[STARRED REVIEW] “Readers will find themselves delighted, intrigued, and often moved by the love, pain, and wonder of these finely written drabbles...thoroughly extraordinary.”
—Kirkus

The internationally bestselling author of Griffin & Sabine returns with his newest literary mystery—a charming assemblage of his own illustrated stories. Each of the invitingly strange tales is paired with its own glyphic creature (perhaps created by Sabine herself).

Little is known of the fascinating manuscript that Nick Bantock has come to possess. It was discovered in an attic in North London, stuffed into a battered cardboard box, and unceremoniously delivered directly to Nick’s doorstep. Inside the package lay one hundred evocatively absurd stories, one hundred humorous drawings of strangely familiar, quirkish glyphs, plus a cryptically poetic note signed only as “HH.” (Possibly the well-known, eccentric billionaire, Hamilton Hasp?)

In these stories-each consisting of precisely 100 words-strange creatures slip through alleyways, and eerie streets swallow people whole. Taken altogether, they may constitute a puzzle that no one has been able to solve thus far. Could there even be one missing story?

For those perceptive readers with a curious mind, the celebrated author of Griffin & Sabine cordially invites you to find your own path through his beguiling conundrum of drabbles—or even to contribute one of your very own.

Nick Bantock's profile page

Nick Bantock has authored thirty books, including the internationally bestselling Griffin and Sabine series. His works have been translated into thirteen languages. and over five million copies have been sold worldwide. Bantock has worked in a betting shop in the East End of London; trained as a psychotherapist; and designed a house that combined an Indonesian temple, an English cricket pavilion and a New Orleans bordello. He was also one of the twelve committee members responsible for selecting Canada’s postage stamps. Among the things Bantock can’t do: he can’t swim; has never ridden a horse; his spelling is dreadful; and his singing voice is flat as a pancake.