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Helen Slavin is the author of ten novels and comes originally from Manchester in the North West of England.
Her books are about family and community and the landscapes they live in and are always tinged with black humour and a hint of the fairytale. Her territory is the small town, the old library, ancient woodland scarred by chalk ridgeways, abandoned cottages and rickety bridges that cross wild water.
She lives with her family in Wiltshire where she spends her time toying with the fates of her characters and losing herself in mythology, fables and folklore.
I’m not a great dog lover. I mean, they’re a bit like horses, I like the idea of them, some are very beautiful and they are fine from a distance but I don’t really want one in the house. I don’t much care for the poop scooping. That applies as much to horses as dogs, […]
I’m not a petrolhead, let’s make that clear. The most stupid thing I’ve seen this week is someone driving into Ikea Bristol in a Lamborghini. Whatever they purchased would have to be packaged like origami to get it into the tiny boot. Or perhaps they were going to strap a wardrobe to the roof. Either […]
