Caroline Smailes was born in Newcastle in 1973. She moved to the North West to study English Literature at Liverpool University, before going on to specialise in Linguistics. A chance remark on a daytime chat show
 
caused Caroline to reconsider her life. She enrolled on an MA in Creative Writing in September 2005 and
began to write the novel In Search of Adam.

Caroline is currently an Associate Lecturer for the Open University and lives in the North West with her husband and three children.

In Search of Adam
Paperback published by Friday Fiction, Feb 2008.
ISBN 978-1-906321-02-4 £7.99

Praise for In Search of Adam:

“An engrossing and touching read from a new talent.”
The Big Issue in the North.

“An utterly riveting tale from a word magician who truly knows the beat of the grieving human heart.” - Elizabeth Baines author of Balancing on the Edge of the World.

“A unique, exciting and unforgettable read” - Ray Robinson, author of Electricity.

“Fantastic. She's a natural. It's confident, harrowing, uplifting and what's more it's set in the North East!” - Paul Magrs, author of Exchange and Strange Boy.

“Staccato prose that crackles with experience” - Danny Rhodes, author of Asboville.

“Original, authentic and technically brilliant, Caroline Smailes’ In  Search of Adam is a debut of remarkable quality and devastating power” - Nicholas Royle, author of Antwerp.

From In Search of Adam:

1980

On March 26 1980, I was six years, four months and two days old. I was dressed and ready for school. It was 8:06am on my digital watch. My mother was still in bed. I went into her room to wake her. I found her lying on top of her duvet cover. She wasn’t wearing any clothes. Her sea blue eyes were open. She wasn’t sleeping. And from the corner of her mouth, a line of lumpy sick joined her to the pool that was stuck to her cheek. Next to her, on her duvet I saw an empty bottle. Vodka. And there were eleven tablets. Small round and white. And I saw a scrap of ripped paper. There were words on it.

Jude, I have gone in search of Adam.
I love you baby

I didn’t understand. But I took the note. It was mine. I shoved it into the pocket of my grey school skirt. I crumpled it in. Then. Then I climbed next to her. I spooned into her. Molded into a question mark. Her stale sick mingled and lumped into my shiny hair. I stayed with my mother, until the warmth from her body transferred into me. We were not disturbed until my father returned from work. At 6:12pm.

Website : www.carolinesmailes.co.uk