Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Meeting Cute: Debut Author Edwin Hill


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  We met cute. We totally did. we were seated next to each other at the Malice Domestic banquet, always a treat, and since of course we had a lot in common--we were both at Malice, that's plenty--we started up a conversation.  
Are you writing? I asked. (Always a good one.) 
Yes, he said, in fact, my debut novel, Little Comfort, comes out August 28.
Oh! I said. What a coincidence! Mine, too. That's when Trust Me comes out.
I know, he said.
(To which, silly me, I thought--how wonderful of this cool guy! He's such a fan of mine that he knows my pub date! Isn't that great? Aw. I instantly adored him, of course. and continued the conversation.)
Oh, such a coincidence! I said. We can be pub date buddies. 
Yes, he said, but I'm not doing my launch until the 29th.
(To which, silly me, I thought--well, there's gotta be some reason for that. Wonder what it is?)
Oh, I went on, so brightly, interesting! Why?
Because that's when YOURS is, he said.
What? (This was not computing. Lots of people have the same pub date, obvs.)
Yes, he said. Brookline Booksmith scheduled YOU for that day, so I had to postpone. 
What? (I was repeating myself, I know.) You're from Boston?
Yup, he said.
So, it went on like that, and now we are doing an event together later in the month, and all fabulous.
But today is all Edwin Hill here at Jungle Red, and you are going to love him, too. 
And even more so--as he tells us about:


The Power of the Librarian


   by Edwin Hill
Mysteries, no matter the genre, are about curious people asking questions, and to me, librarians are among the most curious people I know – solving big and small mysteries for their patrons every day. My novel, Little Comfort, is about a librarian named Hester Thursby who finds serial killers, which has given me the opportunity to talk with librarians all over as I’ve researched, and to remember one librarian in particular who played an important role in my life and many others.

My parents grew up in Whitman, a small town on the South Shore of Massachusetts. Before it was a town of its own, Whitman was a neighborhood in the larger town of Abington, called Little Comfort. I always appreciated the irony in that name and thought it would make a great novel title, so here we are!

My grandmother, Phyllis Hill, was the town librarian in Whitman from the forties through the early sixties. She ran all sorts of programs for children and adults that brought the community together. In addition to working as a librarian, she was a poet, publishing a collection called Poems for the Future, and conducted psychic readings and automatic writing. She retired in the early sixties and passed away in the early nineties, and at her funeral, it was amazing to hear people talk about how she’d inspired and helped them through her work at the library. 




Even twenty-five years after my grandmother’s death (she’d be 124 this year), I’m still amazed by that reach. The staff at the Whitman Library helped me find the photos for this piece, and many of them remembered meeting her. 


Recently, because of the publicity for Little Comfort, a man named Andrew Michael Rossi reached out to me through Twitter. I’d never met Andrew, thought he’d grown up in Whitman when my grandmother was still the librarian, and he wrote about how important she had been to him - how she had listened to him and seen him. And then he told me a story that I’ll cherish forever. 



“Your grandmother lived on Washington Street, not far from where I grew up. She had written a book which I had read. I called her and she agreed to meet me. I was twelve years old. I decided I would do a watercolor of a seascape as a thank you. When I got to her house, she asked to see the picture I did for her. She held it up to a picture on her hallway wall. It was almost exactly the same. I kid you not! We talked about the paranormal. She showed me some of her automatic writings from Elizabeth Barrett Browning and then told me a young boy was present around me and he told her to tell me he was watching over me. My older brother Wayne was killed in a freak accident when a piano fell on him ten years earlier. All in all its an experience I will never forget. I just loved your grandmother to bits!”

Phyllis Hill may not have been your stereotypical librarian, but then, neither is Hester Thursby. I adored my grandmother in all her unique, loving ways, just as I love Hester Thursby.

HANK: Right? Of course he had me at the librarian who finds serial killers because she knows about research. BRILLIANT!  And how about that fabulous name, Hester Thursby?  

Two things today: Reds and readers, tell us one thing about your grandmother!
And Ed, we want to hear more about his book!





