Afterword
When I was ten or eleven, I found a book in the tiny YA section of my local library called The China Garden. I can't remember why I picked it up—it definitely wasn't the cover—but I do remember that I read it two or three times on its first checkout. And then I checked it out again. And again. And again, until I convinced my mom to buy me a copy at Barnes and Noble for me to love on forever.
What I loved about The China Garden was how it swirled things together into a unique and seamless whole: the gothic settings of a cloistered village and an old manor house, some hints of ancient Celtic rituals, sulky boys with motorcycles...
What I also loved is how the book made me feel. (Which was, as my friend Jean says, 'creeped out and comforted all at the same time.') I imprint
