By Kim Fay
2013 Edgar Award Finalist for most sensible First Novel by means of an American Author
Praise for The Map of misplaced Memories
"In The Map of misplaced thoughts, Kim Fay attracts us right into a universe as unique, excessive, and traditionally exact because the historic artifacts her unforgettable heroine seeks. it is a deliciously unforeseen trip: Indiana Jones meets Somerset Maugham meets Marguerite Duras."--Jennifer Cody Epstein, writer of The Painter from Shanghai
"A exciting mixture of experience and private discovery . . . [Kim] Fay crafts an difficult page-turner that may retain readers breathless and guessing."--Publishers Weekly
"A ripping reliable story . . . mysterious Asian destinations . . . a pushed younger American heroine . . . an period not remembered yet light to romantic mind's eye . . . The Map of misplaced Memories pulls the parts jointly in a narrative that intrigues and rewards."--Lincoln magazine Star
"Fay's amazing novel has every little thing nice historical-adventure fiction should--a strikingly unique atmosphere, exhilarating plot twists, and a near-impossible quest."--Booklist (starred review)
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Additional resources for The Map of Lost Memories: A Novel
He used to be no longer a bum. He used to be a mandarin, donning a padded gown of Qing silk, patterned with waves of gold thread. She stated, “You’re no longer doing an outstanding task. He hasn’t even been shaved this present day. Are you a nurse? ” Clothilde looked to be in her overdue twenties, as regards to Irene’s age. She wore an easy yet pricey shirt and trousers, and at the ring finger of her correct hand, a massive emerald that may now not be missed. She smiled a spare, well mannered smile. “He can let you know all approximately me the next day, after he’s had an opportunity to relaxation. ” Irene couldn't admit to this stranger how afraid she was once that Mr. Simms could die within the evening. How apprehensive she used to be approximately every little thing she would possibly not have the opportunity to grasp. “I wish you to inform me all approximately you straight away. ” Clothilde bobbed her chin towards the top of the mattress. It was once in simple terms then that Irene spotted Simone at the ground, mendacity on a sheet, flat on her again. wearing a protracted white nightgown, along with her eyes closed and her hands at her facets, she seemed as though she have been specified by a funeral parlor for viewing. not able to photograph Simone hiking day after exhausting day throughout the jungle, Irene felt weary from the weight the opposite lady had develop into. “How lengthy has she been the following? ” Irene requested. “About an hour. ” “Did she communicate to him? ” “No. She passed me her pipe and lay down. ” Irene watched the slow upward push and fall of Simone’s rib cage, hearing the moan in her respiring. “She’s an addict. ” “I be aware of. i used to be one too, earlier than Henry kept me. ” Clothilde’s affection for Mr. Simms stung Irene. Coolly, she acknowledged, “She’s subconscious, or even if she isn’t, I doubt she’ll take note a specific thing you are saying. ” “I don’t imagine it’s my place—” Clothilde excited by the tray and dipped the needle into the opium paste, scooping out a gentle brown capsule. Then, for a few cause, she replaced her brain and commenced to speak. “My daughter has tuberculosis. It’s a pricey affliction, if she’s to be saved cozy, and particularly if she’s to be saved alive. i might visit bars to … good, I’m definite I don’t need to clarify. Six years in the past i used to be in a bar in Phnom Penh, and that i met Henry. We turned shut, and while he realized approximately my lady, he despatched us to California. He paid for her to reside in a clinic there, the most effective, and he may come all the way down to see us every time he might. In that method, we've been with each other ever given that. ” one other mystery global of Mr. Simms. “Do you recognize why he’s right here? ” Clothilde held the sticky bead over the flame and watched it simmer. “I’m from Kha Seng. ” This was once the village written approximately in Reverend Garland’s diary. Irene glanced at Simone, yet she was once nonetheless comatose. “And the temple? ” The query tumbled out sooner than Irene had an opportunity to assemble her techniques. “I used to wish there on holy days while i used to be a lady. ” Irene spoke throughout the thickening in her throat. “Then it does exist. ” “Yes,” Clothilde stated, giving no indication even if she knew how a lot this intended to Irene. slightly capable of take up what she used to be being advised, Irene stored her eyes on Clothilde’s hand. One moment of inattention and the opium might burn, yet Clothilde held the needle’s tip immobile over the flame.