Edwin Hill grew up in Duxbury, Massachusetts, and where he spent most of his childhood obsessing over Enid Blyton’s “The Famous Five,” Agatha Christie novels, and somehow finding a way into C.S. Lewis’s wardrobe. After attending Wesleyan University, he headed west to San Francisco for the original dotcom boom. Later, he returned to Boston, earned an MFA from Emerson College, and switched gears to work in educational publishing, where he currently serves as the vice president and editorial director for Bedford/St. Martin’s, a division of Macmillan. He lives in Roslindale, Massachusetts with his partner Michael and his favorite reviewer, their yellow lab Edith Ann, who likes his first drafts enough to eat them.






LITTLE COMFORT


In a brilliantly twisted debut set among Boston’s elite, Edwin Hill introduces unforgettable sleuth Hester Thursby—and a missing persons case that uncovers a trail of vicious murder . . .

Harvard librarian Hester Thursby knows that even in the digital age, people still need help finding things. Using her research skills, Hester runs a side business tracking down the lost. Usually, she’s hired to find long-ago prom dates or to reunite adopted children and birth parents. Her new case is finding the handsome and charismatic Sam Blaine.

Sam has no desire to be found. As a teenager, he fled his small New Hampshire town with his friend, Gabe, after a haunting incident. For a dozen years, Sam and Gabe have traveled the country, reinventing themselves as they move from one mark to another. Sam has learned how trusting wealthy people can be—especially the lonely ones—as he expertly manipulates his way into their lives and homes. In Wendy Richards, the beautiful, fabulously rich daughter of one of Boston’s most influential families, he’s found the perfect way to infiltrate the milieu in which he knows he belongs—a world of Brooks Brothers suits, Nantucket summers, and effortless glamour.

As Hester’s investigation closes in on their brutal truth, the bond between Sam and Gabe is tested and Hester unknowingly jeopardizes her own safety. While Gabe has pinned all his desperate hopes of a normal life on Hester, Sam wants her out of the way for good. And Gabe has always done what Sam asks . . .

A second Hester Thursby Mystery will follow in 2019.


Little Comfort Giveaway

Head over to edwin-hill.com and sign up for my newsletter by September 26. I’ll be offering two signed copies of Little Comfort as a giveaway.

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81 comments:

  1. Congratulations, Edwin, on your debut novel. I’m really looking forward to meeting Hester Thursby . . . .
    [And I love the story about your grandmother . . . she sounds like a very special lady.]

    I have such wonderful memories of my grandmother. When we were young, we’d spend every Saturday with her and, for many years, Jean and I spent New Year’s Eve with her. It was a perfect ending to the holiday season and we always looked forward to that special time. She was an excellent cook and, to this day, people still remember [and comment about] her iced coffee.
    I lived with my grandmother during one summer when I was in college; that year, we sat in the living room one night and watched the moon landing together . . . .

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    1. Oh, I love that, Joan! Thank you so much… I can just picture that!

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    2. Thank you Joan. Those are the really special times, aren't they?

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  2. One of my grandmothers came out to California from Texas in the Great Depression. The other lived almost her entire life in one house in California.

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  3. My Texas grandma could go after a rattlesnake with a hoe and kill it. When I was little bitty I could remember her wringing a live chicken's neck and serving fried chicken for dinner later on. Mom said she plowed the fields with mules when Grandpa was sick and couldn't do it. She'd escort me to the hen house to check for snakes before I gathered eggs. She loved to play dominos. She put up with us bratty kids and our antics. And yet, Mom told me years later, Grandma was insecure about herself. I though she was Superwoman.

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    1. Pat, wow! I do know that my grandmother took on a black bear once...

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  4. Welcome and kudos Edwin. At first, reading on my phone as I am, I thought the librarian WAS the serial killer! Now there’s an idea.

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    1. I feel sure there are librarians, or anyone who works in customer service, who have considered it.

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    2. Oh, Ann. I really like that idea. There are many more books in the series...

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  5. I had two remarkable grandmothers. One laughed a lot, loved her husband and children and dogs, and didn't mind a bit if we thought she was silly. She KNEW she was silly, and kept right on being her silly self to the end. She was my favorite grandma.

    But the other . . . Oh, the other grandma was a rock solid Christian born of hillbilly stock, from the deepest pocket of the Ozarks. She could cook and kick butt at the same time, sing hymns, patiently teach her granddaughter to make candy, or knit, or plant her garden by the moon signs. She arranged her world to suit herself, played favorites amongst her children and grandchildren, and drove us all to distraction on many, many occasions. Most of my best grandmother stories are about her, and more often than not, now that I am an adult and need to kick butt from time to time, she is the grandmother I turn to for inspiration.

