Karen Sullivan, Publisher of Orenda Books
For anyone with optimum ability – physical, mental and otherwise – it’s difficult to imagine what it might be like when things we’ve always taken for granted are no longer there, to countenance a life without ease.
That was certainly the case for me. I – and then my children – rarely experienced anything other than mild illness, but then two things changed that.
When he was approaching two years old, my middle son experienced a serious brain infection as a rare side effect of the MMR vaccine. He was left profoundly deaf in his left ear, and that put us both on a steep learning curve. I was a young mother, completely out of my depth, and pretty much unable to grasp the implications let alone the mitigations that needed to be put in place – sitting at the front of the class with his ‘hearing ear’ facing the teacher; a red-flag alert when he swam competitively, because he couldn’t hear the whistle; a grudging acceptance that he wasn’t ignoring me when I spoke to him. He genuinely couldn’t hear me. Even still, there was so much we didn’t consider. When he was preparing for his first year at the University of Edinburgh, he had to ‘tick the disabled box’, something he was reluctant to do, something he had literally never done, and the services and products on offer filled me with guilt. They could, for example, provide a vibrating pillow that worked as an alarm. It honestly never once occurred to me that he wouldn’t be able to hear an alarm. Rightly or wrongly, we operated as usual and most of his friends – even close ones – were unaware that he was deaf.
But it got me thinking, which got us talking. Where’s the shame in admitting that you’re different? That your needs are different? As someone who has always encouraged my sons to be themselves, to be unafraid of being different, I was surprised and a little saddened that this particular difference was somehow embarrassing for him to admit. When he was applying for his first jobs as a trainee lawyer, he outright refused to ‘tick the disabled box’, and I didn’t really know what to think about that. He got a job; I doubt they know that one ear doesn’t work.
That’s an invisible disability, I guess. Like chronic illness or pain or emotional illnesses or anything else that makes us less or un able. And that’s where the second thing comes in. It’s no secret that I became seriously ill when I caught Covid in March of 2020, and it changed my life completely. I suffered not just from Long Covid, with overwhelming, crippling fatigue, brain fog and memory loss (to the extent that I had to surround myself with notebooks and write down everything, when previous to this, my entire business and home life was held there), arthritis in my fingers, and staggering digestive pain and headaches that would appear for no reason. I also cried a lot. And slept. My abilities were disabled, so that, in itself, becomes disability, right? With every subsequent case of Covid (and I’ve had alarmingly many) and even vaccine, I was flattened completely. Disabled. Unable.
In publishing, we talk about diversity all the time, and getting recognition for groups of people who are not represented the way they should be, but that focus has been far too heavily weighted in favour of class and ethnicity. True diversity means representation in books, in marketing, in everything, for all groups of people, including those who are disabled – visibly or invisibly, obviously or hidden – and we, as an industry, definitely fall short on that front.
A number of our Orenda team have disabilities, including chronic illness, and we are, as a result, collectively compassionate, and eager to ensure that our events, for example, are accessible, that our working practices are fair and inclusive, that our books are representative. But it wasn’t until Covid stopped me in my tracks that I realised the immense importance of including characters and situations that might fall outside the ‘able norm’ in our books.
When people see themselves represented in books, they feel seen and reading becomes more relevant and immersive. When we read about people whose lives are different from ours, who face challenges that we cannot even begin to imagine, we learn. We understand more deeply; we can take a literary walk in another person’s shoes. And only then can there be the change we need to see in our society. It took a personal experience of being unable for me to understand the importance of this; the importance of awareness, of compassion, of inclusion, of representation … of the need to include accurate portrayals of disability and the disabled in our books, and to keep this in mind in everything we do. I would, personally, devour a book that encompassed my experience; my son and I would both be riveted to a book about ‘invisible deafness’, and we would urge others to read it too.
We’re actively seeking change, within the parameters of our determination to publish bold, original, thought-provoking fiction, and we urge other publishers to do the same. Indies are well placed to forge a path, and that is exactly what we’ll do here at Orenda Books … an accessible path, of course.





I read Norwegian fiction mostly so I have to search a bit to find what is translated into English. Among those I found I recommend The Therapist by Helene Flood, a tremendous psychological thriller, and The Seven Doors by Agnes Ravatn, a nice mix of whodunnit and psychological thriller. Or you could pick up something by Gunnar Staalesen, e.g. Wolves in the Dark or Fallen Angels. Get these and you’ll be fully entertained this summer.
Kitchenly 434 – Alan Warner
Who They Was – Gabriel Krauze
Utopia Avenue – David Mitchell
I have to recommend that people postpone reading until they have finished watching Katla on Netflix. (Blowing my own trumpet here!) But after that I think people should go for some of the amazing Orenda books on offer; next on my reading list is Simone Buchholz’s Hotel Cartagena. I love the Chastity Riley series. She is one of my fave characters, and there is something Chandleresque about Simone’s writing that is so cool.
My current read is The End of Her by Shari Lapena. She is the queen of domestic noir and I really enjoy her books.

