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Falling Under Paperback – March 1, 2011


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Product Details

  • Age Range: 12 and up
  • Grade Level: 7 and up
  • Paperback: 324 pages
  • Publisher: NAL Trade (March 1, 2011)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0451232682
  • ISBN-13: 978-0451232687
  • Product Dimensions: 0.8 x 5.5 x 8.1 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 9.9 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 4.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (141 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #857,385 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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About the Author

Gwen Hayes lives in the Pacific Northwest with her real life hero and a pack of wild beasts (two of whom she gave birth to). She is a reader, writer, and lover of pop culture (which, other than yogurt, is the only culture she gets).

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

Everything changed the night I saw the burning man fall from the sky.

I'd been reading well past a reasonable hour, the white eyelet quilt tented over my iPhone to block any escaping light even though my father was already tucked away in bed dreaming of new ways to make me safer.

The cell phone was a compromise—I added extra music lessons to my scarce free time in exchange for a phone. It was win-win for Father; the few hours a day I wasn't with him or sheltered in the safety of my pink and ivory room, decorated by a prestigious designer to gild my cage, I was now instantly accessible. In addition, there were now even fewer hours in which I might find trouble. He didn't know I could read e-books on the phone; he didn't even know what e-books were. Father just thought he'd finally broken me of reading by flashlight.

It would never have occurred to him that I hadn't been broken—I'd graduated. Every night I went somewhere new and pretended to be someone else—someone interesting—on the device he'd purchased to control me more than he already did. A priceless freedom to a girl with a strange British accent living in the small town of Serendipity Falls, California, under her watchful father's thumb.

But the burning man falling from the sky pulled me from my faraway world. My gaze wandered to the window an instant before he appeared. And then, slowly, like a feather caught on a light breeze, he willowed past my window, turning his grotesque head towards me, his mouth open in a silent scream. He was more than on fire. He was fire.

Orange and red flames braided together in the shape of a man, but it was his eyes that caused me to suck in my breath and hold it as I ran to the window. His eyes, scared and imploring, told of a darkness and agony I couldn't begin to understand.

I leaned farther into the window, the glass surprisingly warm from his brush past it. Like I touched a trace of him. As he completed his unhurried, torturous descent to the lawn, he kept his gaze locked on mine. Beseeching me for something I couldn't give as the flames consumed him. So many things I should have felt, wondered, or worried about, yet I just watched, fascinated and compelled to see him to the end.

He landed in the yard, still burning alive. My father's pristine lawn would be scorched.

He'd be so disappointed.

Afraid to leave my perch, I was unsure what to do next. Surely what I was seeing was a figment of my overactive imagination. A dream caused by too much reading and not enough sleeping. But what if he suffered while I did nothing?

I turned and ran, as quietly as I could, through my room, down the stairs, and finally out the back door. The dew-covered grass beneath my feet reminded me of my state of undress. The nightgown felt thinner and more revealing than what my father had intended when he approved its purchase.

I shivered, not with cold but with nerves. The flames of the burning man sputtered and cooled, revealing charred bones and hunks of flesh. Yet he moved and groaned.

I sank to my knees, horrified that God would be so merciless as to let this poor human being endure such misery. The scent of cooked meat triggered my gag reflex. Strips of bumpy, burned flesh covered his bones here and there, but—his eyes—his eyes remained whole and lucid, giving him the garish appearance of a Halloween corpse.

The smell of sulfur stung my nose, making it hard to breathe. Yet the burning man continued to rasp and sputter.

How could he? His lungs had been incinerated.

For the first time, I noticed I still held the phone. Stupid girl. I should have dialed 911 a long time ago. I'd just pressed the 9 when he spoke.

"Don't bother."

I whimpered at the sound of his raspy, inhuman voice. "You need an ambulance."

The skeleton gurgled a bit, the sound grating and raw. "Too late. I don't have much time."

He shouldn't have had any time. I looked to the sky, but there was no sign of smoke or anything else falling. He groaned again.

"I…; I'm sorry." Lame, stupid girl. "I don't know what to do. I…; wish I could make you more comfortable."

"You must be so frightened." He whispered now, slowly yet with a carefully measured cadence. "I'm sorry you had to see this."

How could he worry about my comfort right now? "Do you want to…; um…; pray or something?"

"No."

His answer came too quickly, too vehemently.

"You'll stay?" he asked—no, implored. "I have no right to ask it of you, but…; I'm afraid to be alone right now. Will you stay…; until…;"

"Of course."

