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Foulsham

Edward Carey
"Dark, gothic and delightfully macabre, the Iremonger family return ..."
Foulsham – picture

‘Roald Dahl by way of Charles Dickens’ – Vox.com

Dark, gothic and delightfully macabre, the Iremonger family return…

Foulsham, London’s great filth repository, is bursting at the seams. The walls that keep the muck in are buckling, rubbish is spilling over the top, back into the city that it came from. In the Iremonger family offices, Grandfather Umbitt Iremonger broods: in his misery and fury at the people of London, he has found a way of making everyday objects assume human shape, and turning real people into objects.

Abandoned in the depths of the Heaps, Lucy Pennant has been rescued by a terrifying creature, Binadit Iremonger – more animal than human. She is desperate and determined to find Clod. But unbeknownst to her, Clod has become a golden sovereign and is ‘lost’. He is being passed as currency from hand to hand all around Foulsham, and yet everywhere people are searching for him, desperate to get hold of this dangerous Iremonger, who, it is believed, has the power to bring the mighty Umbitt down.

But all around the city, things, everyday things, are twitching into life…

Publication Date: Thu 2 Jul 2015
ISBN Hardback: 9781471401602
ISBN Ebook: 9781471401626
ISBN Paperback: 9781471401633

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Author

Edward Carey

Edward Carey is a playwright, novelist and illustrator. He has worked for the theatre in London, Lithuania and Romania and with a shadow puppet master in Malaysia. He has written two illustrated novels for adults - OBSERVATORY MANSIONS and ALVA AND IRVA - and both have been translated into many different languages. He lives in Austin, Texas, where he wrote the Iremonger Trilogy because he missed feeling cold and gloomy. Follow Edward on Twitter: @EdwardCarey70 or find out more about his books at edwardcareyauthor.com

Extract

They told me I was the only child in the whole great building,but I wasn't. I knew I wasn't. I heard them sometimes, the other children. I heard them calling out somewhere down below. I lived in a mean room with my governess. Ada Cruickshanks was her name. 'Miss Cruickshanks' I had to call her. She gave me physic very often from a tablespoon, it had a strange enough smell to it, but it felt very warming inside, as if it took away winter. I was given sweet things to eat, I had pound cake and tea cake, I had Forlichingham Pie too, which, in truth, was not my absolute favourite, the top of it being somewhat burnt according to tradition and the insides rather a swill bucket of left-overs all covered over in sweet black treacle to disguise the taste. Miss Cruickshanks said that I must eat it all up, she would be cross with me if I didn't. So then I ate it. She would tell me odd stories, Miss Cruickshanks would, not from a book, but from her head, she should sit by me and looking sternly she should begin, 'Now listen, child, this is the truth of it. 'There are two types of people, those that know about objects and those others that don't. And I'm one of the former grouping, and so I can tell you. I can tell you that once there was a place where the objects didn't do what they were told. In that place, I shan't tell you its name, I shall not be so bold, in that place people had got so thick and muddled about with things that things may have appeared a human and a human likewise be struck down a thing. In that place you must have been very careful with whatever you picked up, for you may have thought it just a common teacup when in fact it was someone called Frederick Smith who'd been turned into a cup. And amongst that place there were high lords of things, terrible bailiffs, who may turn a person into a thing without ever much caring about it. What do you think about that?' 'I hardly know what to think about it, Miss Cruickshanks.' 'Well then, consider it until you do.'