“A lover of horses as a child, Susan Stafford…is helping to provide youth with stories she herself would have liked reading. With not much to read as a horse-crazed kid, she decided to pen what she plans to be the first of a series…’I wanted to write something I would have loved if I were 11 or 12…’
“In The Seary Line, Nicole Lundrigan has woven a multigenerational tapestry that explores the changing world of women in the fictional outport of Bended Knee, Newfoundland…This novel, Lundrigan’s third, is brimming with sorrow, tragedy, regret and death… Even Newfoundland politics are not broached…so that the affairs and policies of family and community can take centre stage. Lundrigan’s rich domestic details provide all the necessary context of geography and history. Lundrigan is at her best when writing the domestic arts and imbuing them with a poignant sense of meaning. For example, a lost mother’s love for her young boy is found in the outfits pulled from his trunk, and the sadness ‘[t]hat this small boy, so lost in the world, would barely get a chance to feel the affection in the stitches, the touch that lingered in the fabric.’…Lundrigan has a reputation for pitch-perfect dialect, and she earns it again in The Seary Line, But so much of this novel is about what remains unsaid, undiscovered, and unresolved. Lundrigan establishes enough dramatic tension to keep us tuning the pages…The novel’s greatest strength, and the reason to read it, is to experience the lives of such intricately wrought characters…the detail and affection in Lundrican’s stitches…create a cloth of vivid colour and lingering texture.”
Leslie Vryenhoek, Newfoundland Quarterly, Vol.101, number 3.
“If there is a new wave of Newfoundland fiction going on, novelist and Upper Gullies native Nicole Lundrigan may be one of its leaders… Mysteriousness and desolation pervade the atmosphere, along with a constant mood of foreboding. Lundrigan writes about Newfoundland the way William Faulkner wrote about the American south… For Lundrigan, it is the inner life of her characters, what they think and say, and the language of their subtle and grand gestures that matter… Lundrigan’s writing is visual and dark — like the brooding images in paintings by David Blackwood. In showing a contemporary reverence for the small and fleeting, Lundrigan solemnizes her characters’ every action — because these slight gestures and small moments fit with what is going on. Of interest to Lundrigan are the connections between love and loss, beauty and melancholy. Her prose is stripped down and restrained, emphasizing the subtleties and brutality of human predicament. The story is rich nonetheless, and intensified through a strong element of suspense
Read the article from Mun’s Gazette here:
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