It is the smell of a million mould-blossomed pages, of a thousand decaying bindings, of a universe of dead words.” ― Jess Kidd
Himself by Jess Kidd sits upon my shelf waiting to be reread. I’ve pushed it upon friends, and brought it back home and though it has been a year or so since I read it, I think of it still.
This book is the type that sends the reader tumbling head long into the pages and has them forgetting to surface for breath. At first, Kidd’s omnipresent point of view baffled me, but once I was accustomed to her style of writing I realized it was the best way to bring the story to life. Vivid details and scrumptious imagery paints a, at times, morbid and mysterious tale. Through many points of view, the story unfolds, layering plots, POVs and secrets upon secrets. Even the tiny Irish village, Mulderigg, seems to be a living, breathing character with its tale to tell.
Determined to discover the truth of why he was left an orphan, city boy Mahony arrives in the tiny town, and sets all tongues wagging. His face is familiar, and there are those who know the answers he searches for, Mahony just has to discover who they are, before they find away to shut him up for good.

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