Moisture from the cold, wet grass seeped into the material of my nightgown, promising ugly stains in the virginal white shroud. I already felt the weight of yet another of Father's disappointments.

"Do you want me to ring anyone for you? To say good-bye?"

"There…; is…; no…; one." His whisper weakened with each word.

No one to mourn him? I forced myself to look him, death, in the eyes, and leaned closer, blocking out the revulsion of his grotesque appearance. His last vision should be of someone caring that he died. Someone mourning him. He raised his bony fingers as if to touch me and I steeled myself not to flinch as his hand, still smoldering, neared my face.

He rattled and spoke his last words. "Worth…; the…; fall."

His hand dropped, and the grass sizzled beneath it.

Then his body turned to dust, leaving only a blackened scorch mark on my father's lawn.

I rolled away from the sunlight streaming through my lace curtains and burrowed my head under the pillow. It was a dream. It must have been. Burning men don't fall from the sky. Skeletons don't speak one minute and turn to dust the next.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I was going to have to look. Resigned, I walked the distance from my bed to the window, and it seemed to stretch farther and farther away, the way things do in nightmares. I touched the glass first—it was cool, of course. My fingers splayed on the window and I leaned into it, looking down, hoping to find the perfectly manicured lawn I'd known just yesterday. But the perfection was marred and the grass seared where he'd lain. The burning man.

My heartbeat sputtered and restarted, thumping wildly and faltering with its own rhythm. My mind raced to find an explanation that didn't include a fiery cadaver with scary eyes and a lonely soul.

What kind of…; people…; fell from the sky? Aliens? Fallen angels? Skydivers?

Maybe his plane crashed. But none of that explained his ability to talk with no lungs…; or skin, or organs, or…; No. I must have dreamt it. There was no other explanation. Best to put it out of my mind. Nightmares had no control over me and there was nothing to fear.

Besides, nothing happens in sleepy towns like Serendipity Falls. That's why Father bought a house here. His commute to the city wasn't bad, a half hour unless the fog blanketed us in. He did whatever it was barristers do in their offices all day and made it home for supper almost every evening.

He'd chosen this town precisely for its lack of drama, I reassured myself as I grabbed my pink robe off the hook. What devilry ever befell a girl in a counterfeitly cheerful Victorian house? Surely the heavy cornices and gingerbread trim were wards against all things evil.

It wasn't until I turned on the bathroom light that I remembered what day it was.

The familiar numbness that got me through this day every year painted itself over me. One foot in front of the other, one routine, then the next, lather, rinse, repeat. I'd go downstairs, drink my orange juice, take a vitamin, walk to school. It was just a day, after all.

Father would already be gone to his San Francisco office. It was easier that way, at least in the morning. Not having to face each other meant not having to acknowledge the significance of the day, this day.

The anniversary of my mother's death.

I struggled with my hair. The wild curls preferred to be loose and resisted the taming of elastic bands or clips. The wildness of my mane—a curse, according to my father, who'd tried unsuccessfully to convince me that I should style it shorter and sleeker—was a gift from my mother. The wildness of my heart was yet another unwanted motherly inheritance. Father tried to convince me that I should live carefully, and the struggle to rein in my spirit, as well as my hair, kept me battle—weary day after day.

Wanting to please Father, I always pushed back my impulses. He needed me. Sure, he could be gruff and impossibly strict, but I was all he had. Things would have been different if my mother hadn't died, but there was no sense going down that road. Especially today.

I sprinted down the stairs and then chastised myself for the recklessness since Father wasn't there to do it for me. I took the vitamin he'd left out, drank the juice he'd poured, and ate the biscuit—I mean cookie—only after I'd first double-checked that he'd actually left, and then made sure no stray crumbs would give me away. I avoided the greeting card left on the center of the polished table for as long as I could.

My hands shook as I opened our one exception to completely ignoring that this day existed. Happy 17th Birthday, Theia.

Love, Father

I put the card in my pack, grabbed a sweater, and walked to school.

Nobody at Serendipity High extended me birthday wishes because that was the way I wanted it. My friends, now that I had them, shot surreptitious glances at m...

--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

More About the Author

Gwen Hayes lives in the Pacific Northwest with her real life hero, their children, and the pets that own them. She writes stories for teen and adult readers about love, angst, and saving the world.

Gwen's first novel, Falling Under, was released in March of 2011 by NAL/Penguin and followed up by the sequel, Dreaming Awake, in January of 2012.

She is represented by Jessica Sinsheimer of the Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency.



