Come stroll with me ...

… through the real town of Meyrueis …

As it’s April 1st I’m starting my #AprilAuthorChallenge here in the real town of Meyrueis, a place that has a population of around 800 inhabitants in the département of Lozère.  Situated close to the edge of the département, the town overlooks the confluence of three rivers, La Jonte, La Brèze and Le Béthuzon and nestles at one end of the Gorges de la Jonte.  It is bordered on the south by the foothills of Mont Aigoual and the Causse Méjean, a vast limestone plateau that towers over the valley, in the north.  With an elevation of around 611 metres (2005 feet if you prefer) above sea level and spot heights rising to 1562 metres (or 5125 feet), the town outstrips the highest peak here in Britain.  Our claim to fame in that respect, Ben Nevis, is a modest 4,413 feet.

Because of the nature of the geography, a steep river valley, the town is characteristically long and narrow but widens out as you get closer to the centre.  Leaving the car parked by the side of the road, it’s a pleasant walk along Quai de la Barrère, with houses on the right and the river on the left, into town.  I took the scenic route to get here, leaving Mende on the N88 and taking the D986 across the Causse.  At St-Enimie you can deviate and take the D907 to follow the Tarn Gorge if you wish.  As the La Jonte flows into the Tarn at La Rozier, you can still get to Meyrueis using that more circuitous path.  I wanted to explore the Causse as I have some scenes set in that specific landscape in book 7 and titles Meyrueis.

But let’s get back to the real Meyrueis and its fascinating and long history.  The earliest evidence of life in this gorge dates from prehistory, and excavations undertaken in the 1980s have discovered Gallo-Roman buildings dating from the first century.  Prior to that, the area was divided between various Celtic tribes.

Throughout history, the town has grown and prospered, the principal trades being sheep, wool, and the millinery industry.  The market here dates from 1033, and despite the various religious wars, the upheaval of changes of barony through conquest or marriage, and the revolution, the town has survived.  That tenacity is demonstrated in the mixture of architecture and buildings across the streets.

As I go from the outskirts along the quai to the bridge, I see a four-storey house on the far side of the river.  I like the look of the little garden, the steps up to the front door and the fact that there is a narrow stone bridge across the river at that point.  A perfect place for my victim's body to be found, I decide.  Except there’s just one little issue!  In reality, it is still quite a walk to get from here to the town centre.  But then, when one writes fiction, one can make things up or change things.  And that is what I decide to do – so that little bridge and the house, in my fictitious version of Meyrueis, are much closer to the centre of town than in real life.

As I meander along the quai, the hustle and bustle of the town becomes more evident – it’s market day today.  The restaurant on the right is filling up with mid-day diners; after all, it is after twelve.  The location of the eatery is perfect, I think, as the initial scene in the book begins to unfold in my head.  My character of Madame Rose-Marie Longuechampe was formed some time ago, but I ask myself as I pause to take in the street ahead, why is she leaving her house?

I continue on.  There’s a hotel on my left, and the road and buildings widen out from the bank of the river.  Here, there are market stalls and a plethora of people.  Neighbours stop to chat and greet each other, vendors call out prices and weights to their waiting customers. But my question is still running around unanswered in my head.

The street becomes Place Sully, another little bridge traverses the river, more shoppers move between the market stalls.  More shops, more eateries and then I espy the fully extended dark green canopy of the boulangerie et pâtisserie on my left.  Of course, I think, Madame Longuechampe is leaving her house to fetch the bread and cakes for the weekend!  I pop into the pâtisserie.  There are five other customers in front of me, all of whom turn to greet me as I come in.  An elderly gentleman pays his bill, and as I wait, I gaze at the cakes.  Today it will be a tartelette aux fraises.  My lunch securely packaged, I continue my exploration of the town.

At the top of Place Sully, there is yet another bridge and the Tourist Office.  I dive in and get a town map.  I also discover a little place to sit and eat with a view of the river and the bustle of the market.  As I sit there in the sunshine, it being late September there is a definite chill in the shade, I make a few more decisions.  The boulangerie et pâtisserie will have to move, too.  It’s too far away from where I’ve put Madame’s house.  Then I look at the Tourist Office, which is housed in the remains of the old town walls.  Should I rebuild some of the old fortifications in my version of the town or not?  I spend the next hour debating that question as the market traders begin to pack away their wares and the shoppers make their journeys home...

There will be more from the real Meyrueis and the Causse next week.

If you want to read my earlier posts about my time following Stevenson in the Cévennes, then click the link Following Stevenson

I'm reviewing The Lost king of France ...

 ... by Deborah Cadbury today.  Read on to discover my thoughts on this book ...

