Издания и произведения

После развода родителей Лиззи, ее старшая сестра, младший брат, лабрадор Дебби и пара пони вынуждены были перебраться из роскошного лондонского особняка в деревенский дом. Вокруг луга, просторы и красота, вот только соседи мрачно косятся, еду никто не готовит, стиральная машина объявила бунт, а мама без продыху пишет пьесу. Лиззи и ее сестра, обеспокоенные, что рано или поздно их определят в детский дом, а маму оставят наедине с ее пьесой, решают взять заботу о будущем в своем руки. И прежде всего, нужно определиться с "человеком у руля", а попросту с мужчиной в доме. В начале 1970-х мать-одиночку, пусть и из аристократического рода, в…

From the writer of the hugely acclaimed "Love, Nina" comes a sharply funny debut novel about a gloriously eccentric family. Soon after her parents' separation, nine-year-old Lizzie Vogel moves with her siblings and newly single mother to a tiny village in the English countryside, where the new neighbors are horrified by their unorthodox ways and fatherless household. Lizzie's theatrical mother only invites more gossip by spending her days drinking whiskey, popping pills, and writing plays. The one way to fit in, the children decide, will be to find themselves a new man at the helm. The first novel from a remarkably gifted writer…

Not long after her parents' separation, heralded by an awkward scene involving a wet Daily Telegraph and a pan of cold eggs, nine-year-old Lizzie Vogel, her sister and little brother and their now divorcee mother are packed off to a small, slightly hostile village in the English countryside. Their mother is all alone, only thirty-one years of age, with three young children and a Labrador. It is no wonder, when you put it like that, that she becomes a menace and a drunk. And a playwright.Worried about the bad playwriting - though more about becoming wards of court and being sent to the infamous Crescent Home for Children - Lizzie and her…

My sister and I and our little brother were born (in that order) into a very good situation and apart from the odd new thing life was humdrum and comfortable until an evening in 1970 when my mother listened in to my father's phone call and ended up blowing her nose on a tea towel - a thing she'd only have done in an absolute emergency.