Where the Crawdads Sing

1.

Ma

1952

The morning burned so August-hot, the marsh's moist breath hung the oaks and pines with fog. The palmetto patches stood unusually quiet except for the low, slow flap of the heron's wings lifting from the lagoon. And then, Kya, only six at the time, heard the screen door slap. Standing on the stool, she stopped scrubbing grits from the pot and lowered it into the basin of worn-out suds. No sounds now but her own breathing. Who had left the shack? Not Ma. She never let the door slam.

But when Kya ran to the porch, she saw her mother in a long brown skirt, kick pleats nipping at her ankles, as she walked down the sandy lane in high heels. The stubby-nosed shoes were fake alligator skin. Her only going-out pair. Kya wanted to holler out but knew not to rouse Pa, so opened the door and stood on the brick-'n'-board steps. From there she saw the blue train case Ma carried. Usually, with the confidence of a pup, Kya knew her mother would return with meat wrapped in greasy brown paper or with a chicken, head dangling down. But she never wore the gator heels, never took a case.

Ma always looked back where the foot lane met the road, one arm held high, white palm waving, as she turned onto the track, which wove through bog forests, cattail lagoons, and maybe-if the tide obliged-eventually into town. But today she walked on, unsteady in the ruts. Her tall figure emerged now and then through the holes of the forest until only swatches of white scarf flashed between the leaves. Kya sprinted to the spot she knew would bare the road; surely Ma would wave from there, but she arrived only in time to glimpse the blue case-the color so wrong for the woods-as it disappeared. A heaviness, thick as black-cotton mud, pushed her chest as she returned to the steps to wait.

Kya was the youngest of five, the others much older, though later she couldn't recall their ages. They lived with Ma and Pa, squeezed together like penned rabbits, in the rough-cut shack, its

Delia Owens

A painfully beautiful first novel that is at once a murder mystery, a coming-of-age narrative and a celebration of nature....Owens here surveys the desolate marshlands of the North Carolina coast through the eyes of an abandoned child. And in her isolation that child makes us open our own eyes to the secret wonders and dangers of her private world. The New York Times Book Review

Steeped in the rhythms and shadows of the coastal marshes of North Carolina s Outer Banks, this fierce and hauntingly beautiful novel centers on...Kya s heartbreaking story of learning to trust human connections, intertwine[d] with a gripping murder mystery, revealing savage truths. An astonishing debut. People

This lush mystery is perfect for fans of Barbara Kingsolver. Bustle

A lush debut novel, Owens delivers her mystery wrapped in gorgeous, lyrical prose. It s clear she s from this place the land of the southern coasts, but also the emotional terrain you can feel it in the pages.  A magnificent achievement, ambitious, credible and very timely. Alexandra Fuller, New York Times bestselling author of Don t Let s Go to the Dogs Tonight

Heart-wrenching...A fresh exploration of isolation and nature from a female perspective along with a compelling love story. Entertainment Weekly

This wonderful novel has a bit of everything mystery, romance, and fascinating characters, all told in a story that takes place in North Carolina. Nicholas Sparks, New York Times bestselling author of Every Breath

Delia Owen s gorgeous novel is both a coming-of-age tale and an engrossing whodunit. Real Simple

Evocative...Kya makes for an unforgettable heroine. Publishers Weekly

The New Southern novel...A lyrical debut. Southern Living

A nature-infused romance with a killer twist. Refinery29

Anyone who liked The Great Alone will want to read Where the Crawdads Sing....This astonishing debut is a beautiful and haunting novel that packs a powerful punch. It s the first novel