Honor Jones

3 weeks ago | kansascity.com | Honor Jones

Honor Jones' debut novel, "Sleep," opens with 10-year-old Margaret hiding under a blackberry bush during a neighborhood game of flashlight tag. We've all been there: crouched in suspense under the low branches, smelling the dirt and the night air, watching the legs of our friends dart past, everything cozy, wild, exciting. But Margaret's early years are not wholly idyllic. Something hangs over them, shadowing her current life as a 36-year-old, divorced mother of two.

3 weeks ago | charlotteobserver.com | Honor Jones

Honor Jones' debut novel, "Sleep," opens with 10-year-old Margaret hiding under a blackberry bush during a neighborhood game of flashlight tag. We've all been there: crouched in suspense under the low branches, smelling the dirt and the night air, watching the legs of our friends dart past, everything cozy, wild, exciting. But Margaret's early years are not wholly idyllic. Something hangs over them, shadowing her current life as a 36-year-old, divorced mother of two.

4 weeks ago | shelf-awareness.com | Honor Jones |Domenica Ruta |Ocean Vuong |Garrett Carr

Sometimes I fantasize about getting away from it all. Grow a beard, don floral prints, and become a bartender in some hidden dive with a thatched roof and lounge music. And yet, Fever Beach is the first Carl Hiaasen novel I've ever read. Did I realize that he writes hilarious and engrossing crime novels about wacky Floridians and the state's breathtaking wildlife?

1 month ago | nytimes.com | Honor Jones

"Sleep," the debut novel by Honor Jones, moves back and forth in time between a 35-year-old mother's present and her disturbing, unresolved past. When you purchase an independently reviewed book through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.

1 month ago | theatlantic.com | Honor Jones

It was damp down under the blackberry bush, but Margaret liked it there; she was cozy, like a rabbit. It smelled clean—it was funny how dirt could smell so clean. She couldn’t see in the dark which berries were ripe, but she nibbled on one anyway, puckered, spat. She rested her cheek against her arm and looked across the yard. A whoop and a stampede—the boys were running by. They must have spotted Biddy. The bright spot of the flashlight whirled. It made her dizzy trying to follow it.