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‘My name is Freedom Oliver and I killed my daughter’ … What follows is perhaps the most satisfying reading experience I've had so far this year.
Old habits die hard, and (caution: here comes TMI), I have a longstanding practice of eating while reading particular literary genres. For instance, I prefer crunching on salty anything for mysteries; sweets for commercial fiction and biographies. However, a few seconds into Freedom’s Child and I dropped my bag of kettle chips and never went back to them again.
The opening lines of Jax Miller's kn...