Cecelia Ahern - There’s No Place Like Here

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Acclaimed novelist Cecelia Ahern's There's No Place Like Here tells the story of Sandy Shortt, an obsessive-compulsive Missing Persons investigator who suddenly finds herself in the mystical land of the missing, desperate to return to the people and places from whom she has spent her life escaping. With this imaginative fourth novel, Ahern, whose P.S. I Love You was made into a major motion picture, continues to establish herself as not only an icon of Irish chick lit, but also a bold and creative thinker.
Continuing the whimsical trend she started with If You Could See Me Now, Ahern asks readers to step outside the boundaries of reality, and enter a world where missing people (and possessions) from all over the globe congregate to start anew. When Sandy goes on an early morning jog and strays too far into the forest, she too finds herself "Here," the aptly named home of the missing. In addition to finding her lost socks, diaries, and stuffed animals, she also finds many of the people she has searched for throughout her career. From Bobby Stanley, who disappeared from his mother's house at the age of sixteen, to Terrence O'Malley, a librarian who disappeared on his way home from work at age 55, Sandy is quickly reunited with the people she has come to know only through photos and heartbreaking memories shared by devastated loved ones who enlisted her services. Of course, finding these people and possessions only makes Sandy realize how much she has missed out on in her real life, most notably her concerned parents and her on again off again boyfriend Greg.
There's No Place Like Here is often predictable and the premise is a bit hard to swallow at times. Still, readers who take the leap will be rewarded with what is ultimately a witty, compassionate, and captivating love story.

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We borrowed a flashlight from Jenny-May, as the sun was hiding behind the tree, leaving us bathed in blue light. Helena led the way back to the village. Eventually I could see the lights in the distance. Feeling dizzy with happiness, I took the photos from my pocket to study them once more while walking. I retrieved two and felt around for the third. It was gone.

“Oh, no,” I moaned, and stopped walking, immediately looking to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Bobby stopped walking and called to Helena to stop.

“The photograph of me and Jenny-May is gone.” I started to walk back the way we had come.

“Hold on, Sandy.” Bobby followed me, looking at the ground. “We’ve been walking for almost an hour now. It could be anywhere. We really have to get back to the Community Hall for the play; we’re late as it is. You can take another photo with her tomorrow when it’s bright.”

“No, I can’t,” I whinged, straining my eyes to see the ground in the evening light.

Helena, who so far hadn’t said a word, stepped forward. “You dropped it?”

That made me stop and look up at her. Her face was serious, her tone grave.

“I assume so. I doubt it leaped out and ran away on its own.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I definitely dropped it. My pocket is open, see?” I showed them the shallow breast pocket. “Why don’t you two just go on ahead and I’ll look around here for a little while.”

They looked unsure.

“We’re less than five minutes away. I can see the pathway back, we’re so close.” I smiled. “Honestly, I’ll be OK. I have to find this photo and then I’ll go straight to the Community Hall to see the play. I promise.”

Helena was looking at me oddly, obviously torn between helping me and helping the cast prepare for their dress rehearsal.

“I’m not leaving you on your own,” Bobby said.

“Here, Sandy, you take this flashlight. Bobby and I will be able to see our way from here. I know it’s important for you to find it.” She handed over the flashlight and I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

“Helena, stop worrying!” I laughed. “I’ll be OK.”

“I know you will, sweetheart.” She leaned over and, taking me by surprise, planted a quick kiss on my cheek and gave me a quick, tight hug. “Be careful.”

Bobby smiled at me over Helena’s shoulder. “She’s not going to die, you know, Helena.”

Helena slapped him playfully over the head. “Come on with me. I need you to bring all the costumes over from the shop ASAP, Bobby! You promised I’d have them yesterday!”

“Well, that was before David Copperfield here was called to the Community Hall!” he defended himself playfully.

Helena glared at him.

“OK, OK!” He backed away from her. “Hope you find it, Sandy.” He winked at me before following Helena back down the path. I heard them nagging and teasing one another for a while until the sounds of their voices disappeared and they entered the village.

