The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge – Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway

Frances Hardinge is a Smuggler Favourite and we await anxiously for every single new release. The Lie Tree is her upcoming novel (publishing on May 7 2015) and we couldn’t be happier to be hosting this exclusive excerpt and giveaway opp.


The Lie Tree

Plagued by an unspoken scandal, fourteen-year-old Faith Sunderly and her family are forced to flee their home in Kent to start a new life. But news travels fast, and the gossip they’re running from soon reaches the small island community of Vane, to devastating effect. When Faith’s father is found dead under mysterious circumstances, she is determined to untangle the truth from the lies. Patriarchal Victorian society may not listen to a girl’s questions, but Faith has other plans. Following the trail left behind in her father’s books, and their secret father-daughter night-time boat ride, Faith discovers her father’s biggest secret . . .

A tree that feeds off whispered lies and bears fruit that reveals hidden secrets. The bigger the lie, and the more people who believe it, the bigger the truth that is uncovered. But as Faith’s untruths spread like wildfire across the island, she discovers that sometimes a single lie is more potent than any truth.



Frances Hardinge spent a large part of her childhood in a huge old house that inspired her to write stories from an early age. She read English at Oxford University, then got a job at a software company. However, a few years later a persistent friend finally managed to bully Frances into sending a few chapters of FLY BY NIGHT, her first children’s novel, to a publisher. Macmillan made her an immediate offer. The book went on to publish to huge critical acclaim and win the Branford Boase First Novel Award. THE LIE TREE is Frances’ seventh novel.



Chapter 1


The boat moved with a nauseous, relentless rhythm, like someone chewing on a rotten tooth. The islands just visible through the mist also looked like teeth, Faith decided. Not fine, clean Dover teeth, but jaded, broken teeth, jutting crookedly amid the wash of the choppy grey sea. The mailboat chugged its dogged way through the waves, greasing the sky with smoke.

‘Osprey,’ said Faith through chattering teeth, and pointed.

Her six-year-old brother Howard twisted round, too slow to see the great bird, as its pale body and dark-fringed wings vanished into the mist. Faith winced as he shifted his weight on her lap. At least he had stopped demanding his nursemaid.

‘Is that where we are going?’ Howard squinted at the ghostly islands ahead.

‘Yes, How.’ Rain thudded against the thin wooden roof above their heads. The cold wind blew in from the deck, stinging Faith’s face.

In spite of the noise around her, Faith was sure that she could hear faint sounds coming from the crate on which she sat. Rasps of movement, breathy slithers of scale on scale. It pained Faith to think of her father’s little Chinese snake inside, weak with the cold, coiling and uncoiling itself in panic with every tilt of the deck.

Behind her, raised voices competed with the keening of the gulls and the phud-phud-phud of the boat’s great paddles. Now that the rain was setting in, everybody on board was squabbling over the small sheltered area towards the stern. There was room for the passengers, but not for all of the trunks. Faith’s mother Myrtle was doing her best to claim a large share for her family’s luggage, with considerable success.

Sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder, Faith saw Myrtle waving her arms like a conductor while two deckhands moved the Sunderly trunks and crates into place. Today Myrtle was waxen with tiredness and shrouded to the chin with shawls, but as usual she talked through and over everybody else, warm, bland and unabashed, with a pretty woman’s faith in others’ helpless chivalry.

‘Thank you, there, right there – well, I am heartily sorry to hear that, but it cannot be helped – on its side, if you do not mind – well, your case looks very durable to me – I am afraid my husband’s papers and projects will not endure the weather so – the Reverend Erasmus Sunderly, the renowned naturalist – how very kind! I am so glad that you do not mind . . .’

Beyond her, round-faced Uncle Miles was napping in his seat, blithely and easily as a puppy on a rug. Faith’s gaze slipped past him, to the tall, silent figure beyond. Faith’s father in his black priestly coat, his broad-brimmed hat overshadowing his high brow and hooked nose.

