Prologue

I REMEMBER WATERCOLOR nights with my dad. I can still conjure up his voice, creaky like an anise candy wrapper. Sometimes he'd shade my world with his knowledge of birds, bats, and insects, or recite the lyrics of ballads like, "To Know Know Know Him, is to Love Love Love Him." Now pushing seven years old, I would often pass the time sloshing around swamps in my yellow plastic boots searching for tadpoles and leopard frogs. When the wind howled he would say, "See little November, there is music everywhere."

Come along on a magical and mystical coming-of-age story set in the post-punk era of 1984, with November reliving the fateful night of the Celtic Hazel Moon Festival.