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A new novel by the author of The Loney, which was praised by Stephen King as "an amazing piece of fiction." In the wink of an eye, as quick as a flea, The Devil he jumped from me to thee. And only when the Devil had gone, Did I know that he and I'd been one . . . Every autumn, John Pentecost returns to the farm where he grew up, to help gather the sheep down from the moors for the winter. Very little changes in the Endlands, but this year, his grandfather--the Gaffer--has died and John's new wife, Katherine, is accompanying him for the first time. Each year, the Gaffer would redraw the…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
A new novel by the author of The Loney, which was praised by Stephen King as "an amazing piece of fiction." In the wink of an eye, as quick as a flea, The Devil he jumped from me to thee. And only when the Devil had gone, Did I know that he and I'd been one . . . Every autumn, John Pentecost returns to the farm where he grew up, to help gather the sheep down from the moors for the winter. Very little changes in the Endlands, but this year, his grandfather--the Gaffer--has died and John's new wife, Katherine, is accompanying him for the first time. Each year, the Gaffer would redraw the boundary lines of the village, with pen and paper but also through the remembrance of tales and timeless communal rituals, which keep the sheep safe from the Devil. But as the farmers of the Endlands bury the Gaffer and prepare to gather the sheep, they begin to wonder whether they've let the Devil in after all.
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Autorenporträt
ANDREW MICHAEL HURLEY lives in Lancashire, where he teaches English literature and creative writing. He has published two short story collections. His first novel, The Loney, won the Costa First Book Award, was short-listed for the James Herbert Award, and was published in twenty territories.
Rezensionen
Hurley is a superb storyteller. He leads you up on to the moors, into the eye of a snowstorm, dropping little clues, sinister hints at devilment and demonic possession. Then he changes course, scuffs over the prints in the snow, springs new villainies on you, abandons you overnight in the hills The Times