It’s a glorious day when author’s copies arrive in the mail! Yesterday THE WINGSPAN OF SEVERED HANDS landed on my doorstep in an unassuming cardboard box. I’m struck with awe by the way the books glow with numinous light. The strangeness of the yellow tone is difficult to transmit via photo. Have a look:
Beneath this piercing golden ray, there’s a disconcerting sense of greenish hues — not so much a color as an impression, a subtle warning, a sickly hint that this beauty is not averse to ugliness. That you, the reader, will be asked to embrace both, for this is what The Yellow Queen requires of you if you wish to survive her myth.
“Time is the winning predator,
and every moment spirals deeper into
the heart of the beast.”
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