He always filled Faith with awe. Even now he stared out towards the grey horizons with his unyielding basilisk stare, distancing himself from the chilly downpour, the reek of bilge and coal-smoke and the ignominious arguing and jostling. Most weeks she saw more of him in the pulpit than she did in the house, so it was peculiar to look across and see him sitting there. Today she felt a prickle of pained sympathy. He was out of his element, a lion in a rain-lashed sideshow.

On Myrtle’s orders, Faith was sitting on the family’s largest crate, to stop anybody dragging it out again. Usually she managed to fade into the background, since nobody had attention to spare for a fourteen-year-old girl with wooden features and a mud-brown plait. Now she winced under resentful glares, seared by all the embarrassment that Myrtle never felt.

Myrtle’s petite figure was positioned to impede anybody else trying to insert their own luggage under cover. A tall, broad man with a knuckly nose seemed about to push past her with his trunk, but she cut him short by turning to smile.

Myrtle blinked twice, and her big, blue eyes widened, taking on an earnest shine as if she had only just noticed the person before her with clarity. Despite her pink-nipped nose and weary pallor, her smile still managed to be sweet and confiding.

‘Thank you for being so understanding,’ she said. There was the tiniest, tired break in her voice.

It was one of Myrtle’s tricks for handling men, a little coquetry she summoned as easily and reflexively as opening her fan. Every time it worked, Faith’s stomach twisted. It worked now. The gentleman flushed, gave a curt bow and withdrew, but Faith could see he was still carrying his resentment with him. In fact, Faith suspected that her family had antagonized nearly everybody on the boat.

Howard shyly adored their mother, and when she was younger Faith had seen her in the same honeyed light. Myrtle’s rare visits to the nursery had been almost unbearably exciting, and Faith had even loved the ritual of being groomed, dressed and fussed over to make her presentable for each encounter. Myrtle had seemed like a being from another world, warm, merry, beautiful and untouchable, a sun-nymph with a keen sense of fashion.

However, over the last year Myrtle had decided to start ‘taking Faith in hand’, which appeared to involve interrupting Faith’s lessons without warning, and dragging her away on impulse for visits or trips to town, before abandoning her to the nursery and schoolroom once more. Over this year, familiarity had done its usual work, picking off the gilded paint one scratch at a time. Faith had started to feel like a rag doll, snatched up and cast down according the whims of an impatient child with an uncertain temper.

Right now the crowds were receding. Myrtle settled herself down on a stack of three trunks next to Faith’s crate, with an air of deep self-satisfaction.

‘I do hope the place that Mr Lambent has arranged for us has a decent drawing room,’ she remarked, ‘and that the servants will do. The cook simply cannot be French. I can scarcely run a household if my cook can choose to misunderstand me whenever she pleases . . .’

Myrtle’s voice was not unpleasant, but it trickled on, and on, and on. For the last day her chatter had been the family’s constant companion, as she shared it with the hackney-carriage driver who had taken them to the station, the guards who had stowed the family’s luggage in the trains to London and then Poole, the surly custodian of the chilly inn where they had spent the night, and the captain of this smoky mailboat.

Why are we going there?’ interrupted Howard. His eyes were glassy with tiredness. He was at the fork. Ahead lay either compulsive napping or helpless tantrums.

‘You know that, darling.’ Myrtle leaned across to stroke wet hair out of Howard’s eyes with a careful, gloved finger. ‘There are some very important caves on that island over there, where gentlemen have been discovering dozens of clever fossils. Nobody knows more about fossils than your father, so they asked him to come and look at them.’

‘But why did we come?’ Howard persisted. ‘He did not take us to China. Or India. Or Africa. Or Mongia.’ The last was his best attempt at Mongolia.

‘’It was a good question, and one that a lot of people were probably asking. Yesterday a flurry of cards carrying excuses and last-minute cancellations would have turned up in households all over the Sunderlys’ home parish like apologetic, rectangular snowflakes. By today, word of the family’s unscheduled departure would be spreading like wildfire.

In truth, Faith herself would have liked to know the answer to Howard’s question.

‘Oh, we could never have gone to those places!’ Myrtle declared vaguely. ‘Snakes, and fevers, and people who eat dogs. This is different. It will be a little holiday.’

