CHASING THE MOON – A sequel of THE HAPPINESS OF KATI Young adult fiction
Jane Vejjajiva

Rights: represented by The Fielding Agency: wlee@fieldingagency.com
French rights sold to Edition Gallimard
English translation by Prudence Borthwick available

Excerpts from Chasing the Moon

Gramaphone

1.

The sound of a whisper echoed sweetly.

Nature provided the house by the water with music all day long. Outside you could hear the cocks crowing at dawn, the wind sighing in the groves in late morning, birds calling from afar, and in the early afternoon, the sound of oars hitting the water when a boat passed by. All together this created a harmonious melody, which, although not particularly remarkable, formed a constant lullaby for those who lived in the small, Thai-style house.

When she awoke, Kati lay awhile, listening to the roosters, before turning over and burying her face in the pillow. Today was Saturday so there was no need to leap out of bed and get ready for school. It was a good excuse to laze in bed a bit longer.

Kati’s dreams of last night were still vivid in her mind. Even though it was just a dream, she could feel the warmth of Mother’s arms around her. Every time she dreamt of Mother, it was with a clarity that broke her heart when she woke up alone. Kati comforted herself with the thought that she could dream about Mother again that night. Kati didn’t want to get upbut she could hear the rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen, rising to a crescendo as Grandma got her breakfast cooking underway.

Grandpa said if nature provided the chorus, then the Diva was certainly Grandma. Grandma’s voice was loud and clear. When she was directing the performance in the kitchen, you could hear her voice from anywhere in the house. If she was not issuing instructions, then she was complaining. Today, not for the first time, the first sound Kati heard as she entered the kitchen was Grandma’s voice listing her grievances. This time, Grandma seemed intent on breaking her own record. She kept up her complaints without stopping till penh, the hour of the monks’ midday meal.