I pounced on Sara Flannery Murphy's debut novel The Possessions as soon as the manuscript was available and was instantly entranced. This book is literary and seductive, with the perfect hints of mystery and sci-fi to make it an incredibly engrossing read. It's already received a starred review from Publishers Weekly calling it, “a beautifully rendered, haunting page-turner,” and another starred review from Booklist says it's "unforgettable and impossible to put down." I could not agree more. Make sure to grab the egalley from Edelweiss, and then read on for a special message from the author herself on her love of libraries.
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I grew up in libraries. Their interiors stand out in my memory as clearly as the details of friends’ homes. When I was very young, Little Rock’s downtown branch was a low building, spanning a block, all faux-marble floors and huge pillars. Later, the Main Branch was rehomed in a tall building with broad, sunny views of the Arkansas River. When I lived in a tourist town as a teenager, I frequented the local Carnegie library, with a steep stone staircase outside and twin mezzanines inside.
But more than the architectural details, the libraries I’ve entered over the decades have shared one trait in common. Libraries introduced me to the beauty of quiet. Silence not as an absence of noise, but as a presence in and of itself, textured and rich. The quiet is a level on top of a hum of activity: pages turning, patrons whispering, pens scratching, keyboards clicking. That particular quiet, filled with other people’s ambitions and daydreams, has always felt deeply welcoming to me. It’s an invitation to lose yourself in someone else’s story, or work on making your own story stronger.
When I was in my early twenties, I briefly worked at the same neighborhood library I’d visited as a little girl. I loved entering that environment every morning, both surrounded by busyness and immersed in a focused hush. Re-shelving books, I’d often pause at the end of a row to read an interesting book jacket. By watching the patterns of what patrons checked out and returned, I discovered some of my favorite authors. There’s a sense of connection built into libraries: each book you pick up has been vetted, loved, and cared for by someone else. A warm, wordless transaction between bookworms.
When I moved hours and hours away from my family for the first time, my apartment was located directly across the street from the University City Library in Missouri. I sought refuge there whenever I was lonely or uncertain. Being around other library-goers felt instantly companionable.
Libraries aren’t always hushed, of course. Storytime, study groups, questions asked and answered, all create an outer ring of liveliness. Still, the stereotype of the library as a quiet space has never felt like a negative one to me. Libraries prove that silence can be productive and powerful, offering constant proof of how much potential can thrive in one building.
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Thanks, Sara! Now I hope you all head straight to Edelweiss and dig in to The Possessions.
-Amanda