A Healing Touch offers you the opportunity to browse through a collection of ten extracts, each from a different book. You will find a wide variety of reading experiences in this sampler. Some flavours will be familiar while others may be new to you and, on first acquaintance, feel strange or unusual.

You may be excited by the prospect of uncharted territory or you may feel a bit daunted. But don’t worry, you’re not on your own here. You’ll discover friendly advice on how you might find a way into the more unusual titles and plenty of encouragement to give something different a go. You can afford to experiment - take a small sip, a tiny bite, without the fear of being landed with a read you wish you’d never chosen.

The beauty of this sampler is if you don’t like your first choice, you can dip again and again, with the guarantee that what you select next won’t be at all like the last. Indeed, it might be the read you’ve always been waiting for.

The titles chosen for this sampler are linked by issues to do with healing, and the many forms it can take. They go way beyond stories in which people fall ill and get better (or die). There is a deeper and wider exploration of the nature of healing going on here. These books deal with characters who have

been damaged by illness, injury, or the many emotional blows that life can

deal - but that is where the similarity ends.

The extracts are set in many different times and places: from a derelict garage in the north east of England in David Almond’s Skellig, to the awesome landscapes of North Carolina during the American Civil War, in Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain, and the majestic sweep of the African desert, in The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje.

The nature of healing in these stories emerges in a variety of ways, and in many of the extracts there is both pain and suffering. But this does not mean that this sampler is chock full of depressing books. Bernard MacLaverty’s Grace Notes invites the listener to share in Catherine’s dark journey through post-natal depression, but also in the overwhelming love she feels for her daughter and the celebration of her success as a composer. And Deric Longden’s story of his mother’s stroke, Lost for Words, will have you laughing one minute and reaching for your hanky the next.

While many do not have traditional happy endings, there are those accounts, like Ruth Picardie’s Before I Say Goodbye, which leave you feeling inspired, uplifted, and often very humble. While you will mourn the loss of such a vital person, you can also celebrate their life and appreciate their gifts.

Many of these titles include a cast of characters beyond the central themes of

the book. So in Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain, during Inman’s journey back

home to his wife, Ada, he meets some fascinating people who add that something extra to the story. Similarly, in Nicholas Evans’s The Horse Whisperer, the reader gets an insight into the lives of those living and working on a ranch in Montana as well the cut-throat world of New York publishing. And, in this book, the characters of the horses are as convincing and individual as the people.

The nature of healing, then, takes many forms in the following ten extracts from the search (both successful and otherwise) for a cure, to the range of journeys (the real and the emotional) undertaken by people looking for peace of mind or a resolution to a problem.

Read the introductions to each title and decide for yourself. Be generous, be daring - you can always stop if it’s not your cup if tea. But if you don’t try … you’ll never know!

INTRODUCTION ONE: The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje

The extract begins in Tuscany towards the end of the Second World War. Hana, a young nurse, is left alone to care for a badly burned man, known only as ‘the English Patient.’ Hana too is damaged; she is suffering from shell-shock and is broken by the death of her father. She also needs healing.

During the long days and longer nights, the English patient runs through the stories from his past like a reel of film, sometimes in his head, sometimes aloud to his companions. Gradually, it becomes apparent that he was damaged beyond repair years ago by an incident that will haunt him until his dying breath.

Hana’s dedicated nursing brings a healing of sorts to her patient, a kind of acceptance of what has passed. In turn, her pain lessens as she learns to live again.

This is a beautifully written book; the language is exquisite and much more accessible than many readers think it’s going to be. Don’t be put off by its reputation as a prizewinner - give it a go.

This is a story of a weaver called Silas Marner, set in the rural Midlands in the early 1800s. Some of you may have heard this tale at school and, if you did, why not revisit it and see if it offers you a different reading experience from the first time.

Silas is betrayed by a friend and accused of theft. As a result, he loses the love of the girl he was to marry and the respect of his community. He retreats to live in a place where no one knows him. There he licks his wounds and accumulates wealth, becoming a miser.