This book begins in April 1770 when Archduchess Maria Antonia left her family, home, and country to travel to France.  She was making her way to Versailles to be married to Louis-Charles, Duc de Normandie.  Naturally, being betrothed to the Dauphin meant that she would have to adapt to life in the French Court, and upon being accepted into the French Royal family, she became Marie-Antoinette.

Louis-Charles eventually acceded to the throne and became Louis XVI.  There were three surviving children, Marie-Thérèse, Louis-Joseph and his younger brother Louis-Charles.  One has to wonder what was going through Marie-Antoinette's mind as she travelled to France as a young teenager. Did she perhaps envisage the terrible fate that awaited her some twenty or so years later - probably not - but that journey must have been full of trepidation of one form or another.

The revolution took hold of Paris on July 14th, 1789 and then the rest of the country quickly afterwards.  There had been a significant period of societal unrest in advance of the storming of the Bastille, but the changes that were coming for the country, Marie-Antoinette and her family were harrowing and are still studied, written about and debated today, some 230 years later.  The Lost King of France charts the life of Louis-Charles, the boy who would have become Louis XVII and finally answer the many questions about what happened to that little boy.

I really enjoyed this piece of non-fiction on numerous levels.  First, it filled some of the gaps in my knowledge of French history generally.  Secondly, with the focus being the young Louis XVII, and through the author's rigorous research, it was fascinating to have a new insight into the revolutionary cause.  The privations that the dwindling members of the royal family suffered and the way they were treated sometimes made the reading difficult.  Ideology for the cause took precedence over common decency and humanitarianism.  Something, regrettably, that we are still witnessing across our modern and supposedly much more enlightened world today.  But man's capability for inhumanity to his fellow man is within us all.  It's just a question of making a choice.

Thirdly, the book looks at the aftermath of the revolution and the commencement of the Napoleonic age, along with the many pretenders to the throne of France.  Today, of course, with our leaps in technology and science, we can say definitively whether Louis XVII survived or died and whether the descendants of any of the pretenders to the throne have a bona fide claim or not.  I found that section of the book to be as fascinating as the earlier parts.

This is a riveting piece of history, narrated in a flowing and easily readable way.  Some of the subject matter is disturbing, but the 18th century was a turbulent time.  A book that thoroughly deserves its five stars.

Other book reviews include France: The Dark Years  France on Trial  The Vanished Collection  and Cursed Bread

I'm Off My Beaten Track in Casablanca ...

The vast city of Casablanca at twilight

 ... today.  I've been trawling through my journals and found some forgotten notes from my travels in North Africa.  Check out my thoughts from that time ...

MOROCCO MEMOS

'... I opened the curtains in Casablanca to the spectacular view of towers of containers and the wall of the dock.  Not quite what I had been expecting.  My imagined view of the city was all based on the black and white movie of the same name with Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid that was released in 1943.  I’d somehow lost myself in the romance of the story and Rick’s Bar.  The real and immediate view from the window of my cabin kinda shot an Exocet missile through the imagined!  But there’s still Risk’s Bar, I told myself in consolation as I meandered along to breakfast, my trusty travel guide in hand to read over coffee...'

This modern city, with a population of more than 4.2 million, boasts of being the largest urban development, the chief port, and the economic and business centre of Morocco. What I encountered and described in my journal was something a little different.  Read on ...

'... as I got off the supplied transport to take us into town, I and my fellow travellers were immediately besieged by men wanting to entice us into their taxis to drive us across and around the town.  Taking ‘No thank you’ for an answer was something unheard of and clearly unacceptable here.  I just kept walking across the vast square to be free of the constant barracking....'

'... as I meandered along the streets I saw derelict buildings next to French Colonial edifices next to 21^st century empty new builds.  Jay walking is inviting a death sentence, and at the standard, marked and managed crossings are just as dangerous.  No-one gives any quarter here.  The standard of driving is the same as I witnessed in Egypt decades ago, it’s just that everything today happens at a much greater speed with absolutely no regard for the green agenda.  Chaos without even a glimmer of organisation to temper it...

'... I eventually discovered the souk and stepped beneath its ramshackle roof.  Lots of little ‘shops’ in every inch of space and lots of stall-holders, again all men, barracking and clamouring for your attention and offering a ‘good price’.  Then a Vespa came storming down the narrow alleyway – it was the first of a number and it became apparent that this was the norm.  I made my way out and back onto the wide streets where there was no-one to bother me with whatever they wanted to sell.  My peace didn’t last long as I made the mistake of turning to look at a mobile stall selling nothing but oranges.  I was barracked again and just ran a few steps ahead to get away.  It seems the standard European art of browsing is an absolute no-no here...'

