard look at the kind of small community she grew up in, wittily — and with a certain amount of affection — pinning down its absurdities and small-minded local concerns. It's very lively, clever writing, with a lot of close observation, and satisfyingly complicated levels of allegory and symbolism going on in the background of what is essentially a kind of murder-mystery plot.
But an utterly unsentimental magic-realist novel about the deaths of young children is never going to be an easy read. If The fire starters was challenging, this is the next level up. Carson makes it clear that the quaint local peculiarities of Northern Ireland life can't be separated from the very real harm that they do. show less
‘’The river didn’t sleep. It could not hold itself still nor stop without assistance. The river ran one way. One way only. From medium-sized mountain to much bigger sea. This was the way with rivers. East went the river, directly east slicking through three villages and a pine-stenched forest, a bridge, a second bridge and the farmland belonging to two brothers who did not speak.’’
My first encounter with Jan Carson was through the story “Settling,” included in The Glass Shore. show more It was one of the jewels in the crown of that remarkable anthology, and she came to me highly recommended by a brilliant literary mind from Northern Ireland. Being an ardent lover of short stories, I couldn’t not pick up her most recent collection.
Let me tell you, people. Seldom have I come across such writing.
Without further ado, these are the stories — brilliant, haunting, and deeply human. Tales that hover between the real and the surreal, between loss and hope, between the open wound of the Troubles and the feverish need for healing.
‘’If I’m going to die an undignified death,’ I say, ‘I’d prefer not to have an audience.’
A Certain Degree of Ownership: A woman, weary of the supposed joys of married life, finds solace in the sea and the deserted beach she has come to think of as her own. One day, she witnesses a horrific accident. So much dark brilliance lies within this story… Why do we avoid responsibility? Why do we pretend we don’t care?
Marital life — the utter disillusionment, people.
‘’What’s your name? Where do you come from? What’s it like being dead? Have you been to heaven? Was it nice up there? Could you have a wee look about for my mummy? She got killed in a bomb, a few years back.’’
Grand So: A Protestant businessman selling luxury jams tries to keep his business afloat during the Troubles in County Antrim. He sends his wife driving up and down the land with samples — but their new motor has an unexpected passenger: the Backseat Man.
Beneath the black — and brilliant — humour, there is a deep sadness, laced with references to the conflict, the blood toll, the hunger strikes, the loss.
‘’This place is hungrier than other places. It sinks the teeth in early on. It clings. It cleaves. It will never let go of its own.’’
Fair Play: An Englishman married to a Northern Irish woman spends a day alone with their young sons. In the heat of the Covid pandemic, he reveals every inch of his prejudiced, controlling, good-for-nothing nature.
Another piece of marital bliss and domestic happiness. And a story that gives you goosebumps…
‘’It’s not for us to question why.’’
Tinged: A young girl is trying to cope with her mother’s death as religious conflicts create ache once again. An extremely moving story about loss and despair and the unanswered ‘why’.
‘’There’s something not quite right about this woman. This was half the pull of her.’’
Quickly, While They Still Have Horses: Can we ever move past cultural differences when we are already at odds with our own homeland? A young man’s Mediterranean girlfriend refuses to visit Belfast and meet his parents. Her world — sensual, fiery, free-thinking — clashes with his rooted, tradition-bound one. He tries to bridge the gap, often foolishly… until the horses of Belfast appear, and everything shifts.
A beautiful, lyrical story about identity, belonging, and the fragile absurdity of love across cultures. We Mediterranean girls are a bit mad, and gloriously so. But let’s face it — international relationships are the thing, and we must own it.
Victor Soda: I think we all remember that summer when we were 14-15 years old and we realised that childhood had waved goodbye and adulthood was about to take over our bodies and our hearts. This is the story of a girl who was always expected to do the ‘right’ thing. The story of first love and sexual awakening. The woes of living in a tight community. The ways in which society always ruins everything. The way we are taught to feel ashamed of our bodies and our desires. The hypocrisy. The way sex is reduced to a mechanical job by holier-than-thou heathens.
This story made me extremely uncomfortable but its power is magnetic and its brilliance evident in every paragraph.
Pillars: What if we could buy a pillar that would protect us, guide us and prevent us from making every bad decision available? Life would be easier, right? For the woman in the story, who is trying to cope with a divorce, life would be unbearable. And yet, somewhere buried deep inside us, there is a small seed of strength and resilience.
‘’Is he collecting the ocean piece by piece or trying to erase it altogether?’’
Jellyfish: In a story that broke my heart, a couple is trying to cope with their son’s suicide, a result of depression. The father’s anger is aimed towards the jellyfish in the ocean. Seldom have I seen such a powerful, poetic depiction of loss and sorrow, and the worst thing that a human being can experience.
