Welcome to CatrionaLand (All are welcome!)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Hurray and hurray—we love Catriona day! She is incredibly talented, and incredibly wonderful, and we are always so delighted when she visits—especially with a new book. The brand new one is intriguingly titled The Dead Room. Can you guess why? I bet it is not what you think.) (And I have devoured it, and it is terrific.)

Anyway. Today, delightfully, she takes us on a very special journey. To CatrionaLand!

(And some very special info for you at the end!)

Blurred Lines

By Catriona McPherson

I quite often, when I’m writing a book, start with an interesting bit of reality and run. When I was beginning The Child Garden, finding out about rocking sones and devil’s bridges was utter catnip.

Rocking stones are neolithic, egg-shaped stones – some enormous – that sit in stone cups and, if shoved, rock. Now, as you can imagine if you consider how long ago neolithis (?) was, hardly any of them survive to . . . I tried hard not to say “rock on” here. I failed . . . because people get too enthusiastic and shove too hard. Then the stones tumble off down hills and break in riverbeds.

That much is true.

Devil’s bridges have nothing to do with rocking stones. They’re just bridges that happen to be in Scotland or Ireland and so, through no fault of their own, have gathered stories about how the devil and his minions can’t cross them, like a sheep gather burrs. The stories go on that the devil then lurks on one side or the other asking for soul swaps. 

Two thoughts occur: one – these old bridges are not that big and the rivers underneath are usually no more than rocky streams so why doesn’t he just get his cloven hooves wet and paddle across?; two – wouldn’t it help to know which side?

That much is also “true”. That is, I didn’t make these tales up. “Tam O’Shanter” is related and the devil has become an ordinary goat in some retellings.

But, at some point downstream, I put the stories of the stones and bridges together and I think I came up with a piece of folklore that rocking stones are found near devil’s bridges, and have devils trapped inside them. They have to be rocked every day – thirteen times, naturally – to keep him addled so he can’t escape. This now feels as real to me as leprechauns’ gold and Santa’s love of a chimney. And I’m not that great a note-keeper so I’m not entirely clear on where exactly I started making stuff up and what might be rooted in Celtic lore.

The same thing happened with the lowping stane (leaping stone) in The Witching Hour. It’s real. See pic. It’s outside the old school in the village of Dirleton. And I know for a fact that schoolchildren used to leap over it on the last day of school in the summertime, because it says so on the tourist information board in the old phone box with the wee free library.

In my book, what happens is the children are the only ones who still leap over it – with stinging nettles strewn on the top for extra peril – but it used to be the case that everyone in the village did so, right before harvest-time. The pure of heart would clear it. Witches and other evil-doers, though, would fail, stumble and hurt themselves. Thus the village could be sure that, when they all went out to bring in the crops, there would be no one whose wickedness would cause blight and famine.

Jungle Red Readers, I have no clue where the join is between the truth and Catrionaland in the middle of that. (And I’m writing this on a plane, en route to Malice, where I didn’t download the app before take-off so I can’t check.)

All of that is by way of excusing what’s just happened in The Dead Room. I used a real town, in a real county, in a real country, as the setting for the story. When I was done, I scrupulously (Ha!) laid out in the author’s note that Menstrie, Clackmannanshire, Scotland was real but that the property centre, the nursing home, the pub, the garden centre and the Lord family’s scrapyard business (Lord’s Will Provide!) were imaginary. I claimed that Sir Andy Murray’s gold postbox in Dunblane was the only actual location in the entire novel.

Then I sent out ARCs. And one early reader (with a story of his own (which I told for Kristopher Zgorski at BOLO Books on account of the musical theatre angle)) came back with an “Ummmmmm, Catriona? The scrapyard? Ehhhhhh, have you ever been to Sam Burns’ Yard in East Lothian? Because the similarity is uncanny.”

Yeek! I never miss a trip to Sam Burns’ Yard when I’m in Scotland. Of course it was there that I saw faded glass and china out in the elements filling with leaves and dust as the seasons passed. It was there I found out that hotel overstock mattresses are wrapped in plastic with the prices Sharpied on, and that the further back you go the more likely you are to find the skeletons of bikes and barrows poking up through long grass.

Of course Sam Burns’ Yard is better organised and doesn’t degenerate into the kind of outsize trail mix of dolls’ heads and door hinges you’ll find in Lord’s, no matter how far towards the back fence you meander. Still though. It’s the place I found the trove of mid-century bookclub hardbacks from the collection of one “T. Jolly”, as per the flyleafs, that wound up being central to the plot in Quiet Neighbors. It’s been very good to me and it deserved a mention.

Next time, I am going to keep scrupulous notes as I go along.

(Narrator from the future: she didn’t.)

