This time, many decades later, we both listened to it as an audio book. I’m not sure when I first read it, although there was a radio dramatisation of it when I was a child, and on the cusp of my twenties, my boyfriend, who rated it highly, bought it for me and read it to me. It was first published in 1958, and the first paperback was in 1964. Marianne Dreams by Catherine Storr is a haunting, claustrophobic and disturbing fantasy story for children of about nine years old and upwards.
The wind whistled round the house and was gone, leaving Marianne deaf for a moment, and suddenly chilled.”
The grass writhed and tore at its roots, the pale flowers beat against their stems, the thin thread of smoke was blown out like a candle flame, and disappeared into the dark sky. Then it was all around her, and everything that had been so still before became alive with movement. Across the prairie it blew towards her, and in its path the grass whistled and rustled, dry stalk on dry stalk, and bent, so that she could see the path of the wind as it approached her. “As she stood, considering what to do, she heard the distant sound of wind.
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