For more information, please visit http://www.gwenhayes.com or sign up for her non-spammy newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/v-4Xj

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Most Helpful Customer Reviews

33 of 35 people found the following review helpful By Dark Faerie Tales on March 2, 2011
Format: Paperback
Quick & Dirty: A wonderful plot and engaging characters mixed with mayhem and a fascinating Under realm make this a delicious and highly entertaining read.

Opening Sentence: Everything changed the night I saw the burning man fall from the sky.

The Review:

In the small town of Serendipity Falls, Theia Alderson lives a sheltered life. In her dreams, Theia is pursued by a dangerous yet seductive stranger. The surroundings are unfamiliar because Theia has fallen Under. In the Under realm, her irresistible suitor shows her things that Theia can hardly fathom. Theia's dreams soon become reality when her dark suitor, Haden Black, shows up as the new student in her school. As their connection grows stronger, Theia has trouble resisting Haden and the horrifying world of Under. Now that she has fallen under his spell, will she be able to save her soul?

I didn't know what I expected when I set out to read Falling Under. I never read reviews for books that I'm interested in because I hate spoilers. I was intrigued by the synopsis. In any case, I would have read the book based solely on its beautiful cover. Even though things start slowly, the story still managed to hold my attention. I'm pleased to say that Falling Under ended up being one of the best YA novels that I've read this year. Falling Under is an edgy and layered world filled with danger and despair. This darkly riveting story is intense and certainly stands on its own in the YA paranormal genre. Ms. Hayes exposes the reader to a macabre world and all its dangers. The world-building is truly inventive and the characters are intriguing. The powerful sexual and emotional undertones give this story an edge that you rarely see in a YA novel.
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Format: Paperback
When I think of the BIG titles that broke out a specific trend in Paranormal YA, I think of TWILIGHT and vampires, SHIVER and werewolves, HUSH HUSH and angels, WICKED LOVELY and faeries, and now I think we're about to add FALLING UNDER to that list. You'll have to read the book to find out what new trend it's breaking.

In the tradition of those aforementioned titles, FALLING UNDER is part gothic romance, part paranormal mystery, and part coming of age story. It's breathtakingly written in a way that I think will elevate it above most of it's peers (excepting maybe SHIVER). The characters, even the secondary ones, are all given dimension and distinct motivations. I didn't necessarily like every character, but I believed they were real.

Specifically, FALLING UNDER is like a mash-up of HUSH HUSH and WICKED LOVEY. Like, Patch, the romantic lead is dark and dangerous and his motives are rarely pure. You'll hate and love him a dozen times before the book is over. And like the unseen Faerie realm, Theia's `visits' to Under are fractured and macabre. It frighteningly easy to lose herself there and revel in the dance even while knowing it's destroying her.

The entire book is surprisingly dark and delightful. Even readers who are growing jaded by this genre should find something to enjoy here. The ending is less of an ending and more of a setup for the next book, but it's so provocative that I don't even care that it's a cliffhanger. All I care about is finding out when I can tumble back down this rabbit hole and fall back Under.

Sexual Content:
Kissing. References to sex. Some coarse sexual dialog
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26 of 30 people found the following review helpful By Cari VINE VOICE on March 9, 2011
Format: Paperback
Falling Under was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be a story about fey but I was wrong Gwen Hayes gives you a new dark creature to be taken by. In Falling Under Theia's life is very normal and even a little boring until she finds a burning man on her lawn. Theia isn't sure if she's dreaming but from that moment her life is thrown into the supernatural. Theia also realizes if it was a dream she was sleepwalking because her clothes show signs of being out in the yard. She soon starts dreaming about a Victorian gothic gorgeous guy who she has never met. The next day Haden starts school and as soon as Theia sees him she knows he is the guy from her dreams. Only he isn't goth but Abercrombie gorgeous! I would never have dreamed that a guy could be both emo goth and dream guy but Haden is hotness. Haden and Theia have one of those the earth stops kind of moment without even speaking but tries his best to avoid her. Haden reminds me a little of Patch from Hush, Hush because he's hot and dark but has his jerk moments. Regardless of the jerk moments Haden does redeem himself.

Theia and Haden spend plenty of time in the dark dream world but Theia isn't convinced if Haden knows or if it's simply her dream. In Theia's dreams she finds out who Haden is and why he suddenly shows up in her world. Haden's reasons for showing up will only bring misery. The world where Theia dreams is dark and twisted and yet there is a beauty in the details.

Falling Under is told in two worlds where Theia and Haden will learn what it means to walk in each other's footsteps. Haden's infatuation with Theia brings her a world of danger but her loved ones will stop at nothing to save her. Falling Under had a definite ending but with room for more books.
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