I found this a devastatingly beautiful and powerful novel. It’s so much more than a thriller, though yes, it is one – the kind that has you glued to the page, having to read just one more. (For the record, I read it in two sittings.) As with Dean’s previous books the language is what sets it apart. He has a gift for keeping it simple, and yet it is deviously layered too. The setting is claustrophobic, the characters pulse off the page, and it’s dark, dark, dark, the way I like even my summer reads. But it’s hopeful too. It is excellent, and I strongly recommend it.
In complete contrast to the darkness of Dean’s book is Fenwick’s captivating and beautiful tale. Once again, she has proved she is the mistress of pure escapism. Spanning generations, with an achingly intense love story and unearthed secrets about ancestry at its core, this novel is just what the world needs right now. The immersive dual timeline whisks you away, and the country setting is perfect for this time of year. It’s a glorious summer read and is definitely one to look out for in 2021.
I’m reading this at the moment and it is the definition of a page-turner. Creepy, intriguing and compelling.
A beautifully written thriller with a highly original setting and cast of characters. Terse, tense and packed with heart.
Nothing combats bone-chilling cold like talk about bones! I’m enjoying anthropologist Professor Dame Sue Black’s Written in Bone. The case studies and very human stories she weaves around them are fascinating.
I adore words and their origins and playing with them, so I got immense pleasure from The Liar’s Dictionary by Eley Williams. In this novel we have two viewpoints – nineteenth-century Peter Winceworth inserting fictitious words into a new encyclopaedic dictionary, and the present day Mallory, tasked with finding these Mountweazels. But of course it’s not that straightforward.
This has the Highlands of Scotland, a plot that zips along, fascinating characters – and did I mention the Highlands of Scotland? Dare I say it … a rattling good read (out 5 August).
If I read a better thriller this year I’ll be surprised – and delighted. From the first page you know you’re in the hands of a master of their craft. Loved it!

Orenda
‘We have been absolutely 

A highly anticipated follow-up to her indie-favourite A Modern Family, Helga Flatland’s One Last Time, translated by Rosie Hedger, is an elegant, perceptive, warmly funny novel focusing on fractured family relationships that come under the spotlight when a woman – grandmother and mother – discovers she has terminal cancer. Winner of the Norwegian Booksellers’ Prize and a number-one bestseller in Norway, this is an exquisitely moving book and a perfect example of why Joanna Cannon has dubbed Helga the ‘Norwegian Anne Tyler’.
Ex-Guardian columnist, Katie Allen’s immensely accomplished debut, Everything Happens for a Reason, was inspired by her own experience of still birth, and is both a profoundly moving portrait of grief and a quirky, laugh-out-loud story about a woman becomes obsessed with the idea that saving a young man’s life on the day she discovered she was pregnant is the ‘reason’ why her baby was born sleeping. Fans of Rachel Joyce and Eleanor Oliphant will love the zany characters, the moving themes and the gloriously uplifting messages.
Award-winning Hull author Louise Beech has written the searingly emotive and mesmerisingly beautiful This Is How We Are Human, sure to be her breakthrough novel with 100 five-star reviews on Goodreads before publication. In this breathtaking book, we meet Sebastian, an autistic young man who yearns for a relationship and all that this entails. Driven by love and a desire to make her son happy, his mother hires a high-class escort, whose own determination to get through the night, to pay for her father’s medical bills and her own nursing degree is absolutely heartrending. When these three lives collide, everything is changed. For everyone. This is a timely, thought-provoking story about love in its many forms. We are enchanted.
Everything Happens for a Reason is Katie’s first novel. She used to be a journalist and columnist at the Guardian and Observer, and started her career as a Reuters correspondent in Berlin and London. The events in Everything Happens for a Reason are fiction, but the premise is loosely autobiographical. Katie’s son, Finn, was stillborn in 2010, and her character’s experience of grief and being on maternity leave without a baby is based on her own. And yes, someone did say to her ‘everything happens for a reason’.
Helga Flatland is already one of Norway’s most awarded and widely read authors. Born in Telemark, Norway, in 1984, she made her literary debut in 2010 with the novel Stay If You Can, Leave If You Must, for which she was awarded the Tarjei Vesaas’ First Book Prize. She has written four novels and a children’s book and has won several other literary awards.
Alex Clark is a journalist and broadcaster, often seen in the pages of the Guardian, the Observer and the Times Literary Supplement, and heard on BBC R4 programmes such as Front Row and Open Book. An experienced chair of live events, she has also worked as an artistic director at the Bath Festival is a Patron of the Cambridge Literary Festival. The literary awards she has judged include the Man Booker Prize and the Orwell Prize. Alex lives in Kilkenny, Ireland.