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    1. I have formal photos of both grandmothers, but I have no idea what happened to the countless snapshots we took over the years. My favorite photo story is about my hillbilly grandmother. Over her bed she hung a hand-tinted photo of a woman standing next to a tall rose bush. When I asked about it, she said it was the only photo she had of her mother. And the rose bush, with its plethora of pink roses? Well, her mother had a rose bush by the front gate, just where the photo was taken, but her father tore it out one day because he had some other thing he wanted in that spot. Broke her mother's heart. The photo was originally a picture of her mother and her father, but she didn't like her father, so she had the hand-tinter paint the rose bush over him. You couldn't tell he had ever been there at all. Sadly, one of my great-aunts got the picture when my grandmother died, and I have no idea where it is today. But I still have the story.

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    2. I really love this story, Gigi. My favorite moments with both of my grandmothers were when I realized they were complete, fully realized human beings with lived lives. It sounds like you had a chance to see that too!

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  6. I got a shiver myself when I read this, Edwin--I've already read a review of your book and marked it down as a must read--now more than ever--but I can't recall where or when I saw that review....

    My Grandma Thompson was an only child. Who raised 13 children. She liked nothing better than a house full of her children and grandchildren. She loved her hens, especially the Bantam ones, and besides gardening--vegetables and flowers, she was the local postmistress for 40 years--until the govmint forced her to retire at 65. I loved being allowed in the post office. It was a one-room building on the corner of their property--it had a pot-bellied stove, wanted posters, and a porch with a bell which we were allowed to ring when the mail was in and sorted. She was a vivacious, socialable woman--with room in her heart for all of us and I loved her dearly. Come to think of it, she would have made an excellent librarian.

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    1. Come on Flora! That is right out of a book!

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    2. Flora, one of the things that always impressed me was my grandmother's work ethic. She went to work in her forties, after her husband died at a young age, and she raised three children on her own by working at the Whitman Library. Sounds like your grandmother was cut from the same cloth.

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  7. Waving hi to Edwin! What an amazing grandmother. Both my grandmothers were great cooks and bakers, but otherwise they were kind of opposite. One was tall and reserved. Dorothy smoked cigarettes with a cigarette holder and had a tasteful cocktail before dinner. My grandfather didn't drive because of a heart condition so she drove everywhere. Ruth was as short or shorter than I am now, could sew anything (think a wool coat for a Barbie doll, for example), wore sausage curls and blue rayon dresses, never drank a drop of alcohol, and snored like a sailor. I adored both of them. Can't wait to read your new book!

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    1. Edith—seriously? That is quite the description!

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    2. Waving back, Edith. My grandmother in this story never learned to drive. She took one lesson and crashed the car. It's amazing to think someone could live through the entire twentieth century in suburban America without driving, but she did it!

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  8. Congratulations, Edwin!

    My grandmother on my mom's side was a Navy nurse who married my grandfather after something like four dates (they met when he was stateside for treatment of TB in Philadelphia). Strong-willed, opinionated, but fiercely dedicated to her family.

    My grandmother on my dad's side was the inspiration for Betty, the protagonist in "Home Front Homicide," my short story in MURDER MOST HISTORICAL. A real-life Betty, she was also really a Rosie the Riveter (building P39 planes for Bell Airplane during WWII), worked for years in a high school cafeteria, and raised two boys. She was just as opinionated as my other grandmother, but a lot less vocal. But everybody knew when Grandma pressed her lips together to form a thin line, she was NOT HAPPY.

    Mary/Liz

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    1. What a great expression! And yes, what a great book character…

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  9. Wow— these are great stories! And weren’t we lucky to know them? My grandma mini was very chic and well appointed… Her apartment was beautiful. She taught me how to type, too! And to knit and crochet. And she always made us little lemon pancakes. She left me her jeweled watch, which I treasure. Her husband, grandpa Dave… Big businessman! We should do grandfathers too.

    My other grandmother, Rose, was very strange… Very — spectral. We always thought she sort of lived in another world where everything was perfect and lovely and beautiful. … Very Mary Pickford, you know? She even looked like her.

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  10. Of course her name was Minnie. Not mini. It was really Minda
    , and she said she always regretted that she hadn’t chosen to be called Mindy. But she was not a Mindy, not at all.

