Beautifully written and deeply compassionate, Rough Music is a novel of one family at two defining points in time. Seamlessly alternating between the present day and a summer thirty years past, its twin stories unfold at a cottage along the eastern coast of England. Will Pagett receives an unexpected gift on his fortieth birthday, two weeks at a perfect beach house in Cornwall. Seeking some distance from the married man with whom he's having an affair, he invites his aging mother and father to share his holiday, knowing the sun and sea will be a welcome change for. But the cottage and the stretch of sand before it seem somehow familiar and memories of a summer long ago begin to surface. Thirty-two years earlier. A young married couple and their eight year-old son begin two idyllic weeks at a beach house in Cornwall. But the sudden arrival of unknown American relatives has devastating consequences, turning what was to be a moment of reconciliation into an act of betrayal that will cast a lengthy shadow. As Patrick Gale masterfully unspools these parallel stories, we see their subtle and surprising reflections in each other and discover how the forgotten dramas of childhood are reenacted throughout our lives. Deftly navigating the terrain between humor and tragedy, Patrick Gale has written an unforgettable novel about the lies that adults tell and the small acts of treason that children can commit. Rough Music gracefully illuminates the merciful tricks of memory and the courage with which we continue to assert our belief in love and happiness. For his fortieth birthday, Will Pagett is given a holiday at a cottage near the sea in Cornwall. When he decides to take his parents along (his mother is showing the early stages of Alzheimer's and thinks a vacation will do her good), they realize that they might be staying in the very house they have thought of as nearly having torn the family apart long ago. As the drama and suspense of the current trip escalate, the family painfully begins exploring what exactly had happened all those years ago, and this nearly tears it asunder, especially because history seems to be repeating itself. In the meanwhile, Will finally comes to explore his dreams, admit his weaknesses, and decide what he really wants out of life. The novel tells parallel stories by alternating chapters set in the past and in the present; each is a gripping tale, all the more so because the reader knows that one presupposes the other. Gale's rich prose captures nervous energy, impatience, and suspense remarkably well. Michael Spinella Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved written and deeply compassionate, Rough Music is a novel of one family at two defining points in time. Seamlessly alternating between the present day and a summer thirty years past, its twin stories unfold at a cottage along the eastern coast of England. Will Pagett receives an unexpected gift on his fortieth birthday, two weeks at a perfect beach house in Cornwall. Seeking some distance from the married man with whom he's having an affair, he invites his aging mother and father to share his holiday, knowing the sun and sea will be a welcome change for. But the cottage and the stretch of sand before it seem somehow familiar and memories of a summer long ago begin to surface. Thirty-two years earlier. A young married couple and their eight year-old son begin two idyllic weeks at a beach house in Cornwall. But the sudden arrival of unknown American relatives has devastating consequences, turning what was to be a moment of reconciliation into an act of betrayal that will cast a Patrick Gale was born in 1962 on the Isle of Wight. He is the author of nine novels, including Tree Surgery for Beginners, The Facts of Life, Little Bits of Baby, and Kansas in August, and a collection of stories, Dangerous Pleasures. He lives in north Cornwall, England. BLUE HOUSE “Actually I feel a bit of a fraud being here,” Will told her. “I’m basically a happy man. No. There’s no basically about it. I’m happy. I am a happy man.” “Good,” she said, crossing her legs and caressing an ankle as if to smooth out a crease she found there. “What makes you say that?” “That I’m happy?” She nodded. “Well.” He uncrossed his legs, sat back in the sofa and peered out of her study window. He saw the waters of the Bross glittering at the edge of Boniface Gardens, two walkers pausing, briefly allied by the gamboling of their dogs. “I imagine you usually see people at their wit’s end. People with depression or insoluble problems.” “Occasionally. Some people come to me merely because they’ve lost their way.” He detected a certain sacerdotal smugness in her tone and suspected he hated her. “Well I’m here because a friend bought me a handful of sessions for my birthday. She thinks I need them.” “Do you mind?” He shrugged, laughed. “Makes a change from socks and book tokens.” “But you don’t feel you need to be here.” “I . . . I know it so