'A little further on I come across a plaque above an old doorway.  I tried the door, it was firmly locked, but the content of the inscription above was intriguing. I make a mental note to check it out when I can ...'

'... And as for Rick’s bar – that’s not real.  It only ever existed in a studio in Hollywood.  The Rick’s Café, here in Casablanca, was only inspired by the bar in the film.  Another disappointment...'

'... making my way across the square and I’m barracked again.  Luckily, I spy the laid on transport and I decide that enough of this city is more than enough.  It seems that my fellow travellers feel the same way as there are hardly any seats left ...'

There will be more from my journals in the coming weeks and months.  Keep watching this space...

Join me on an #AprilAuthorChallenge ...

 ... and learn much more about the next book in Jacques Forêt Mystery series ...

Every day throughout the month of April I will be posting across all of my social media about book 7 in the Jacques Forêt Mysteries. Check out the list of aspects in connection with the book on the right.  

For the moment, all I'm going to tell you is that the title is Meyrueis.  It's late summer and Lucien, Jacques Forêt's son, is in England staying with his grandmother and his uncles as the story begins.  The timing is only a few weeks after the end of Mazargues.  The crime featured in this book is a very different one from that in Mazargues.  As such, it has been great fun doing all the research necessary for the story.  And a lot more research that I will probably never use!  But that's how it goes - you find an answer to one question which generates other questions and suddenly, your whole day has been spent in the library or on Google!  I so love this job!

For the next story, there will be new characters along with Jacques, Didier and all of their old colleagues.  There will be characters who return, as did one particular individual at the end of Mazargues.  Check out the extract below :

and then…

 

A heavy postern gate slammed shut behind a tall, broad-shouldered and muscled man. He swept his hand through his thick silver-grey hair and donned a black fedora. He glanced across at a waiting car, a silver Mercedes, and smiled. Striding out, he crossed the open space, moved towards the car, opened the passenger door and got in.

“I’ll need a new name,” he said.

There will be more about him during April!

Rivers of France…

Image by Philippe Fuchs, Pixabay

… I’m continuing my trip along La Loire and stopping here in Nevers, today. Come and join me …

Leaving Digoin behind, the river meanders in a north-westerly direction until it hits the southern edge of the city of Nevers.  It takes a sharp turn south for a short distance and then west to meet the river Allier.  Like La Loire, the Allier also rises in the Cévennes, to the east of the city of Mende, and flows generally north for 421 kilometers (262 miles) until it meets the Loire.  The Allier is also the thirteenth longest river in the country, and is on my list of other rivers to explore.  Watch out for further posts in the future.

Nevers is a very old city.  Way back in 52 BCE, Julius Caesar made the fortified town into an important storage depot and stronghold for his army. However, at that particular time, Nevers (original name Noviodunum), was situated on the borders of territory ruled over by a warring local tribe who attacked, destroyed the camp by fire and put Caesar’s position in Gaul at risk.  But there’s much more to this city than a bit of Roman history.  Moving forward to the 16th century, Luigi di Gonzaga, the third son of the Duke of Mantua became the Duc de Nevers in 1565.  He brought with him his own ‘army’ of artists and artisans from Italy.  He established the spun glass industry in the city, introduced artistic pottery and established the art of enamelling.  The products created as a result of Gonzaga’s investment and encouragement were sent by river as far afield as Orléans and Angers.  By the middle of the century, the pottery/glass industry was at its height with numerous workshops and thousands of craftsmen employed.

Regrettably, the revolution in 1789, changed everything.  Today there are only remnants of those glory days left, along with a fabulous collection of pottery and glass at the local museum that is well worth a visit.

From the banks of the river, if you head into the city centre, it’s about a twenty minute walk to rue Saint-Gildard.  On this street you will find the resting place of perhaps one of the most famous women in France – Marie-Bernarde Soubirous, a miller’s daughter and the eldest of nine children.  She was born into poverty in Lourdes, suffered various ailments as a child and became Saint Bernadette following her visions.

Born in 1844, she took the religious habit of a postulant twenty-two years later and joined the Sisters of Charity at their motherhouse here in Nevers.  On April 16th, 1879, she died and is laid to rest here in what was then the convent.  In 1970, the motherhouse was converted to a centre for pilgrimage, the Espace Bernadette Soubirous, that is now run by volunteers and a very small number of nuns. Bernadatte has her resting place inside a stunning glass and gold casket.

The order of nuns in Nevers is also famous for a much more mundane reason.  And if you want to find out about that then check out my post from a while ago, Here.

