By Megan Abbott
The panic unleashed by way of a mysterious contagion threatens the bonds of kin and group in a doubtless idyllic suburban community.
The Nash kin is close-knit. Tom is a well-liked instructor, father of 2 teenagers: Eli, a hocky celebrity and lady magnet, and his sister Deenie, a diligent pupil. Their seeming balance, even though, is thrown into chaos while Deenie's ally is struck via a terrifying, unexplained seizure in school. Rumors of a unsafe outbreak unfold during the relations, university and community.
As hysteria and contagion swell, a sequence of tightly held secrets and techniques emerges, threatening to resolve friendships, households and the town's fragile inspiration of security.
A chilling tale approximately guilt, relatives secrets and techniques and the deadly energy of hope, THE FEVER affirms Megan Abbot's attractiveness as "one of the main fascinating and unique voices of her generation."*
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Extra resources for The Fever
My knowledge of the Civil War was sketchy, but I guessed it might have been Marston Moor. I added the latest waking dream to my notebook, still in a trance. The doctor was a dowsing rod, maybe, a channel for me to make contact with the boy. Alison’s curiosity about my trade was strong enough to provide an excuse for an excursion. I offered to take her out on a necessary but non-urgent trip to examine a couple of sites on behalf of the Bury St Edmunds amateur archaeology group. It was unpaid, so I’d been putting it off, and they were probably despairing of their chances of ever getting on Time Team.
I’d never got around to redecorating; I’d always felt I was camping out in that house. So I led Alison out to my shed, to give her an idea of my own taste. Alison’s eyes widened with pleasure when she saw my woodworking tools arrayed along one wall, and the chessboard hanging among them. “Joe, that’s marvellous,” she said. ” I nodded. The pieces were tucked away in a box, and I hesitated to bring them out. Instead I switched on the light boxes, to show off the bottles gleaming in their many hues around the other two walls.
What we probably have here is an older burial, could be Bronze Age, there may be pottery goods. ” “Ah, bones now, that’s a moot point. ” I considered this, looking at my hands. “It’s different. But there will be a dominant one, usually the metal if there’s any there; that’ll be the one I sense, and anything less definite like glass will be like a whiff of another scent that you can’t quite place. ” We moved on to another nearby site, on the same hilltop but in another field. I knew from the definite twitch of the rods that there was more than just disturbed earth below the flat surface.