Thornhill

When you first spot this beautiful book on a bookshop shelf you will know that this is something entirely out of the ordinary. Handling it, you cannot fail to be curious about its ominously monochrome palette, complete with black edges. The story itself is told through the experiences of two protagonists, separated by 35 years. Withdrawn, lonely and traumatised Mary is growing up in the 1980s in Thornhill, a children's home which is due to close down, where she is bullied and threatened. The ringleader terrorises Mary by thumping repeatedly on her bedroom door at night. Mary's story is told through her diary entries, the prose sparse and deeply affecting. Interwoven with this text are the pages that tell the story of modern day Ella. Ella's story is told purely through black and white images, the details of which tell us that Ella's mum is no longer with them; perhaps she has died. Ella and her dad have recently moved to a house which backs on to the now ruined Thornhill. Her dad has gone away on a work trip and Ella is alone. Two lonely girls find their lives mysteriously intertwined and you find yourself swiftly drawn into their story. There is plenty of the gothic in this tale, from the brooding silhouette of the ruined building now swathed in barbed wire and bindweed to the sinister presence of the abandoned dolls that Mary has crafted. There are references to both Jane Eyre and The Secret Garden. It is a story that is sad in a particularly bleak way and perhaps not a good choice for the most sensitive readers. However, I was utterly blown away by its sparse power. Overall, a truly original, bleakly beautiful and compulsive read. 533 pages / Ages 13+ / Reviewed by Emily Marcuccilli, school librarian

Suggested Reading Age 11+