The Year of the Tiger
Back in August 2011 the manuscript for Tigers in Red Weather, the debut novel from New York Times journalist Liza Klaussmann, landed on Editorial Director Kate Harvey's desk.
Kate sent it out to colleagues and within just a few days the air was electric with excitement; we'd found our summer blockbuster. Unfortunately seven other publishers had pricked up their ears too, and what followed was an eight publisher battle to pitch for and win this wonderful novel.
Battle won, novel acquired, we set to finding a cover design that could evoke the effortless glamour of Tigers in Red Weather but also an element of unease, some discomfort in the pressing heat of a Martha’s Vineyard summer.
We know you can’t read it yet (which must be infuriating!), but here’s what Lee Dibble, Picador’s Senior Marketing Manager had to say:
‘Reading Tigers in Red Weather was sheer unalloyed pleasure, being pulled into Tiger House was the most thrilling reading experience I’ve had for some time. I absolutely loved how Liza exposed the bubbling man-o-war inside the outwardly picture-perfect Derringers.’
…and that’s the thing about this glorious novel, the Derringers’ life does seem pristine. It is not. Its pulse isn’t so much to the skip of jazz or the chink of ice in a frosted glass; there is something more sinister at work, and in the searing July of 1959 it becomes impossible to ignore. . .
“Do you think the rain will break the heat?” she asked.
“No,” Hughes said. “I don’t think it’s that kind of storm.”
The chilled vodka sent a shiver over him. It was a perfect martini and he sat there thinking about that and about Nick and about the smell of the paint.
The boat winked in the stormy light, catching shades of the water off the harbor. Nick rose, her cup in one hand, and walked over to the dinghy. Gently, she pressed an index finger against the hull, and evidently finding it dry, ran her hand over it, as Hughes had only minutes before. She sipped from her martini, her lower lip rising to meet the rim. Then she sat down again, resting her head against the wall.