Silas’s life changes for a second time when his gold is stolen. While he is still grieving for his loss, Silas returns home one evening to find a little girl asleep by his hearth. On a strange impulse, and knowing the child’s mother is dead, Silas adopts Eppie and begins his long journey back to emotional and spiritual health. Healed and redeemed by caring for his adopted daughter, Silas gradually realises that the value of human love far exceeds that of gold.

INTRODUCTION THREE: Skellig by David Almond

‘What are your shoulder blades for?’ asks Michael. ‘It’s where your wings were when you were an angel,’ replies his mother.

Michael could use the healing power of an angel. His life has turned upside down. His parents have bought a new house, in a new neighbourhood, and now his baby sister has been born too early and might die. Dr Death is a constant visitor, his mum and dad are frantic with worry and Michael feels both alone and afraid.

Then one day, he makes a bizarre discovery in the derelict garage. Lying amongst years of rubbish is a strange and pathetic creature - Skellig.

Who can Michael tell? Not his father who has forbidden him to go near the garage. Not his mother, whose every waking moment is focused on her sick baby. Not his school friends, Leaky and Coot, they only understand football. Maybe Mina, the odd girl ‘over the way’, who doesn’t go to school, but sits in trees and talks about William Blake.

This story is quite short but goes deep. The language is hypnotic and very poetic, capturing the intonation of the Geordie voice perfectly. The fascination lies with who or what is Skellig. Can Michael and Mina make him better? Can he, in turn, perform miracles and heal Michael’s baby sister? Read the story and judge for yourself.

When they made Deric Longden’s mother, they broke the mould, as the saying goes. Her jaw is in a state of perpetual motion. She comments on her son’s shortcomings, she puts the world to rights with her cats and applies her own unique brand of verbal reasoning to anything from the sell-by dates on Marks and Spencer’s yoghurts to the long term benefits of Buttercup Syrup. Then one day, she has a stroke… followed closely by another … which scrambles her words and her life, leaving her frustrated, powerless and dependent on her son.

But Mrs Longden senior is not the only person in this book in need of healing. Deric and his grown-up children are also suffering. Their grief over the tragic death of Diana, (Deric’s wife and Sally and Nick’s mother) is still very new, very raw and shot through with complex emotions. Deric finds solace in a relationship with an old friend, Aileen, but is this enough to support both his own healing and the leading role he must play if his mother is to make any kind of recovery?

In spite of the subject matter (and the fact that it’s a true story) this is not a depressing read. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Deric Longden reveals that life is full of very funny moments, even when the chips are down. So, grab the Kleenex and prepare yourself for laughter and tears and you won’t be disappointed.

This novel offers no easy healing. Helen is estranged from both her mother and her grandmother. But when she finds out her brother Declan is dying, and he wants to visit his grandmother’s house by the sea, the three women end up there together, along with two of Declan’s gay friends. The six people, from different generations and with very different beliefs, spend a painful, awkward and sometimes very funny time together.

You may find this a deceptively gentle read at first. But Tóibín is unsparingly honest and he catches the pain and sadness of unresolved tensions in family relationships almost unbearably.

This is a book for anyone who is suspicious of comfort that comes too easy. The quality of perception and empathy in the writing is remarkable and will move you deeply. But this isn’t a book to make you cry - Tóibín denies you the release of tears. Drink it deeply, though, and you will find the experience unaccountably sustaining.

This story opens in a military hospital during America’s Civil War. Inman, a Confederate soldier, is convalescing after a close encounter with death. Although the wound on his neck is improving, Inman’s mind is haunted by the dreadful things he has seen and experienced on the battlefield. His healing will not be complete until he has returned to his wife, Ada, and their home in North Carolina. This becomes his goal and his only reason for living.

The book is written from two, alternating viewpoints: that of Inman as he makes his perilous journey across the mountains and also that of Ada, as she strives to work the farm and keep things going in her husband’s absence. This becomes a kind of therapy for her as she waits, not knowing if he will ever return.