HANK: Reds and readers, I cannot tell you what The Dead Room means. You will just have to read the book and find out. But let’s ask: which of the places Catriona mentions would you like to visit? And why? 

(And—pssst. THE DEAD ROOM (now the NUMBER ONE new release in psychological fiction on Amazon) is now a Kindle Unlimited! Which means, whoo hoo, if you are a Prime member, you can get it FREE!)

Catriona McPherson (she/her) was born in Scotland and immigrated to the US in 2010. A former linguistics professor, she is now a full-time fiction writer and has published: preposterous 1930s private-detective stories; realistic 1940s amateur-sleuth stories (The Edinburgh Murders is latest); and contemporary psychothriller standalones (The Dead Room is the brand-new one). These are all set in Scotland with a lot of Scottish weather. She also writes modern comic crime capers about a Scot-out-of-water in a “fictional” college town in Northern California sneezedavissneeze. Scot’s Eggs, No. 8 just won for best humorous novel at Left Coast Crime in San Francisco. Her other novels have won Agathas, Anthonys, Leftys and Macavitys and been finalists for an Edgar, a CWA Dagger and three Mary Higgins Clark awards.

Catriona is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime.

In this atmospheric thriller from Catriona McPherson, a young widow seeking refuge from her grief wades into the mists at the far end of memory lane—where something even darker awaits.

 

Reeling from the death of her husband, thirtysomething audiobook narrator Lindsay Hale retreats to her Scottish hometown and the comforts of old times. Her family rallies, her old friends offer support, but something is wrong . . . something beyond grief. Something she can only glimpse from the corner of her eye.

A new house should help, but why is she recognising strangers, forgetting familiar faces?

Every night, as Lindsay’s dream house fills with nightmares, she wonders whether she’s truly unravelling—or if something more sinister is at play. Buried secrets surface and reality bends, forcing Lindsay to face the terrifying truth that her hard-won haven isn’t so safe after all.

Do We Live in Parallel Universes? (Just A Thought.)

 HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Have you ever wished for a do-over? To go back two steps or two hours or two days? Grab your tea or coffee and spend a few minutes today with the very thought-provoking  Lori Gold. And see if your outlook on life gets changed a bit.

Is Any of This

Even Real?!

 

by Lori Gold

 

Apparently the answer to that is no. Or no-ish?

 

Recently, scientific articles originally published a couple of years ago have been popping up in my Instagram feed. (Side note: The adage of “be careful what you wish for” is being replaced by “be careful what you click on once.”)

 

The posts are from places like WIRED and people like Neil deGrasse Tyson, not unfamiliar sources, which I think makes what I’m about to say scarier? Because in each of them, there’s an argument being made that we’re living in a computer simulation. That none of this, everything around us, even us, is “real,” or at least what we consider “real.” The idea is apparently based on quantum theories and physics and all sorts of things we, as writers, pretend don’t exist because we live in a world of stories.

 

Wait a second…we live in a world of stories. To us, to writers and to many readers, our worlds are “real.” But they aren’t, objectively, right? That’s not the same as what these articles are proposing. They’re saying, and I’m talking 50-50 chance, that this is all some sort of elaborate video game (I’m paraphrasing). Like The Matrix (I’m assuming). That this universe and the lives we have were made up by something else, in this case, some super-duper-powerful computer (not a technical term). What if it’s true? Does that change the way we live? Should it?

 

This type of philosophical thinking has always interested me (more explanation for what pops up in my social media feed!). As a form of entertainment, grounded speculative is one of the genres I love, from TV shows like Lost to movies like Palm Springs, to books like This Time Tomorrow by Emma Straub, The Midnight Library by Matt Haig, One Italian Summer by Rebecca Serle, Maybe Next Time by Cesca Major, and the list goes on.

 

Each one tackles some form of speculative element, be it time travel, a time loop like Groundhog Day, or parallel universes. And like the notion of living in a simulation, these are backed by scientific theory.

 

While writing my latest novel, a grounded speculative, I did a lot of research into quantum physics. My novel centers on three women who each make a choice while playing the conversation game, kiss, marry, kill and wind up in an alternate universe where they have to live out the choices they made—and their consequences. This led me down the rabbit hole of the multiverse and many-worlds interpretation. The theory goes (and remember, I write fiction, so grain of salt!) that every time a decision is made, the outcome not taken branches off into a different reality. Every time. That means the universe has split and is still splitting into near-infinite alternatives.

 

Theoretically, then, we have lived and are living every version of our life. I became obsessed with what that means for us on a very personal level, especially, the pressure we all put on ourselves every day to make the “right” choice. As if this job or that partner or that cute, tassely-throw pillow from Target will solve our every problem.

