The Sin-eater by Gary Schmidt

Here are a few snippets from The Sin-Eater to give a flavour...

Grandpa could be cantankerous as all get out, but when it came to Grandma, he smoothed out like an old dog circling down by a wood stove.

It came to me that the story wasn’t just a story to Grandpa. It was his own history coming down to him from generation to generation, a story about people whose blood we carried. For a moment there was no difference between Grandpa and Erastus; I felt the story settle down into me until it was more memory than story.

You can’t tell someone what fall leaves look like in New Hampshire. In fact, you can’t even really remember what they look like from one year to the next. Every fall they throw a surprise party, and suddenly you remember what you’ve forgotten. And it’s not just the colours. It’s the cooler breezes that draw across the leaves, making them shiver. It’s the cold dew that beads on them and wets the arm of your jacket. It’s the dusty smell when they are dry in the afternoon. And it’s the thick smoke that coils up from them when they burn just before suppertime.