Mostly People Just Throw Bricks: An English journalist is sent to Belfast to cover the story of a riot next to the peace wall and a burning doll, and stumbles upon a still divided community and wounds that fester and fester. The story paints a bleak picture, a harsh reality where the Troubles still torment the residents.
Bat McElhatton Learns to Drive: A young man who has been living with serious sight problems wants to learn how to drive after his miraculous healing. An uplifting, albeit strange story.
Caravan: A caravan has provided days and days of joy to two sisters every summer. Until Caroline decides she is a grown-up at 10 years old. Her Dad asks her to turn the abandoned caravan into a home. But what happens when a parent doesn’t keep a promise? A story full of nostalgia about care-free summers and the summer we realised we weren’t children anymore.
‘’Pragmatism might well have been preached from Protestant pulpits, but in the streets and fussy wee living rooms of East Belfast, folks still believed in things unseen. There wasn’t much else to hold on to around here.’’
Troubling the Water: Can you give credit to urban legends and folk tales within the heart of East Belfast? Apparently, the elderly ladies of the story believe you can. And now, there is a rumour about the Templemore Baths and a foreign girl with healing abilities in a contemporary twist of the Pool of Bethesda. No spoilers, obviously, but the ending is intense…
In the Car with the Rain Coming Down: What is worse than marriage? When you are the wife, the devil finds his face in the kister of your husband’s mother. Dear lord, the beauty and joy of being married with the need for offspring and the constant presence of the in-laws…And a trip with everyone involved.
Thank you, I’d rather chew glass, swallow salt and drink gasoline.
Married people must be so happy…
‘’She was after milk for the tea. She was not expecting a bloody hand. And the hand was nothing if not bloody. Red and dripping. Raw as meat. All five fingers distinctly arranged as if offering her a wild high five. Blood pooled beneath the palm and around the wrist. This blood was a slightly darker shade than the blood which was smeared across its fingers and beneath its nails. The whole foul package was bound up in a layer of tight clingfilm. Chilled flesh pressed against see-through plastic. Swaddled. Squidged. Barely contained.’’
One Hander: Anyone familiar with the history of Northern Ireland knows about the Red Hand of Ulster, and this is a discussion for more knowledgeable people than yours truly. This is a simply outstanding story, full of symbolism, sadness and absurdity as a young woman in love with a Catholic Polish man wants to walk away from every prejudice preached by her Protestant family. I also loved the way the myths that gave birth to the Irish soul and spirit are expressed through the thoughts of the protagonist.
Coasters: A group of pensioners has decided on a day - out in a shopping centre outside Belfast. Recently retired Donald is the only one who has the clarity to realise that their wives have practically turned them into eunuchs, depriving them of their opinions, demeaning their presence.
Family Circle: Two brothers, who don’t speak to each other, are separated by a river. However, they have to deal with a baby found inside a biscuit tin.
An astonishing story with layers and a poignant message communicated through bittersweet irony.
I am in unashamed awe of Carson’s writing! There is a multitude of themes masterfully woven within each story. The need to try everything to be healed is prominent in the collection, as is the reliance on faith as a refuge. I have to say that Carson’s views on marriage are evident throughout the collection. I wish we could have a long conversation about marital relationships. Even if you aren’t a staunch hater of marriage, these stories will definitely have you thinking.
Unless you are a fool for which there is no remedy.
Back to my freedom, thank you very much!
‘’This be your side,’ the river said, ‘and this be yours, and don’t be having any fool notions of a bridge.’’
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/ show less
My first encounter with Jan Carson was through the story “Settling,” included in The Glass Shore. show more It was one of the jewels in the crown of that remarkable anthology, and she came to me highly recommended by a brilliant literary mind from Northern Ireland. Being an ardent lover of short stories, I couldn’t not pick up her most recent collection.
Let me tell you, people. Seldom have I come across such writing.
Without further ado, these are the stories — brilliant, haunting, and deeply human. Tales that hover between the real and the surreal, between loss and hope, between the open wound of the Troubles and the feverish need for healing.
‘’If I’m going to die an undignified death,’ I say, ‘I’d prefer not to have an audience.’
A Certain Degree of Ownership: A woman, weary of the supposed joys of married life, finds solace in the sea and the deserted beach she has come to think of as her own. One day, she witnesses a horrific accident. So much dark brilliance lies within this story… Why do we avoid responsibility? Why do we pretend we don’t care?
Marital life — the utter disillusionment, people.
‘’What’s your name? Where do you come from? What’s it like being dead? Have you been to heaven? Was it nice up there? Could you have a wee look about for my mummy? She got killed in a bomb, a few years back.’’
Grand So: A Protestant businessman selling luxury jams tries to keep his business afloat during the Troubles in County Antrim. He sends his wife driving up and down the land with samples — but their new motor has an unexpected passenger: the Backseat Man.
