'Nothing's been the same for Beth Teller since she died. Her dad, a detective, is the only one who can see and hear her—and he's drowning in grief. But now they have a mystery to solve together. As it unravels, Beth finds a shocking story lurking beneath the surface of a small town, and a friendship that lasts beyond one life and into another. Told in two unforgettable voices, this gripping novel weaves together themes of grief, colonial history, violence, love and family.'
Source: Publisher's blurb.
Teachers' notes from publisher's website.
'As some recently published works have shown, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander storytellers are continuing to embrace fiction-writing as a vessel for speaking truth to power. Constantly branching out into new genres—experimenting, fusing, transforming—there’s a noticeable increase in First Peoples speculative fiction being published in Australia.
With each line across the page, the colonial grip on the continent loosens. Fingers unclasp, story by story. Not all of these stories are from deep time—some are reimagined or even newly born—but they all carry power. Story-trails weave across paper and screen towards a common destination: truth-telling.' (Introduction)
'Are we entering a growth period for international rights sales of Indigenous-authored books for young people? Sarah Farquharson reports.'
'Ambelin Kwaymullina and Ezekiel Kwaymullina are a sister-and-brother team of Aboriginal writers who come from the Palyku people of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. Catching Teller Crow isn’t their first collaborative effort, but it is their first young-adult novel. A fusion of ghost story and crime thriller, it also combines poetry and fiction to striking and exciting effect.' (Introduction)
'As some recently published works have shown, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander storytellers are continuing to embrace fiction-writing as a vessel for speaking truth to power. Constantly branching out into new genres—experimenting, fusing, transforming—there’s a noticeable increase in First Peoples speculative fiction being published in Australia.
With each line across the page, the colonial grip on the continent loosens. Fingers unclasp, story by story. Not all of these stories are from deep time—some are reimagined or even newly born—but they all carry power. Story-trails weave across paper and screen towards a common destination: truth-telling.' (Introduction)
'Are we entering a growth period for international rights sales of Indigenous-authored books for young people? Sarah Farquharson reports.'
