Foxlowe

A compulsive and chilling debut about a girl growing up in a cult We were the Family, and Foxlowe was our home. There was me � my name is Green � and my little sister, Blue. There was October, who we called Toby, and Ellensia, Dylan, Liberty, Pet and Egg. There was Richard, of course, who was one of the Founders. And there was Freya. We were the Family, but we weren't just an ordinary family. We were a new, better kind of family. We didn't need to go to school, because we had a new, better kind of education. We shared everything. We were close to the ancient way of living and the ancient landscape. We knew the moors, and the standing stones. We celebrated the solstice in the correct way, with honey and fruit and garlands of fresh flowers. We knew the Bad and we knew how to keep it away. And we had Foxlowe, our home. Where we were free. There really was no reason for anyone to want to leave. "An astonishing literary debut about a young girl's coming of age in the haunting, enchanting world of an English commune -- a modern gothic novel with echoes of Room and Never Let Me Go. Foxlowe is a crumbling old house in the moors -- wild, secluded, and magical place. For Green, it is not just home, but everything she knows. Outside, people live in little square houses, with unhappy families and tedious jobs. At Foxlowe, Green runs free through the hallways and orchards, in the fields and among the Standing Stones. Outside, people are corrupted by money. At Foxlowe, the Family shares everything. Outside, the Bad is everywhere. At Foxlowe, everyone in the Family is safe -- as long as they follow Freya's rules and perform her rituals. But as Green's little sister, Blue, grows up, she shows more and more interest in the Outside. Before long she starts to talk about becoming a Leaver. ... Building inexorably to its terrifying climax, Foxlowe tells a chilling, irresistible story of superstition and survival, betrayal and redemption, and a utopia gone badly wrong"-- Amazon summary A chilling, compulsive debut about group mentality, superstition and betrayal and a utopian commune gone badly wrong We were the Family, and Foxlowe was our home. There was me my name is Green and my little sister, Blue. There was October, who we called Toby, and Ellensia, Dylan, Liberty, Pet and Egg. There was Richard, of course, who was one of the Founders. And there was Freya. We were the Family, but we werent just an ordinary family. We were a new, better kind of family. We didnt need to go to school, because we had a new, better kind of education. We shared everything. We were close to the ancient way of living and the ancient landscape. We knew the moors, and the standing stones. We celebrated the solstice in the correct way, with honey and fruit and garlands of fresh flowers. We knew the Bad and we knew how to keep it away. And we had Foxlowe, our home. Where we were free. There really was no reason for anyone to want to leave. A Chilling, Compulsive Debut About Group Mentality, Superstition And Betrayal - And A Utopian Commune Gone Badly Wrong. Foxlowe Is A Crumbling Old House In The Moors, A Wild And Magical Place. For Green, It Is Home, And Everything She Knows. Outside, People Live In Little Square Houses, With Unhappy Families And Boring Jobs. At Foxlowe, Green Runs Free In The Corridors And Gardens, Among The Goat Shed And Fruit Trees, The Standing Stones And The Moors. Outside, People Are Corrupted By Money. At Foxlowe The Family Share Everything. Outside, The Bad Is Everywhere. At Foxlowe, The Family Are Safe. As Long As They Do What Freya Says, And Perform The Rituals Correctly. But As Green's Little Sister, Blue, Grows Up, She Shows More And More Interest In The Outside, And Then She Starts To Talk About Becoming A Leaver ... Eleanor Wasserberg. A compulsive and chilling debut about a girl growing up in a cult WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO LEAVE? Green and Blue are sisters. Foxlowe is home. Outside is Bad. Green understands. Why can't Blue? 'Will lure you in - then cut to the kill' Guardian 'Wonderfully tense' Emerald Street 'To read Foxlowe is not unlike wandering through Foxlowe itself on some long night: I felt never quite certain where the corridors might take me, nor whom I might meet on turning a corner; and in the final moments I found myself hurtling down a flight of steps into the dark' Sarah Perry, author of The Essex Serpent 'The ending is like a punch to the throat' The i