‘Did we have to go because of the Beetle Man?’ asked Howard, screwing up his face in concentration.

The Reverend, who had shown no sign of listening to the conversation, suddenly drew in his breath through his nose and let it out in a disapproving hiss. He rose to his feet.

‘The rain is easing, and this saloon is too crowded,’ he declared, and strode out on to the deck.

Myrtle winced and looked over at Uncle Miles, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

‘Perhaps I should, ah, take a little constitutional as well.’ Uncle Miles glanced at his sister with a small, wry lift of the eyebrows. He smoothed down his moustache at the corners of his smile, then followed his brother-in-law out of the saloon.

‘Where did Father go?’ asked Howard in piercing tones, craning his neck round to peer out towards the deck. ‘Can I go too? Can I have my gun?’

Myrtle closed her eyes briefly and let her lips flutter in what looked like a small, exasperated prayer for patience. She opened her eyes again, and smiled at Faith.

‘Oh, Faith, what a rock you are.’ It was the smile she always gave Faith, fond but with a hint of weary acceptance. ‘You may not be the liveliest company . . . but at least you never ask questions.’

Faith managed a flat, chilled smile. She knew who Howard meant by ‘the Beetle Man’, and suspected that his question had been dangerously close to the mark.

For the last month the family had been living in a frozen fog of the unsaid. Looks, whispers, subtle changes in manner and gently withdrawn contact. Faith had noticed the alteration, but had been unable to guess the reason for it.

And then, one Sunday while the family were walking back from church, a man in a brown homburg hat had approached to introduce himself, with much bobbing and bowing and a smile that never reached his eyes. He had written a paper on beetles, and would the respected Reverend Erasmus Sunderly consider writing a foreword? The respected Reverend would not consider it, and became ever more coldly irate at the visitor’s persistence. The stranger was ‘scraping an acquaintance’ in breach of all good manners, and at last the Reverend flatly told him so.

The beetle enthusiast’s smile had drooped into something less pleasant. Faith still remembered the quiet venom of his reply.

‘Forgive me for imagining that your civility would be the equal of your intellect. The way rumour is spreading, Reverend, I would have thought that you would be glad to find a fellow man of science who is still willing to shake you by the hand.’

Remembering those words, Faith’s blood ran cold again. She had never dreamed that she would see her father insulted to his face. Worse still, the Reverend had turned away from the stranger in furious silence, without demanding an explanation. The chill haze of Faith’s suspicions began to crystallize. There were rumours abroad, and her father knew what they were, even if she did not.

Myrtle was wrong. Faith was full of questions, coiling and writhing like the snake in the crate.

Oh, but I cannot. I must not give way to that.

In Faith’s mind, it was always that. She never gave it another name, for fear of yielding it yet more power over her. That was an addiction, she knew that much. That was something she was always giving up, except that she never did. That was the very opposite of Faith as the world knew her. Faith the good girl, the rock. Reliable, dull, trustworthy Faith.

It was the unexpected opportunities that she found hardest to resist. An unattended envelope with the letter peeping out, clean and tantalizing. An unlocked door. A careless conversation, unheeding of eavesdroppers.

There was a hunger in her, and girls were not supposed to be hungry. They were supposed to nibble sparingly when at table, and their minds were supposed to be satisfied with a slim diet too. A few stale lessons from tired governesses, dull walks, unthinking pastimes. But it was not enough. All knowledge – any knowledge – called to Faith, and there was a delicious, poisonous pleasure in stealing it unseen.

Right now, however, her curiosity had a focus and an urgent edge. At that very moment, her father and Uncle Miles might be talking about the Beetle Man, and the reasons for the family’s sudden exodus.

‘Mother . . . may I walk on the deck a little while? My stomach . . .’ Faith almost made herself believe her own words. Her insides were indeed churning, but with excitement, not the boat’s jarring lurches.

‘Very well – but do not answer anyone who talks to you. Take the umbrella, be careful not to fall overboard, and come back before you catch a chill.’

