Henry Galio

Henry Galio writes the kind of books that get read twice.

Not because they're difficult. Because the second time, you notice something you missed.

His stories wander freely between wonder and mystery, laughter and loss. One day you're on a beach, naming a dragon with one crooked wing (The Sand Dragon). The next you're solving an impossible murder, trading the universe for someone you love (Mist), stepping through photographs into other lifetimes (The Image Traveler), walking the aisles of a library that shelves souls, or remembering a Christmas you thought you'd lost forever.

Henry doesn't believe readers belong in genres. He believes stories belong to readers.

Picture books and literary fiction. Mysteries and science fiction. Fantasy where the magic keeps its secrets, love stories where time itself gets out of the way, holiday tales, and the occasional wonderfully ridiculous comedy about spies, bugs, or a turkey with a phone. Every one of them begins with the same question:

What if one impossible thing were true?

He writes from Pennsylvania, where new ideas arrive faster than he can type them. When he isn't writing, he's usually cooking, wandering with a camera, exploring trails, or telling himself this book is the last one — right up until the next impossible thing walks in.

Start anywhere. The shelf connects.