Front Porch Mannequins

Front Porch Mannequins



About the book

There they are again—Nan, Lily and Alice, sipping Joy Juice on Alice’s front porch. Delane, Alice’s mannequin, is looking on, as usual. When the discovery of a severed hand and the disappearance of Lily brings the police to the door, the women are finally jolted from their front porch indolence, forced to face the complexities of their tortured pasts.

About the author

Adams, Rebekkah

Rebekkah Adams is an Owen Sound, Ontario writer whose short fiction, poems, and journalism have appeared in such publications as Fireweed, Canadian Women's Studies Journal, and the Georgia Straight. A graduate of the Humber School for Writers program, she is the author of Glass Houses: Saving Feminist Anti-Violence Agencies from Self-Destruction (2008), a critique of governance and internal conflict in anti-violence agencies. A front-line worker and manager for over twenty years in shelters for women and children, she is currently a counselor in private practice. Front Porch Mannequins is her first novel.


“What the hell?”

Daryl swerved to avoid running over something on the road, then stopped.

“No way. There’s no way.”

He got out of the car to take a look. He stood over it for several minutes, trying to allow the image to register.

“Good fuckin’ lord.”

It was a hand. A person’s hand. Not a plastic Halloween costume hand or a prosthetic hand. It was a human hand. He thought for a moment it was a glove, the way it lay with the fingers stiff, pointed upward and curled in. A Ski-Doo glove. But the fingers were too small and each of them was twisted in a certain way, with individual knuckles and such. The colour of the hand was like Fruit Bottom Yogurt â�� wild berry or mixed berry. The hand itself was not scarred or cut. The fingernails were clean and well manicured, short and wide. It was a man’s hand.

He decided he'd better pick it up and take it with him.


After finishing the last page of Rebekkah Adams' Front Porch Mannequins, I felt like getting in the car, braving the snow, and driving up the Peninsula to Tobermory. I didn't but I sure was tempted, wanting to see for myself… >>

The Owen Sound Sun Times

In terms of sketching out a dysfunctional universe, there is a lot to like about Front Porch Mannequins. Between crzy moms, bad boyfriends, latent lesbian tendencies, and the mystery of a severed hand, angst holds this book together the way… >>

— Bob Wakulich subTerrain

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