Beneath the black — and brilliant — humour, there is a deep sadness, laced with references to the conflict, the blood toll, the hunger strikes, the loss.
‘’This place is hungrier than other places. It sinks the teeth in early on. It clings. It cleaves. It will never let go of its own.’’
Fair Play: An Englishman married to a Northern Irish woman spends a day alone with their young sons. In the heat of the Covid pandemic, he reveals every inch of his prejudiced, controlling, good-for-nothing nature.
Another piece of marital bliss and domestic happiness. And a story that gives you goosebumps…
‘’It’s not for us to question why.’’
Tinged: A young girl is trying to cope with her mother’s death as religious conflicts create ache once again. An extremely moving story about loss and despair and the unanswered ‘why’.
‘’There’s something not quite right about this woman. This was half the pull of her.’’
Quickly, While They Still Have Horses: Can we ever move past cultural differences when we are already at odds with our own homeland? A young man’s Mediterranean girlfriend refuses to visit Belfast and meet his parents. Her world — sensual, fiery, free-thinking — clashes with his rooted, tradition-bound one. He tries to bridge the gap, often foolishly… until the horses of Belfast appear, and everything shifts.
A beautiful, lyrical story about identity, belonging, and the fragile absurdity of love across cultures. We Mediterranean girls are a bit mad, and gloriously so. But let’s face it — international relationships are the thing, and we must own it.
Victor Soda: I think we all remember that summer when we were 14-15 years old and we realised that childhood had waved goodbye and adulthood was about to take over our bodies and our hearts. This is the story of a girl who was always expected to do the ‘right’ thing. The story of first love and sexual awakening. The woes of living in a tight community. The ways in which society always ruins everything. The way we are taught to feel ashamed of our bodies and our desires. The hypocrisy. The way sex is reduced to a mechanical job by holier-than-thou heathens.
This story made me extremely uncomfortable but its power is magnetic and its brilliance evident in every paragraph.
Pillars: What if we could buy a pillar that would protect us, guide us and prevent us from making every bad decision available? Life would be easier, right? For the woman in the story, who is trying to cope with a divorce, life would be unbearable. And yet, somewhere buried deep inside us, there is a small seed of strength and resilience.
‘’Is he collecting the ocean piece by piece or trying to erase it altogether?’’
Jellyfish: In a story that broke my heart, a couple is trying to cope with their son’s suicide, a result of depression. The father’s anger is aimed towards the jellyfish in the ocean. Seldom have I seen such a powerful, poetic depiction of loss and sorrow, and the worst thing that a human being can experience.
Mostly People Just Throw Bricks: An English journalist is sent to Belfast to cover the story of a riot next to the peace wall and a burning doll, and stumbles upon a still divided community and wounds that fester and fester. The story paints a bleak picture, a harsh reality where the Troubles still torment the residents.
Bat McElhatton Learns to Drive: A young man who has been living with serious sight problems wants to learn how to drive after his miraculous healing. An uplifting, albeit strange story.
Caravan: A caravan has provided days and days of joy to two sisters every summer. Until Caroline decides she is a grown-up at 10 years old. Her Dad asks her to turn the abandoned caravan into a home. But what happens when a parent doesn’t keep a promise? A story full of nostalgia about care-free summers and the summer we realised we weren’t children anymore.
‘’Pragmatism might well have been preached from Protestant pulpits, but in the streets and fussy wee living rooms of East Belfast, folks still believed in things unseen. There wasn’t much else to hold on to around here.’’
Troubling the Water: Can you give credit to urban legends and folk tales within the heart of East Belfast? Apparently, the elderly ladies of the story believe you can. And now, there is a rumour about the Templemore Baths and a foreign girl with healing abilities in a contemporary twist of the Pool of Bethesda. No spoilers, obviously, but the ending is intense…
In the Car with the Rain Coming Down: What is worse than marriage? When you are the wife, the devil finds his face in the kister of your husband’s mother. Dear lord, the beauty and joy of being married with the need for offspring and the constant presence of the in-laws…And a trip with everyone involved.
Thank you, I’d rather chew glass, swallow salt and drink gasoline.
Married people must be so happy…
‘’She was after milk for the tea. She was not expecting a bloody hand. And the hand was nothing if not bloody. Red and dripping. Raw as meat. All five fingers distinctly arranged as if offering her a wild high five. Blood pooled beneath the palm and around the wrist. This blood was a slightly darker shade than the blood which was smeared across its fingers and beneath its nails. The whole foul package was bound up in a layer of tight clingfilm. Chilled flesh pressed against see-through plastic. Swaddled. Squidged. Barely contained.’’
