Things are going gangbusters for Liz Hand’s new thriller — a review popped up in Entertainment Weekly*, it was listed in the Washington Post‘s spring recommendations list, first chapter is here, there’s the promise of a fantastic review in Booklist, readings are beginning to be set up.
Now, how about that book?
Turns out there was a printer mistake. The book should have shipped from the printer on March 16th (even that was a week later than expected). What happened? In one of those small early (with huge consequences) wrong-checkbox-ticked mistakes: the printer chose the wrong paper stock. We didn’t discover this until final copies were shipped to us. Too late and suddenly we were in the midst of perhaps our biggest printer screw-up ever. Evah? Ever.
So the book was restarted from zero and is now scheduled to ship next Monday — Yet another week and amost a month after it was expected to go out. Liz is probably thinking, “What was all the hurry for anyway back in December and January?” and we’re gnashing our teeth. Natch.
Fingers crossed the book will ship next Monday (and be in stores maybe a week after that) andthat all these early challenges just makes the final book stronger.
In the meantime the EW review is below. Next week we’ll be sending out more review copies (and early orders) and be posting something about looking for pictures of fave punk bands (or people) and weird and damaged pix a la Cass Neary. But that’s next week.
Update: There’s a groovy review in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinal:
“Hand (Mortal Love, Black Light) expertly ratchets up the suspense until it’s at the level of a high-pitched scream near novel’s end.”
– Dorman Shindler
*Here’s the EW review:
Thirty years ago, Cassandra Neary’s grim photos of punks and corpses briefly made her the toast of the downtown art scene. Now an alcoholic wage slave, Neary accepts a magazine assignment to interview one of her reclusive photographer heroes on a Maine island, where a rash of missing-teenager cases and an off-kilter populace grab her attention. It takes time to warm to the self-destructive, sour-tempered protagonist –she drives drunk, pops Adderall and Percocet, and generally tries to not stick out her neck. Luckily, Hand’s terse but transporting prose keeps the reader turning pages until Neary’s gritty charm does, finally, shine through.