Dear Librarians,
When I think of libraries, a flipbook of memories flashes through my mind. My local – the one I grew up with – is Watsonia Library in the north-east of Melbourne, Australia. It’s a low white building plonked right beside a busy train line and directly underneath two enormous transmission towers. Not exactly a dreamy location, but for many years it was my favourite place in the world.
I see myself running my fingers across the spines of books published decades before I was born; curling up on the squashy old couch that’s since been replaced with chic armchairs; using the self-checkout for the first time and marvelling at how the machine knew what I was getting; and hunched over a table studying for final exams, relishing the peace of the strictly policed Silent Area.
The newest pages in that flipbook have similarly fond memories; taking my young nephews to library events – storytelling, singalongs, and puppet shows – and watching them experience the same sense of wonder that I’ve always felt. It’s our responsibility to pass on that feeling to the next generation; a tradition respected by library lovers worldwide.
Responsibility and tradition are themes that form the foundation of The Wolf Tree, my debut crime novel. Set on a tiny, windswept island far off the west coast of Scotland, the story follows two mainland detectives who have been sent to investigate the mysterious death of a teenager – a member of an isolated, insulated community whose faith is built on both Catholic and ancient Celtic traditions. The evidence points to suicide, a deliberate plunge from the island’s decommissioned lighthouse; a landmark that has carried a sinister reputation for the past hundred years after its final three keepers vanished without a trace.
Our hero is DI Georgina ‘George’ Lennox, who is back to work after suffering a terrible injury (and hiding a few secrets of her own), and along with her partner DI Richard Stewart she infiltrates this secretive community of quirky characters – the chatty postmistress, the genial priest, the surly farmer, the champion fighter, and the fisherman and his lonely mainland wife – in order to discover the truth. But almost right away, George has some other pressing questions: Why can she hear a wolf howling every night? And, more importantly, why is she the only one who seems to be able to hear it?
I wrote The Wolf Tree for readers who love the twists and turns of a spooky, atmospheric crime story; if that’s you, then I really hope you have as fun a time reading it as I did writing it.
Warmly,
Laura McCluskey
