Conor's mother is sick, again, but this time, it's worse. This time, it's so bad that Conor's having the same horrible nightmare every night, a nightmare that he can't bear to so much as admit to having. And during the days...during the days, now, the yew tree down the road is coming walking, telling tales to Conor and demanding that Conor tell one of his own.
What an amazing book. Everything about it is perfect--the writing, the design, the wild, untameable illustrations. The backstory of it's creation is pretty incredible, too, and while I would have liked to read Ms. Dowd's version, I'm so very glad to have read this one.