Penny Dreadful is unleashed

Not content with appearing at Hay not once, but twice this week, I also have a sickening three books out, the first of which, Penny Dreadful, is unleashed on an unsuspecting public today. Her name isn’t actually Dreadful, it’s Jones. The Dreadful is just her dad’s joke. She knows it is a joke because when he says it he laughs like a honking goose, but she does not see the funny side. Plus it is not even true that she is dreadful. It is like Gran says, she is just a MAGNET FOR DISASTER. It is already being described as a ‘Horrid Henry for girls’ (and not just by my mum, but by The Bookseller, who have actually read both, unlike my mum who prefers a bit of Maeve Binchy). So what are you waiting for…?

About Joanna Nadin

A former broadcast journalist and special adviser to the prime minister, since leaving politics I’ve written more than 80 books for children and adults, as well as speeches for politicians, and articles for newspapers and magazines like The Guardian, Red and The Amorist. I also lecture in Creative Writing at Bath Spa University, and hold a doctorate in young adult literature. I’m a winner of the Fantastic Book Award and the Surrey Book Award, and have been shortlisted for the Roald Dahl Funny Prize, the Booktrust Best Book award and Queen of Teen among others, and twice nominated for the Carnegie Medal, for Everybody Hurts, and for Joe All Alone, which is now a BAFTA-winning and Emmy-nominated BBC TV series. I've also worked with Sir Chris Hoy on the Flying Fergus series and ghost-written Angry Birds under another name. I like London, New York, Essex, tea, cake, Marmite, mint imperials, prom dresses, pubs, that bit in the West Wing where Donna tells Josh she wouldn’t stop for a red light if he was in an accident, junk shops, crisps, Cornwall, St Custard’s, Portuguese custard tarts, political geeks, pin-up swimsuits, the Regency, high heels, horses, old songs, my Grandma’s fur coat, vinyl, liner notes, the smell of old books, the feel of a velveteen monkey, Guinness, quiffs, putting my hand in a bin of chicken feed, the 1950s, burlesque, automata, fiddles, flaneuring, gigs in fields on warm summer nights, Bath, the bath.
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