If we get to live every version of our life, what does that do to this idea of making the “perfect” choice? What does it do for you personally and the way you make decisions? Would you want to get the chance to live another version of your life? What would you hope to be? Who would you hope is there with you?

 

Ultimately, I think that’s what these scientific theories that show up in my feed and these stories we writers build from them do: they make us think about who we are, who we hoped to be, and hopefully encourage us to close the gap.

HANK: I am living this particularly right now, and it leads me to wonder whether–and I’m not talking about the moral ethical “right” decision, but a physical choice of A thing or B thing, either of which could be fine but there’s no way to know.  And there’s no way to know, because that would mean we could predict each and every thing that would come after the decision, which is impossible.

(And I adore speculative fiction. WRONG PLACE WRONG TIME is one of the best books I've ever read.)

What do you think, Reds and Readers?Would you want to get the chance to live another version of your life? What would you hope to be? Who would you hope is there with you?

And Lori, congratulations on the new book!

 

 

 

About the Author

Lori Gold is the author of KISS, MARRY, KILL (Harper/Park Row, April 7, 2026) and the NPR Book of the Day and Zibby Media Summer Read pick ROMANTIC FRICTION (Harper/MIRA 2025). She is also the author of an adult historical and four novels for young adults (all under Lori Goldstein). She currently lives outside of Boston, where she fosters a writing community through her creative writing classes, book coaching, and writing retreats. She can be found on Instagram (@lorigoldsteinbooks;) and at http://www.lorigoldsteinbooks.com.

 

Kiss, Marry, Kill

 

Which would you choose: kiss, marry, or kill?

 

When three best friends and founders of a health and wellness app on the verge of hitting the big time play a spin on the game of “kiss, marry, kill” at their company’s summer outing, they wake up the next morning in an alternate universe to discover they’ve each done just that.

 

Kiss: In the “real world,” quiet, indecisive Aubrey is heartbroken over things ending with her fiancé. In the new reality ushered in by the game, Aubrey finds herself in bed, naked, next to their company’s newly hired graphic designer.

 

Marry: Practical, straight-laced Ilena, on the brink of a divorce following a stressful struggle with infertility, wakes up six months pregnant and married to their company’s general counsel.

 

Kill: Mallory’s philosophy is to ask neither forgiveness nor permission. Yet the reckless behavior of their biggest investor crosses lines even Mallory didn’t know she had. Especially since she’s been secretly sleeping with him for the past year. She’s mad enough to kill. But in this world, he’s already dead.

 

Told alternately from the perspectives of these three best friends, this Sliding Doors-esque story explores the nuances of ambition, the power of female friendship, and the many facets of love in our lives, ultimately asking: Do our choices define us, or do we define our choices?

 

 

IF YOU WANT TO Link to the books mentioned, here they are:

 

This Time Tomorrow

https://bookshop.org/p/books/this-time-tomorrow-a-novel-emma-straub/ee3bf3286f1a5f8a?ean=9780525539018&next=t

 

Midnight Library https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-midnight-library-a-gma-book-club-pick-a-novel-matt-haig/0e23137cd6964727?ean=9780525559498&next=t

 

One Italian Summer https://bookshop.org/p/books/one-italian-summer-a-novel-rebecca-serle/69509ba44a56aa62?ean=9781982166809&next=t

 

Maybe Next Time https://bookshop.org/p/books/maybe-next-time-a-reese-witherspoon-book-club-pick-cesca-major/5c485651b2067904?ean=9780063239975&next=t

Yes, It's Cerulean

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Well, happily, there is no escaping the new The Devil Wears Prada–and who would want to escape? I pretty much adored every minute of the original–well, except for some parts, like why would Andy have THAT boyfriend? but whatever.  I especially applauded any moment that Meryl Steep was on screen ("No no. That's all...."and "Why is no one rea-dy...."), and yes, especially the “cerulean” scene. And--the best--when Andy came out in the Chanel boots. Oh, so perfect.

Remember? She was transformed. Clothes can do that, right? And the wonderful Lucy Ashe (look at her bio! Swooning!) reminds us how clothing can be just as powerful in novels.

Keep reading, because she has a terrific question for us all at the end. And one lucky commenter will win a copy of her new book!

Dressing characters: 

        fashion and the meaning behind our clothes
by Lucy Ashe


It fascinates me how some writers describe the clothes their characters wear in intricate depth while others offer broad strokes or nothing at all. For me, I’ve always been interested in the sometimes deliberate but often unconscious choices that we make when dressing ourselves.

 The couple who leave the house wearing near-identical outfits, the woman with a wardrobe packed with her ‘uniform’ of white t-shirts and jeans, the school-teacher who wears a comedy tie every day. Even when we don’t realise it, clothes are performative: they show the world something of who we want to be, or they hide us, defending us from the scrutiny of others.