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    1. She sounds lovely, and Minda is a nice name that should come back into fashion. My silly grandmother was named LaVerne, but everybody always called her Boo.

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  11. My California grandma coaxed hummingbirds to sit on her finger. My New York grandma taught us the songs of her youth ("Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do). I have a copy of the letters she and her sisters sent to each other during their years at Mt. Holyoke. One sister became a librarian, one a HS principal, and Grandma was a teacher. They were orphans, raised by their grandfather, and were expected to earn their own way in life.

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  12. Great cover, great title, great premise! Happy debut to you, Edwin!

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  13. Congratulations, Edwin! Looking forward to reading that book. Growing up I lived next door to one set of grandparents and less than 2 miles away from the other so I felt very close to both. The older I get the more I think about them and wish I knew more about what life was like back in their day. Recently when I had my passport picture taken I was stunned to see that it looked like my father's mother! I never realized before but when I see pictures of a very younger Alice there is a resemblance. Whenever I see Judi Dench I am also reminded of her but can't quite say why. Although they don't look alike there is something, maybe it's the voice or facial expressions.

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    1. Yes, I wish I had asked more, too...

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    2. My favorite moments with anyone like a grandparent is when I get a glimse into their full life, lived. I went to see a summer stock production of A Chorus Line with my grandmother when I was in my 20s and she was in her 80s. The show is risque, and watching it with her made me feel uncomortable, to say the least. When it was over, she asked me if I liked it, and I said something noncommital, and then she told me that she'd seen the original production on Broadway. It reminded me that she already knew everything that the show was about - including tits and ass.

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  14. I was fortunately to also be sitting at that Malice Domestic banquet table. I knew Hank already, obviously, and I had been introduced to Edwin by Shawn Reilly Simmons earlier in the weekend. I could have predicted that these two would hit it off and be sharing the same event eventually even had I not been there to see it happen.

    As for Grandmothers, my Mimi was also responsible for my love of reading. I can remember sitting on her lap as she read me many, many books. And beyond that, she also taught me the power of a good story - she was such a gifted storyteller in her own right. Much of my knowledge of the history of my Dad's family is directly linked to the stories she told me. Oh, how I loved to listen to her!

    Lastly, Little Comfort is a brilliant series debut. Don't miss this book, folks. Hester Thursby is sure to become a favorite of yours, just as she is of mine.

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    1. That was such a fun evening, and we really do have the incomparable Shawn Reilly Simmons to thank. Shameless plug: the sixth installment of Shawn's Red Carpet Catering series, Murder with All the Trimmings, comes out in November!

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    2. Oh, what a great story, Kristopher..and oh, remember Michael as the be-medaled waiter? Napkin over his arm? Perfect posture? Wonderful!

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    3. Aw thanks! I have to admit, one of my great pleasures in life is introducing friends! I met Edwin and Michael the year before in Toronto and enjoyed a very memorable dinner together, and we hit it off! I'm thrilled Little Comfort is getting the attention it deserves--it's an amazing book, written by an amazing person!

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  15. Hi Jungle Reds,

    Many thanks for hosting me today, and for letting me share a tiny bit of my grandmother's story!

    I am, as usual, technically challenged today. If you see a reply from "Unknown" it is likely me, Edwin Hill.

    Best,

    eh

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  16. HI Edwin and cheering for your debut novel! My grandmothers were both formidable women, but it's my great grandmother I admire most. French. Married at 17. Had 14 children. After her husband dies she went out to her daughter in Australua, alone on a ship at 89!

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    1. Thank you Rhys. I think you carry on that spirit of adventure...

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  17. Edwin, what is automatic writing? Tell us more! I didn't have much contact with my Montana grandmother since she was far away and died when I was young. I have lovely memories of Nanny, my maternal grandmother, who took care of me a lot when I was growing up. There are too many to list, but I loved her turn of phrase like "Willy off the pickle boat" and "sashaying down the avenue like Lady Astor." Sleepovers at her house were always a treat, and the menu always featured American chop suey and peanut butter fudge. Edwin, you've taken me down memory lane this morning!

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    1. Edwin, I wrote an entire novel that revolves around automatic writing, but don't want to steal your thunder so maybe you can explain to Ingrid!

