On Friday night I finished reading Girl On A Plane by Miriam Moss, a fictionalised account published in 2015 of her own experience of being on a hijacked plane in 1970, when she was fifteen. It was interesting as an account of the experience - though changed for dramatic, expository and other reasons - but not so much as a book in itself, though it was a quick and easy read.
I read it because Maisie had read it and said she thought I might like it; which she hasn't done with many books (this was one she'd actually bought in a bookshop at some point).
It was one of what turn out to be known as the Dawson's Field hijackings, Miriam Moss having been on the plane from Bahrain.
She is a children's author, but usually for younger ages. It wouldn't inspire me to seek her out further.
First line: A Forces child, that's what they call me.
Last line: I could be wrong, but I think I left it behind on that Revolutionary Airstrip, the one that lies just below the surface of the Jordanian Polo Club.
Dedication: For my family and in memory of my father and mother
Epigram: The vastest things are those we may not learn. / We are not taught to die or to be born / Nor how to burn / With love. / How pitiful is our enforced return / To those small things we are the masters of.
The cover is deliberately retro (front and back - back cover has a faded visa style to it), taking you back to the early 70s. White frame, slightly washed-out photo montage image, matt cover with spot varnish on the white text, typewriter/telex font for news/reportage feeling (though interestingly didn't go for that for the main title; you can understand why, but then might have been better not to have put the author name in the typewriter font, as the juxtaposition feels odd I think).