‘A creepily prescient tale . . . Insidiously horrifying!’ Margaret Atwood
‘A masterpiece of creeping dread.’ Emily St. John Mandel
‘Delicious and sexy and downright chilling . . . Read it!’ Rumaan Alam
‘A masterwork of English pastoral horror: eerie and bewitching.’ Claire-Louise Bennett
‘Deft, dread filled, hypnotic and hopeful. Completely got under my skin.’ Kiran Millwood Hargrave
‘I'm pretty wild about this paranoid, terrifying 1977 masterpiece.’ Lauren Groff
‘Lush, hypnotic, compulsive . . . A reminder of where groupthink leads.’ Eimear McBride
‘Crystalline . . . The signature of an enchantress.’ Edna O'Brien’
Kay Dick’s radical dystopian classic, lost for forty years, republished by Faber Editions with a new foreword by Carmen Maria Machado.
Painting a nightmarish portrait of Britain, THEY begin with a dead dog, shadowy footsteps, confiscated books. Soon the National Gallery is purged; eerie towers survey the coast; savage mobs stalk the countryside destroying artworks – and those who resist.
THEY capture dissidents in military sweeps, ‘curing’ these subversives of individual identity.
Survivors gather together as cultural refugees, preserving their crafts, creating, loving and remembering. But THEY make it easier to forget . . .
Lost for over forty years, Kay Dick’s They (1977) is a rediscovered dystopian masterpiece of art under attack: a cry from the soul against censorship, a radical celebration of non-conformity – and a warning.