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    2. And since I've read all your novels, I obviously know what it is, but I just don't remember! ;)

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    3. Ingrid, as I understand it (and Deborah, please fill in) automatic writing is when you channel the writing and thoughts of someone else, usually a spirit. People who do automatic writing usually have no recollection of it afterwards.

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  18. Love this post and all of the Grandmother stories! My grandma also had a big influence on me, and still does. She competed in the Miss America pageant in 1946, and met my grandfather shortly afterwards through mutual friends (turns out he was pestering them to introduce him to the beauty queen). They were married within the year and went on to have seven kids and a happy life together. She was an artist, and I'm lucky to have many of her paintings hanging on my walls. I relate to her now as a creative person, because she was always rushing to get that last painting done and hoping the paint would dry before we all piled in the car and raced to the gallery opening--when I'm up against deadline I feel that same exhilaration of...will I make it?! And I hope it's good! LOL

    Congratulations to Edwin on all of his well deserved success! <3

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    1. Oh, I would love to see the photos and paintings! What a legacy!

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    2. Shawn, I feel like you always make your deadlines! What a terrific story. It's so wonderful to grow up in a creative environment!

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  19. What great stories, including yours, Edwin. Shivers, indeed!

    My paternal grandmother was similar to Gigi's: hillbilly Christian, except instead of devout she was hypocritical and self-righteous. She was 18 when she and Grandpa, age 36, got married. Together they drank a gallon of beer a day, and Grandma kept watch on the neighborhood out the window of the front room. Including my uncle's house across the street. Aunt Jean ran around, and Grandma didn't approve of her or my mother. She loved Aunt Eileen, though. Naturally, they lived seven states away.

    My other grandmother, and my delightful great grandmother, were elegant, lovely women who more than made up for Grandma Gert!

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    1. "Aunt Jean ran around"? That is hilarious...and maybe a title for a country song?

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    2. Thank you Karen. Family dynamics... there's nothing like them, right?

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  20. Hi, Edwin, and congratulations on the success of your debut! I love the title and the cover is stunning! And what fun to tell grandmother stories. I never knew my paternal grandmother, who died when my dad was a boy. But my maternal grandmother, Nanny, lived with us from the time I was born and was a huge influence. She'd had a hard life, widowed young, raising four kids during the depression, but she was unfailingly kind and gentle. She taught me to read by the time I was four. She had a great interest in the world, and we spent hours pouring over issues of National Geographic and plotting dream journeys on my illuminated globe. Egypt fascinated her, interestingly, as she was a Southern Baptist girl from west Dallas. And although a lot of her dreams weren't realized, she always told me that I could accomplish whatever I set my heart on.

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    1. When I was a kid, my grandmother would lead trips in Europe. I loved hearing the stories of these far off places when she returned. I'd go find them in the encyclpedia and dream of visiting.

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  21. I love libraries (and murder!), can't wait to read this story. Even though she had to quit school in the 8th grade, my grandmother was the smartest person I know, read everything she could get her hands on, including the encyclopedia just for fun, researched birds, plants, you name it. I'm sure my love of reading started with her.

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    1. Thank you Grandma Cootie. It's amazing how much you can learn just through curiosity, isn't it?

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    2. I read the encyclopedia, too...and my grandsons think it's hilarious.

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  22. My mom’s mother was a loving, kind, intelligent, fun-loving person. She had been trained as a teacher in Italy—after she was already married and had children, my mom’s older siblings. Right after she graduated, she and my grandfather had the opportunity to come to the US, so she never had a chance to teach. Here in the US my mom and her younger brother were born. Grandma did some tutoring to earn a little extra money. My siblings and cousins and I had the most wonderful times at Grandma and Grandpa’s house! They lived in a tiny two family house that Grandpa and my uncles built in their spare time. They lived in the first floor apartment, which consisted of three tiny rooms and a huge pantry. (The upstairs apartment was usually rented to relatives or family friends.) Grandma always had drawing paper, crayons, water colors, clay, coloring books, etc, as well as the latest issues of Highlights and Jack and Jill magazines. (She also had Mad Magazine and assorted comic books.) She read to us, and acted out the stories. She told us her own versions of many fairy tales, and of course, acted them out, too. Sometimes she was laughing so hard that she could hardly talk. We were not only allowed, but encouraged, to take every last item out of her pantry, bring them into the living room and play Store. We took turns being the shopkeeper and the customers. In my family there were five kids, and often many of our numerous cousins would be there, too, somehow fitting into the tiny rooms.

