Malvika Singh
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A family moves cities to start again, and a girl alone in a bedroom becomes the cost of it. Jami Worthington’s The Valley is less interested in its killer than in the twenty-five years that follow — and that, mostly, is to its credit.
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Two weeks back in the swing of things after Little Miss’s discharge — stubborn alarms, indefensible butter, and a monsoon that refuses to be hurried. A fortnight that never quite reconciles, and somehow still lands in the black.






