By Sarah Silverwood, author of The Double-Edged Sword
The Double-Edged Sword is really about three things that I love – London, friendship and the sense of the
The Double-Edged Sword by Sarah Silverman
magical. I say 'magical' rather than 'magic' because this isn't a wizards and spells book (although I love those too.) I mean magical in the sense of there always being something interesting and breathtaking just around the corner, whether it be terrifying or otherwise. Magical in the way you look at the world when you're young and still believe you'll find Narnia at the back of wardrobe somewhere if you just keep trying. The kind of magical that life tries to knock out of you as you grow up. (A word of advice – don't let it. I still check wardrobes for Narnia and under the bed for the boogeyman – it's always better to be safe than sorry.)
London is a magical place. It's my favourite place in the whole world. I love that there are so many hidden places there – often in plain sight – if you just look carefully enough. There's history and story on every corner and in every brick. It's a melting pot of people and beliefs and it's never dull. Things happen in London. More than that, you can make things happen in London. I love London so much that in The Double-Edged Sword I've made more than one of them – despite what people say, you really can't have enough of a good thing – and I like to think that the two Londons that feature in this first book of the trilogy are both magical in their own ways. I hope that they'll make you look a little bit harder the next time you visit the capital and keep a weather eye open for all its quirky magic. But don't go down any dark alleyways alone in the less salubrious parts of town. Magical without danger would be dull – and London can be dangerous too.
The three main characters in the book, Finmere, Christopher and Joe are all school friends. There's a thing about the friendships you make at school that you don't realise until you're too old (and that's probably a good thing) – you'll never make such honest friends again. There are good kids and bad kids and snivellers and liars, just as there are with adults, but when you're at school and you make a best friend, there's something in that bond that you just can't repeat as an adult. Your school friends tell you when you're behaving like a twat. When you're an adult they really don't. Adults don't throw themselves as whole-heartedly into friendships as kids do (generalization I know, but work with me...) because by the time you're weighed down with a job and a mortgage, there just isn't time for that kind of intense friendship and the world has knocked that trust level out of you. Your school friends however are different. I remember vowing to be best friends FOREVER with my friends at school – and even though time and growing up have sent us on our separate ways, they probably still are the best friends I've had. We stood by each other through thick and thin. We shared adventures.
But Finmere, Christopher and Joe are sixteen. It's an interesting age, sixteen. Not quite grown up, but not a kid anymore either. They go into these adventures as solid school friends, but they're about to learn that adventures aren't just about fun. A good adventure has to have danger, just like anything magical. I hope their friendships are magical enough to see it all through intact.