This language used to tell this amazing story is elegant, descriptive and at times, tender, particularly when it draws detailed, evocative pictures of the landscape. It flows effortlessly, capturing all the flavours of a long-gone era, and in doing so soothes and comforts, bringing the reader well and truly under its spell.

In this anthology, Carol Ann Duffy has gathered together a rich and varied feast of words on the subject of loss and death. You’ll find poems by nineteenth century writers like Emily Dickinson and Robert Browning, and twentieth century poetic giants like W H Auden and Dylan Thomas rubbing shoulders with the more contemporary voices of Grace Nichols, Seamus Heaney, Liz Lochhead and Matthew Sweeney. There’s even a bit of Shakespeare.

This is by no means a depressing collection. Some of the poems are intensely moving and seem to capture perfectly the emotions surrounding the loss of a loved one. Others take a broader perspective on death like the war poets Wilfred Owen and Rupert Brooke. One or two are quite quirky and will make you smile.

Over the years, many people have found comfort in times of trouble or grief in both the reading and writing of poetry. Its healing qualities are legendary. But, rest assured, you don’t need to be an academic genius to appreciate the language or the meanings in these poems.

Even if you don’t regard yourself as a poetry lover, try the small selection included in this sampler. Treat it like pick and mix and if you find a flavour that suits your mood then why not dip further into the full collection.

The book opens with Catherine, the prodigal daughter, returning home, after a gap of five years, for her father’s funeral. During her stay, she is secretive about her life in Glasgow, talks a little about her music, but says nothing about her private life. But then, just before she leaves, she tells her mother than she has a child, Anna, but no husband. She also tells her mother that she is suffering from post-natal depression.

What follows is an exploration of Catherine’s life back in Glasgow - her journey through the dark tunnel of her depression, her moments of hope and her moments of deep despair.

Don’t be put off by the subject matter or by the many references to musical terms, composers and their works. You may even be tempted to try some of them yourself. This book is beautifully written; and its healing powers are far reaching. Catherine has much to come to terms with, but you feel the means for her recovery are within her grasp.

This book opens with a tragic accident. It is a snowy morning in up-state New York, when two teenage girls and their horses are hit by a truck. One girl and one horse die. Grace Maclean and her horse, Pilgrim, survive. The journey back to health seems long and problematic, maybe even impossible.

Annie Graves, Grace’s mother, refuses to let the vet destroy the horse. She feels that Pilgrim’s life and his recovery are inexplicably linked to her daughter’s. Instead she seeks out the man known as the ‘horse whisperer’ who may have the knowledge and skills to heal more than just an injured horse.

The obvious link with healing here is the physical recovery made by both Grace and Pilgrim after the accident. But the story also deals with a hurt that is more than skin deep: the difficult relationship between mother and daughter; the strain in Annie and Robert’s marriage; the stressful partnership between Annie and her work.

After a horrific beginning, this is a life-affirming read. Don’t be put off if you’re not into books about horses, The Horse Whisperer offers the reader so much more than this.

This book charts the life of Ruth Picardie, a young journalist, from the moment when she is diagnosed with cancer to just before her death. It is a collection of diary entries, letters and emails kept for her two very young children and published by her husband and sister after her death. If this sounds just too sad to continue, please don’t stop now, there are many good reasons to

carry on.

Ruth Picardie has an incredible spirit. Her writing reveals a woman who is vibrant, energetic, someone who wants to life live to the full and who won’t give in. The ups and downs of her diagnosis and illness are followed closely and generated masses of correspondence when they first appeared in The Observer newspaper.

You might wonder where is the healing? The healing is in her attitude to life and death; in the way her illness engaged other people - many complete strangers; in her very human response to her situation and in her passion for living and her honesty. It may make you cry; but you’ll feel privileged to have shared in this aspect of Ruth Picardie’s life.