    Outside, they had a swing set, a hammock, a sandbox, a wading pool, and later on they also had a porch swing. They grew a lot of fruits, especially berries, and vegetables, and we were allowed to eat everything straight from the gardens. I forgot to mention the picnic table where we would eat if it was nice out. We all, especially my own siblings and I, who were apartment dwellers, thought their yard was enormous! The lot was probably less than fifty feet wide, but to us it was Paradise! My grandfather delighted in watching us have fun. He built most of the outdoor equipment, like the picnic table, sandbox, and swing set.

    Both grandparents were always smiling or laughing. When I was twelve years old there was a huge family gathering at their home, and someone snapped a picture of Grandma sitting on Grandpa’s lap, both of them laughing.

    Each of the couple of dozen grandchildren believed “*I* am the Favorite”. And nobody questioned it.

    DebRo

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    1. What a fantastic story, Deborah! Your grandparents house sounds wonderful. It also sounds like the one Hester lives in with her non-husband, Morgan.

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    2. That is ADORABLE. And inspirational. And YOU were the favorite, absolutely.

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  23. Hank, thank you for bringing Edwin to us today, and the first conversation between the two of you is priceless. Edwin, Little Comfort is already on my radar, and the only reason I don't own a copy yet and have read it is all the catch-up reading I was doing for Bouchercon and after. Now that my reading schedule is getting back to slightly more organized, Little Comfort is going on my TBB (to be bought) list and my TBR list.

    And, Edwin, your grandmother sounds amazing. What an important legacy she's left. It was my mother who instilled not only the love of reading in me, but the value of it. Sitting and reading was considered a worthwhile or valuable use of time by my mother, so that allowed me to pursue my love of reading without feeling I should be doing something else. Now, my grown children and my grandchildren love to read, too. Those who have gone before us have paved a wonderful path, haven't they?

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    1. Wasn't it wonderful coming home from Bouchercon with so much to read! I have a list as long as my arm... maybe twice as long.

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    2. Isn't it? I was SO clueless...xoxo And yes, indeed!

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  24. AH! Librarian here and I have to say this premise is GENIUS!!! A very Patricia Highsmith/Agatha Christie mashup indeed. I can't wait to read about Hester Thursby, Edwin. Congratulations on your debut - it sounds like a brilliant start to a fabulous series. I'm biased but I really do think librarians are the best sort of people.

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    1. Hi Jenn, thank you. Be forewarned, the story is on the darker side! Let me know what you think of it.

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  25. Just finished this book - wonderful debut! Loved it!

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  26. My mother's mother was widowed young. Grandma baked and was a housekeeper, including for my step-grandfather's father. Grandma loved gardening, cooking, and baking, and was good at all kind of crafts. I used to spend a week at her house each summer. My dad's mother was a lot older and died when I was 11.

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    1. I am amazed by how many stories on this post are about women fending for themselves. Such heroes! My grandmother was one of them too! Hester Thursby - who goes one on one with a serial killer - would love them all.

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  27. Edwin, your grandmother sounds like an amazing woman, as does Hester! Your book is in my TBR! My grandma taught herself how to swim when she was in her fifties, taught me how to play gin rummy -- and let me win! I have a prized ship model she won for having the biggest catch of the day on a deep sea fishing excursion. Granddaddy caught nothing that day!

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    1. Oh, Vicki. I am hopeless. I responded to you, but it showed up down below. Many thanks to you!

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  28. Edwin, Jungle Reds, and all the commenters, I love these grandmother stories. My Grammy (naternal) was a great story teller about her childhood (born 1885), being raised by her Grammy in their boarding house, while her Mother “went to business”. (Not sure when her father died.) I could see, touch, and smell the house and her Grammy and Mother just from her stories.

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  29. Hi Elisabeth, I couldn't agree more. My grandmother, the one featured in this story, was born in 1896, and hearing about how much the world had changed in her lifetime was amazing. It was some of the best time I spent with her.

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  30. Hi Vicki, thank you! I spent many an evening with my grandmother fishing for bass on Lake Sunapee. I only remember catching anything worthwhile once, and we wound up throwing it back anyway. As much as I like murder on the page, I don't have much of a stomach for it in real life!

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