Val McDermid's latest novel, Fever of the Bone, is published by Little, Brown this week.
EMI, for instance, released Ms. Minogue's latest album "Fever" in the United States last month, and it made its debut at No. 3 on the Billboard charts.
From Barbara Comyns's Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead to Charles Burns's graphic novel Black Hole, books about mystery plagues tend to be disquieting in the extreme, and Megan Abbott's latest, The Fever (Picador, £14.99), is no exception.
The notes for my latest novel Fever of the Bone are interpolated with a list of plumbing supplies; a menu and shopping list for a weekend when we had a houseful of visitors; train times from Northumberland to Inverness.
Psychoanalysis may give the Chinese a vocabulary for discussing the effects of the Cultural Revolution, or the true costs of a frantic sprint to prosperity, or the toll of life under authoritarianism, but I find it hard to picture the latest Freud Fever lasting long here.
His latest paranoid fever dream is about my health.
Ruth Goetz, the co-author of "The Heiress," told her daughter that Gerry seemed "like a very brilliant child with a late-afternoon fever," and that's how I saw him too.
The account is a late 90s/early 2000s fever dream of trendy pastels and bottomless women (in both senses of the word).
It was a horrible day -- late start, fevers, tantrums at the doctor's office in front of judgy-eyed mothers, and you know how that cycle goes where our stress rubs off on each other until the day from hell feels like it will never end: the epitome of a shitty day for a mother of two under two.
The idea for award-winning crime writer Megan Abbott's latest novel, The Fever, came when she switched on her television one morning in late 2011.
His latest book is "Fever Swamp".