As Faith paced slowly alongside the rail, the faltering drizzle drumming on her umbrella, she admitted to herself that she was giving in to that again. Excitement pumped dark wine through her veins and sharpened all her senses to painful edges. She wandered slowly out of sight of Myrtle and Howard, then dawdled, acutely aware of each glance directed her way. One by one these gazes wearied of her and slid off once more.

Her moment came. Nobody was looking. She sidled quickly across the deck and lost herself among the crates that clustered at the base of the boat’s shuddering, discoloured funnel. The air tasted of salt and guilt, and she felt alive.

She slipped from one hiding place to another, keeping her skirts gathered close so that they did not flare in the wind and betray her location. Her broad, square feet, so clumsy when anybody tried to fit them for fashionable shoes, settled silently on the boards with practised deftness.

Between two crates she found a hiding place from which she could see her father and uncle a mere three yards away. Seeing her father without being seen felt like a special sacrilege.

‘To flee my own home!’ exclaimed the Reverend. ‘It smacks of cowardice, Miles. I should never have let you persuade me to leave Kent. And what good will our departure do? Rumours are like dogs. Flee from them and they give chase.’

‘Rumours are dogs indeed, Erasmus.’ Uncle Miles squinted through his pince-nez. ‘And they hunt in packs, and on sight. You needed to leave society for a while. Now that you are gone, they will find something else to chase.’

‘By creeping away under cover of darkness, Miles, I have fed these dogs. My departure will be used in evidence against me.’ ‘Perhaps it will, Erasmus,’ answered Uncle Miles with unusual seriousness, ‘but would you rather be judged here on a remote island by a couple of sheep farmers, or in England among persons of consequence? The Vane Island excavation was the best excuse I could find for your departure, and I remain glad that you chose to accept my arguments.

‘Yesterday morning that article in the Intelligencer was read out at breakfast tables all over the country. If you had stayed, you would have forced your entire circle to decide whether they would support or snub you, and the way rumour has been spreading you might not have liked the decisions they would have made.

‘Erasmus, one of the most widely read and respected newspapers in the nation has decried you as a fraud and a cheat. Unless you want to subject Myrtle and the children to all the barbs and trials of scandal, you cannot return to Kent. Until your name is clear, nothing good awaits any of you there.’



We have three galleys of The Lie Tree to giveaway. The giveaway is open to all and will run until Saturday February 28 11:59am EST. To enter, use the form below. GOOD LUCK.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

You Might Also Like


  • Paige
    February 17, 2015 at 5:42 am

    I’m hugely excited for a new Frances Hardinge, of course– but this excerpt is from Cuckoo Song, her last book, rather than a new one. (I don’t suppose you give ARCs to post proofreaders….? 🙂 )

  • Ana
    February 17, 2015 at 6:02 am

    Paige, if embarrassment could kill, I would BE DEAD by now. I am so sorry, there was a mix-up and I missed it. The correct excerpt is up now.

  • Liat
    February 17, 2015 at 6:17 am

    I read and loved A Face Like Glass and I just recently bought Well Witched. I also really want to read Cuckoo Song some time soon.

  • Paige
    February 17, 2015 at 6:43 am

    No worries, Ana — I’ve worked in a number of jobs that included proofreading duties, and made my share of mistakes. The only thing I learned is that you never get so good that you stop double-checking your work.

  • Cassandra Khaw
    February 17, 2015 at 6:56 am

    Eeeeeeeeee, I cannot wait to see the rest of this book.

  • RED
    February 17, 2015 at 7:46 am

    Frances Hardinge is perhaps my favourite living author right now. I really love her books. SUPER excited about this new one, which look So. Amazing.

  • RED
    February 17, 2015 at 7:49 am

    Shoot, forgot to answer the question, which was: Which is your favourite Hardinge novel?
    Man, hard question. Let’s see… definitely a toss up between “Twilight Robbery”, “A Face Like Glass”, and “Gullstruck Island”. Probably going to go with “A Face Like Glass”, but each of her books is uniquely excellent, which is why I like them so much.

  • Jon Richardson
    February 17, 2015 at 7:49 am

    Huge fan of Frances Hardinge and can’t wait to read this. Everyone who hasn’t should check out her short story ‘Hayfever’ in the Subterranean Press, a delightful read.