When I was writing The Model Patient, I became obsessed with the choices my characters made in dressing themselves. The Model Patient is about a former fashion-model turned housewife in 1960s London, and the clothes she wears are a protective armour from the parts of her life that frighten her. A new shirt gives her confidence, torn tights and a miniskirt is a rebellion against the disapproval of her mother-in-law, a leather jacket makes her feel strong.






Carnaby Street, London, 1966

When Evelyn Westbrook develops a dangerous relationship with her psychotherapist, it is not only her own clothes that she obsesses over, but also those of her therapist. He takes a Freudian ‘blank-slate’ approach, giving her nothing of himself and withholding his care when she needs it most, a technique that intensifies the transference (the way the patient projects past relationships onto the therapist). All she knows about him is what she can see, and she analyses his clothes with fixated vigilance.

At first she likes the softness of his clothes, no ties, no stiffly ironed shirts, instead a casual wardrobe for a 1960s Mod man: she feels that his fashion choices seem to give her permission to relax, to feel she is with someone who will listen to her with care rather than assert his authority as the doctor. But soon this begins to shift and she becomes convinced that he is making deliberate clothing choices to manipulate her, using the secrets she shares with him to wear clothes that bring up intense emotions.






Fashion advertisements in women’s magazines from the 1960s.



And although the idea of choosing clothes as a means to control and manipulate others might seem far-fetched, there is a gentler truth. We do signal something about ourselves through the clothes we wear, the brands we choose, the styles we adopt. Are we a rule-follower or breaker? What group affiliations do we have? Are we in a position of power, setting the standard and expecting others to follow? Or do we want to hide our body, to fit in, to be invisible? Or do we simply want to be comfortable, to tell anyone who sees us that today is for reading a book on the sofa, our chunky knit cardigan and thick woollen socks a sign that we do not to be disturbed.





My summer ‘uniform’ in NYC - I have worn this dress and these sneakers hundreds of times.


And a writer, too, can show much about a character through their clothes. In Orlando, Virginia Woolf uses clothing to hide and signal gender identity; in Olive Kitteridge, the gauzy green muslin dress that Olive’s daughter-in-law mocks reveals much about Olive’s personality; and Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple hides her sharp mind behind her unassuming tweed coats, plain skirts and handbags.








Do you have an outfit that makes you feel different in some way? Or a favorite item of clothing that makes you feel most like yourself?

And what about in novels - is there a book in which the way a character dresses has stayed with you well after closing the book?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Oh, yes, of course! I just got some new jeans (yes!) that actually look great. And I certainly have a hierarchy of book event outfits--I can tell you exactly what I will wear for an A-list author. 

And I am very carful about what my characters wear. I hardly ever describe them point by point, but the psychological image comes through, and every time I do it, it has a purpose.

And of course we know Grace Kelly's dress in Rear Window, and Audrey Hepburn's gown in Sabrina, and in Breakfast at Tiffany's, and how about the Ascot scene in My Fair Lady? And the dress Eliza  Dolittle wears to the ball?

In books? I can completely envision Maisie Dobbs. And Rhys's Georgie. Oh, and even Kinsey Millhone, with her little black dress. 

How about you, Reds and Readers? 

Lucy Ashe trained at the Royal Ballet School before changing course to study English Literature at Oxford University, where she graduated in 2010. She later qualified as an English and Drama teacher. Her first two novels, The Dance of the Dolls and The Sleeping Beauties, were inspired by her years immersed in the world of classical dance. The Model Patient marks a powerful evolution in her work, drawing on her personal experience as a therapy patient to explore the psychology of power, trust, and self-erasure. A former resident of London, Ashe lives in Brooklyn, New York.
Learn more at lucyashe.com.

The Model Patient: A Therapy Relationship Spiraling Towards Disaster

It’s London in the early 1960s. As fashion, art and youth culture converge, the city is transforming from postwar conservatism to the cultural upheaval of the Swinging Sixties. Even as sexual politics begin to shift, women’s lives remain tightly constrained.

Evelyn Westbrook, a young model navigating a glamorous but precarious career, enters psychoanalysis seeking clarity and control over her increasingly fraught marriage and her husband’s insistence on starting a family. Newly available, the contraceptive pill offers the tantalizing promise of bodily autonomy, along with fear, stigma, and secrecy. 

As Evelyn’s sessions with her therapist deepen, the boundaries of their relationship begin to erode. Slowly, she loses trust in her own perceptions, unsure whether her growing 

unease is a symptom of her supposed pathology – or evidence that something is deeply wrong.