I turned around and immediately started scanning the ground. I could pretty much remember the way we had come. It seemed to be one main pathway. Very rarely did we come across a choice of others, and so with my eyes peeled to the ground, I made my way back deeper into the forest.

Helena and Bobby rushed around backstage, fixing costumes, last-minute broken zippers and tears, going over lines with nervous cast members, and giving final pep talks to a panicked crew. Helena hurried out to her seat in the auditorium beside Joseph before the performance began and finally relaxed for the first time in the last hour.

“Is Sandy not with you?” Joseph asked, looking around.

“No,” Helena said, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at her husband. “She stayed behind in the forest.”

Joseph took his wife’s hand and whispered, “Along the Kenyan coast where I come from, there is a forest called the Arabuko-Sokoke Forest.”

“Yes, you’ve talked about it,” Helena acknowledged.

“There, there are kipepeo girls, butterfly farmers who help keep the forest preserved.”

Helena looked up at him, finally learning the meaning of the nickname. He smiled. “They are known as guardians of the forest.”

“She stayed in the forest to find a photograph of her and Jenny-May. She thinks she dropped it.” Helena’s eyes began to fill and Joseph squeezed her hand.

The curtains on stage parted.

At times I thought I saw the white of the photograph glowing in the moonlight and I would wander off the track to search among the weeds and undergrowth, chasing small birds and creatures away with my flashlight. After half an hour I was sure I should have reached the first clearing by now. I shone the flashlight all around me, looking for something familiar, but it was just trees, trees, and more trees. But then again I had been walking far more slowly and so it would take me longer to get there. I decided to keep walking in the same direction. It was black now, and around me owls hooted and creatures moved in their natural habitat, startled to find me where I didn’t belong. I didn’t plan on being there much longer. I shivered, the cool evening now turning to cold. I shone the flashlight straight ahead, deciding that I’d dropped the photograph closer to Jenny-May’s house than I thought.

“Where am I?” Orla Keane stepped onto the stage as Dorothy Gale, looking around the community hall that, for the night, was a grand theater. Hundreds of faces stared back at her. “What is this strange land?”

Thirty minutes later, sweating, panting, and dizzy from jogging around in different directions, I recognized the first clearing up ahead. I stopped running and leaned over to hold on to a tree, to steady myself and catch my breath. I breathed a sigh of relief and was taken aback by the realization I’d been more anxious about being lost than I’d thought.

“I need a heart,” Derek cried out. “I need a brain,” Bernard announced theatrically. “And I need courage,” Marcus said quietly in his bored tone. The audience laughed as they all hopped off with Dorothy stage right, arm in arm.

It was brighter in the clearing, the moon shining down without the trees acting as a shield. The floor of the clearing was blue and in the center I could see a small white square sheet glistening. Despite my tiredness and the pain in my chest, I began to run toward the photograph. I knew I was out longer than I had intended to be and I had promised Helena I would be there for her. A mixture of emotions rushed through me as I felt such pressure to find the photograph and to be there for Helena and my new friends. I wasn’t concentrating as I stupidly ran at top speed in the dark, in Barbara Langley’s heeled shoes. I landed unevenly on a rock and felt my ankle twist. The pain shot up my leg, forcing me off balance. The ground came up to meet me quickly before there was anything I could do to stop it.

“You mean I had the power inside myself to go home all the time?” Orla Keane said innocently. The audience laughed.

“Yes, Dorothy,” Carol Dempsey, dressed as the good witch Glinda, said, in her usual gentle tones. “Just click your heels together and say the words.”

Helena grabbed Joseph’s hand more tightly and he squeezed back.

Orla Keane closed her eyes and began to click her heels together. “There’s no place like home,” she said, pulling everyone into her mantra. “There’s no place like home.”

Joseph looked across at his wife and saw a tear roll down her face. He raised a thumb to stop it from dropping from her chin. “Our kipepeo has flown.”

Helena nodded, and another tear fell.

I felt everything go from under me, my head smashed violently against something hard. I felt the pain shoot down my spine and everything went black.

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