  • Kate Falzareno
    February 17, 2015 at 8:38 am

    I have a confession to make: I have yet to read a Frances Hardinge book. I’ve been stalking my library, but they don’t carry her, so I finally broke down and ordered “Cuckoo Song” the other day. Can’t WAIT!

  • Miss Bookiverse
    February 17, 2015 at 8:38 am

    Every book by this author sounds so stunning and original. Time to finally read one of her works. Thanks so much for the giveaway.

  • Cristina Alves
    February 17, 2015 at 8:44 am

    Already in my wishlist ! 🙂

  • Yuko
    February 17, 2015 at 9:00 am

    Unfortunately, I’ve never read a Frances Hardinge’s book 🙁 Here in Italy she’s not translated, so I’ve bought her Cuckoo song from Bookdepository but I still have to read it. The summaries of her books seem amazing!

  • Tina
    February 17, 2015 at 9:21 am

    The Cuckoo Song is my favorite thus far– but I must admit that it is the only one that I have read a this point 🙂

  • Angie Jackson
    February 17, 2015 at 9:24 am

    I have not read any book by Frances Hardinge. 🙁

  • Maureen E
    February 17, 2015 at 9:40 am

    I love all of Frances Hardinge’s books SO MUCH! This is extremely exciting. (I can’t wait for Cuckoo Song to be published in the US. I was impatient and got it from the UK and it’s so good.)

  • Mary Anne
    February 17, 2015 at 10:33 am

    So all her books are on my TBR list, but I’ve only read “Fly By Night” so far. I really liked it a lot, thus added her other books to the list.

    When you eat dinner, do you plow through the stuff you don’t really like so you save the best for last? I do. I do it with books too, unless it’s an author I have to read RIGHT NOW. (Bujold, Megan Whalen Turner, Patricia Briggs, Andrea Host to name a few.) I maybe need to change that habit – I find myself reading a lot of poor to mediocre stuff when I could be reveling in the good stuff. I think I’m afraid I’ll read all the good stuff and then only have junk to turn to. Anyway, Hardinge’s books are on my “Should be good” list…. as opposed to my “Seemed like a good idea at the time” list. (The second list is about three times longer than the first and totally unmanageable – I’ll never read ’em all. I have to stop adding to it.)

  • Ellie
    February 17, 2015 at 10:39 am

    So far, my favorite is Fly By Night!

  • whimsyful
    February 17, 2015 at 10:55 am

    Favorite Hardinge: such a hard pick, but probably a tie between A Face Like Glass and Gullstruck Island

  • Matthew
    February 17, 2015 at 11:11 am

    A Face Like Glass was absolutely amazing and I always try to get people to read it. 🙂

  • kaytaylorrea
    February 17, 2015 at 11:33 am

    My fave Frances Hardinge book is Fly by Night.

  • mely
    February 17, 2015 at 11:44 am

    Loved A Face Like Glass, can’t wait for this one!

  • Mindy King
    February 17, 2015 at 12:04 pm

    Man, such a tough decision. I think Gullstruck Island just edges out Cuckoo Song and Fly By Night, but I may have to read them all again just to make sure. 😉

  • Kassia
    February 17, 2015 at 12:34 pm

    I think it’s a tie between Fly By Night, Fly Trap, and A Face Like Glass as far as my favorite goes. They’re all so great.

  • Anita Yancey
    February 17, 2015 at 12:35 pm

    I don’t have a favorite because I haven’t read any of her books yet. But this one sounds really good. Thanks for having the giveaway.

  • Kassia
    February 17, 2015 at 12:36 pm

    I think my favorite is either Fly By Night, Fly Trap, or a Face Like Glass. I love all of her books, though.