One Hander: Anyone familiar with the history of Northern Ireland knows about the Red Hand of Ulster, and this is a discussion for more knowledgeable people than yours truly. This is a simply outstanding story, full of symbolism, sadness and absurdity as a young woman in love with a Catholic Polish man wants to walk away from every prejudice preached by her Protestant family. I also loved the way the myths that gave birth to the Irish soul and spirit are expressed through the thoughts of the protagonist.
Coasters: A group of pensioners has decided on a day - out in a shopping centre outside Belfast. Recently retired Donald is the only one who has the clarity to realise that their wives have practically turned them into eunuchs, depriving them of their opinions, demeaning their presence.
Family Circle: Two brothers, who don’t speak to each other, are separated by a river. However, they have to deal with a baby found inside a biscuit tin.
An astonishing story with layers and a poignant message communicated through bittersweet irony.
I am in unashamed awe of Carson’s writing! There is a multitude of themes masterfully woven within each story. The need to try everything to be healed is prominent in the collection, as is the reliance on faith as a refuge. I have to say that Carson’s views on marriage are evident throughout the collection. I wish we could have a long conversation about marital relationships. Even if you aren’t a staunch hater of marriage, these stories will definitely have you thinking.
Unless you are a fool for which there is no remedy.
Back to my freedom, thank you very much!
‘’This be your side,’ the river said, ‘and this be yours, and don’t be having any fool notions of a bridge.’’
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/ show less
The summer "marching season", when East Belfast protestants commemorate the Battle of the Boyne with processions and bonfires, is a long-standing flashpoint for riots and civil disorder. In this particular year, it threatens to get even more out of control than usual, with a sinister masked figure posting videos on social media encouraging young people to start fires in defence of their "civil rights". Naturally, there are plenty who do so without stopping to think which rights they might be show more defending and how starting fires could help. This is Belfast, after all, and it's the middle of summer. The tourist board are hoping visitors will turn up to enjoy the city and its unexpected attractions, but it seems to be a lost cause when there are negative stories on the BBC News every night...
Against this background of the barely suppressed legacy of generations of community violence, we follow the story of two fathers frightened — for quite different reasons — of what they may have brought into the world with their children. One is a "normal enough" story of the heritage of violence; the other takes us off into a magic realist dimension. Jonathan has been picked, for unknown reasons, by a Siren to become the father of her child. Now he's convinced himself that baby Sophie will be genetically programmed to lure people to their doom the moment she starts speaking. In his plight, he discovers that Belfast is actually full of the concerned parents of children with unexpected powers, but he still has a hard time sharing his problem. He's a respectable doctor, he can't go around telling people he believes in supernatural beings.
This is obviously in part a fable about the powerful, unpredictable waves of love and fear for their children that parents experience, and in part a way to lead us into the strangeness of the mindset that goes with growing up in Northern Ireland and the way that engages — in good and bad ways — with the power of storytelling. Carson wants us to see the cult of reason and the protestant distrust of getting involved with symbolism and myth as elements that make it harder for people to share what they really feel about what's wrong with their lives. Carson is bending the edges of realism to achieve something a little bit like what Anna Burns did in Milkman by twisting some of the basic rules of language. I'm not sure if it works completely, but this is still a very interesting book, if a slightly disturbing one. show less
Against this background of the barely suppressed legacy of generations of community violence, we follow the story of two fathers frightened — for quite different reasons — of what they may have brought into the world with their children. One is a "normal enough" story of the heritage of violence; the other takes us off into a magic realist dimension. Jonathan has been picked, for unknown reasons, by a Siren to become the father of her child. Now he's convinced himself that baby Sophie will be genetically programmed to lure people to their doom the moment she starts speaking. In his plight, he discovers that Belfast is actually full of the concerned parents of children with unexpected powers, but he still has a hard time sharing his problem. He's a respectable doctor, he can't go around telling people he believes in supernatural beings.
This is obviously in part a fable about the powerful, unpredictable waves of love and fear for their children that parents experience, and in part a way to lead us into the strangeness of the mindset that goes with growing up in Northern Ireland and the way that engages — in good and bad ways — with the power of storytelling. Carson wants us to see the cult of reason and the protestant distrust of getting involved with symbolism and myth as elements that make it harder for people to share what they really feel about what's wrong with their lives. Carson is bending the edges of realism to achieve something a little bit like what Anna Burns did in Milkman by twisting some of the basic rules of language. I'm not sure if it works completely, but this is still a very interesting book, if a slightly disturbing one. show less
Lists
Awards
You May Also Like
Associated Authors
Statistics
- Works
- 10
- Also by
- 3
- Members
- 276
- Popularity
- #84,077
- Rating
- 4.0
- Reviews
- 14
- ISBNs
- 39
- Languages
- 4