  • Kayleigh D'Andilly
    February 17, 2015 at 12:59 pm

    I fell in love with the Cuckoo Song. The first half absolutely gave me chills, it was like a very dark fairy tale. And that end quote “perhaps I’ll just stay this age forever, like Peter Pan but with shaper teeth” perfect! I cant wait to read the lie tree after that <3

  • Aja
    February 17, 2015 at 1:05 pm

    ANA I’M SO EXCITED I’M QUIVERING! I just wrote about how much I love Frances Hardinge for LadyBusiness only yesterday and this is such karmic timing. I’m so happy that her acclaim is spreading and she’s able to churn out so many amazing books for us, and so happy that her American publishers are getting with the program and no longer replacing her striking titles with less striking titles or replacing her gorgeous and striking covers with non-gorgeous, non-striking covers. I can’t wait to read this! Frances Hardinge/Small Girls on Small Islands With Big Secrets is one of my OTPs at this point. 😀

  • Sabrina
    February 17, 2015 at 1:06 pm

    I just started reading A Face Like Glass a week ago, and holy cow am I in love. Frances Hardinge reminds me of Diana Wynne Jones in some ways (high praise from me, since DWJ is one of my all time favorite authors), but Hardinge has an amazing creativity all her own.

    So yeah, A Face Like Glass is my favorite so far, but I’m so excited I have the rest of her backlist to glom – with this bonus new book coming out soon!

  • Claire
    February 17, 2015 at 1:13 pm

    The Lost Conspiracy (Gullstruck Island) won me over forever and is still my favorite). I finally couldn’t stand waiting for the American pub of Cuckoo Song anymore and bought it online…here’s hoping the American pub of this new one doesn’t take as long!

  • Lan
    February 17, 2015 at 2:03 pm

    I love all of Frances Hardinge’s books! But my favorite is a toss-up between ‘A Face Like Glass’ and ‘Gullstruck Island’.

  • Vanessa LaWare
    February 17, 2015 at 2:17 pm

    I loved loved loved, A Face Like Glass.

  • Brandy
    February 17, 2015 at 3:30 pm

    I am so excited!!! I wish Hardinge got more of the credit she deserved for her brilliance. A Face Like Glass is her favorite novel of mine, and it hasn’t even been printed in the US yet. Of course, I still haven’t read Cuckoo Song because its US release was announced before I bought a UK copy and I decided to wait so I could encourage the US publishers to print ALL her books. 🙂

  • Lexi
    February 17, 2015 at 5:05 pm

    I really liked Fly by Night, though to be fair it is the only one that I have read so far.

  • Ben
    February 17, 2015 at 6:06 pm

    A Face Like Glass is one of my all time favorites. So glad I stumbled across the review on here a couple years ago . Thank y’all for introducing me to a wonderful author.

  • K. H.
    February 17, 2015 at 10:52 pm

    Ooooh…I wantssss thissss…..

    (And, Cuckoo Song!)

  • Katrina
    February 17, 2015 at 11:14 pm

    I am ashamed to admit that I’ve never read one of her novels. That will, however, change very soon! The excerpt was excellent.

  • Anna
    February 17, 2015 at 11:23 pm

    My favorite Frances Hardinge book is ALL OF THEM. ALL THE BOOKS. 😀

    Can’t wait to read this!


  • Nancy
    February 17, 2015 at 11:25 pm

    Argggh so hard to pick a favourite Frances Hardinge but Fly by Night was my intro to her work so I’ll always have a soft spot for it.

  • debbie johnson
    February 18, 2015 at 4:52 am

    I haven’t had the pleasure of reading any of your books yet, but I can’t wait to read this one.

  • debbie johnson
    February 18, 2015 at 4:55 am

    I haven’t had the pleasure of reading any of your books yet but I am looking forward to reading this one.

  • Amanda Lee
    February 18, 2015 at 2:24 pm

    As terrible as this sounds, I haven’t read any of her books yet- I can’t wait to dive in!

  • Cassan
    February 18, 2015 at 7:13 pm

    The Lost Conspiracy/Gullstruck Island is sooo beautiful! Can’t wait for more Hardinge!

  • Alexandra the Great
    February 18, 2015 at 8:27 pm

    Somehow, I haven’t read anything by Frances Hardinge yet, but I aim to change that SOON.

  • Mary Preston
    February 19, 2015 at 2:06 am

    No favorite yet.

  • Andrea
    February 19, 2015 at 8:42 am

    I think my favorite may be Twilight Robbery (I <3 Mosca) but it's so hard to decide, they're all so fantastic!

  • Ellen Fremedon
    February 19, 2015 at 9:22 am

    The Lost Conspiracy/Gullstruck Island put her on the ‘read EVERYTHING she writes in perpetuity’ list, but I suspect that on rereading A Face Like Glass may become my favorite. And I haven’t read Cuckoo Song yet; I need to get on that.

  • Cindy
    February 19, 2015 at 1:51 pm

    I have not yet had the pleasure of reading a book by Frances Hardinge, but after reading that excerpt from The Lie Tree, I’ve been hooked and I want to read the rest!

  • Nicole
    February 19, 2015 at 5:22 pm

    Waiting anxiously for The Lie Tree!
    Found it online a few days ago and I just read the excerpt – her writing never ceases to amaze me.

    I’d say my favourite is between ‘Gullstruck Island’, ‘A Face Like Glass’ and ‘Cuckoo Song’, although really there are aspects I love about each book: the world-building of ‘Gullstruck Island’, the mystery of ‘Cuckoo Song’, the Kleptomancer in ‘A Face Like Glass’…
    So I can’t really decide. Quite excited for another eerie Hardinge novel, can’t wait for May!

  • Links from around the web: 2-20-15 | By Singing Light
    February 20, 2015 at 7:03 am

    […] (I was already pretty excited.) And then The Book Smugglers also featured the cover and excerpt for Frances Hardinge’s upcoming The Lie Tree, and I died of […]

  • Anonymous
    February 20, 2015 at 11:04 am

    A face like glass is my fav one! 🙂

  • Danielle
    February 21, 2015 at 7:40 am

    I’m really looking forward to reading The Lie Tree for my first Frances Hardinge book, it looks amazing!

  • Isabel
    February 21, 2015 at 11:47 am

    For some unknown reason, I kept totally putting off reading any of the Frances Hardinge books– until I was in the Beijing airport, flying back from Japan, bored out of my mind. I downloaded all of her books and spent the next 17 hours just reading her novels. I didn’t even sleep– just read her books! I’ve loved them all– the wonderfully coexisting eeriness (even creepiness, honestly) and sweetness of Cuckoo Song, the creativity, intricate worldbuilding, and slowly developing adventure of A Face Like Glass. But my favorite has to be Gullstruck Island– something about that book just resonated completely with me. I can’t wait to read this book whenever I can get my hands on it!

  • Dakota
    February 21, 2015 at 5:07 pm

    Fly Trap is my favorite, then The Lost Conspiracy and Cuckoo Song.

  • Misty
    February 22, 2015 at 11:52 pm

    Fly By Night. It was my first book of hers that I read and I really think that’s why it’s my favorite. I wasn’t expecting anything as fabulous as what was awaiting me. There were so many descriptions and turns of phrases that were so unique and delightful that it took me forever to finish it because I went over entire passages again and again.

  • Jen
    February 23, 2015 at 11:31 am

    I am so happy I learned about Frances Hardinge through the book smugglers. Her books are amazing. So far I’ve read Cukoo Song and A Face Like Glass and I loved them both and have been telling everyone I know to read them. I can’t choose a favorite. They’re both just phenomenal. Looking forward to reading the rest of her books, including the Lie Tree!!

  • Kaethe
    February 23, 2015 at 4:36 pm

    I can’t pick one, because I love them all. Except this one and Cuckoo Song, which I haven’t yet read. Hardinge is among the best.

  • Kaethe
    February 23, 2015 at 4:42 pm

  • Fantasy Friday! Book Review: The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge | Cover2CoverMom
    May 6, 2016 at 1:08 pm

    […] Amazon // Goodreads // Excerpt […]

  • Emma
    November 26, 2016 at 11:24 am

    …This is from so long ago now, but I just wanted to say I enjoyed reading your comment immensely because it was EXACTLY the answer I would have given – those are my top three, and “A Face Like Glass” usually wins out when I’m really pushed for an answer. Frances Hardinge is absolutely brilliant.

Leave a Reply