There will be more about La Loire, on May 6th as I will be undertaking an #AprilAuthorChallenge next month.  If you want to catch up on posts you may have missed, click the following links La Loire Digoin  River Le Loir

I'm reviewing The Earl's Marriage Dilemma ...

 ... by Sarah Mallory.  Read on to find out more about this Regency romance...

There is nothing I like more than a really gripping Regency Romance when I have time to read at home.  And it's usually only over holiday weekends when I can fit in that bit of me-time required to indulge in a good book.

It was a great pleasure to pick up another of Sarah Mallory's books over the Christmas and New Year break.  What a great read this is.

The story begins with Conham Mortlake, Earl Dallamire, in a strop.  His mistress of six months has refused his proposal of marriage because, as she puts it, his fortune is 'nonexistent', his estate is 'riddled with debts', and his latest inheritance is an 'insignificant property' along with a few acres of land near Bristol!

Cutting, I thought, but of course, back in the eighteenth century, marriage was much more of a contract between families than it is today.  Unfortunately for Conham, that lady's assessment of his predicament is only too accurate, and as a wealthy widow, she can exercise a certain amount of choice.

In the deepest vortex of his strop, as he strides through the town, Conham bumps into Rosina Brackwood and steps up to help her.  As I hadn't initially taken to Earl Dallamire, I was pleased to discover that he did have some positive traits.  The chance meeting sets in place an association between Miss Brackwood and the Earl that twists and turns in its fortunes and misadventures throughout the pages of the book.

It transpires that Miss Brackwood is an excellent land/estate manager.  Conham is in much need of such expertise.  At a time when women were expected to be only wives, mothers, and managers of households, Rosina's capabilities and aptitudes make for a very refreshing character.  I immediately warmed to her and her ideas about resolving some of the issues with Conham's estate.

It was also the business aspects of this tale - can the gardens be made profitable again, can the estate become solvent - that I found particularly interesting and enjoyable as Rosina, with the help of Matt Talacre - an ex-army colleague of Conham's - and support from Conham himself.  It added an extra dimension and fizz to the relationship between Conham and Rosina.

If you want to know if there is a happy-ever-after for Rosina and Conham, then you will have to read the book.  But, I can guarantee that you will have a thoroughly enjoyable and absorbing read as you work out the answer for yourself.

You can get the book Here

I'm Off My Beaten Track in Leeds ...

... today.  Come and join me as I make a visit to an absolute gem of a place for book lovers everywhere - The Leeds Library on Commercial Street, right in the city centre.  Read on ...

If, like me, you have a 'thing' about books, then you will want to know about this hidden little gem that sits in the heart of Leeds city centre.  It's an easy few steps from the train station along Boar Lane and then take a left to intersect with Commercial Street.  The full address is 18 Commercial Street.  You can so easily miss the place because, at street level, it is nothing but an archway entrance between the Co-op on one side and shops on the other.  But there is a Blue Plaque to guide you and ensure you choose the right arch to enter through.

The old-fashioned wood and glass-panelled doors at the entrance are the first indicators of the treasure you will find inside, and not everyone can just walk in.  I was there for a specific event a couple of weeks ago with some author colleagues.

The foyer on the other side of the doors has glass cases in which some of the most treasured books held by the library are on display.  Naturally, rather than getting on with the actual tasks that I needed to do in support of the event, I dallied at the display cases.  I read the pages on display and the notes accompanying the books.  When I turned to look to my right, I was met with a wall of old books carefully placed on bookshelves that were behind protective glass. 'Darn it', I thought.  Nevertheless, I just could not pass those books by.

The foyer leads to stairs - wide stone steps that circle around and reach up to other floors with a dome to let in light above.  Eventually, we reached our destination, a large room with tables and chairs, green leather wing-backed chairs in corners and walls full of books.  Not that the books in my immediate sphere of gaze were my special interest at that point.  Above the floor where I stood was a gallery that ran along all four walls, and this was also a repository for books, old books, leather-bound and buckram-bound books, some with tooled spines, but all of them telling me I had to come and explore that space.

And I did.  In the poetry section, I found Longfellow's Hiawatha beautifully bound in navy blue leather with gold tooling for the title on the spine and the decoration on the front.  That took me back to a school adaption of the poem for stage, and for a moment, I was 9 years old again and dressed in my costume of beige trousers and tunic with a feather in my hair.  As I lost myself in the character of Hiawatha, some of my lines came back to me, 'On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water...'

I moved to another section of the shelves and discovered buckram-bound copies of Hardy's poetry and short stories.  Stevenson's compendium of poetry, also leather-bound.  There were copies of Cowper's poetry and White's and many, many others.

Regrettably, I had to leave that haven of book history and go back down the stairs to the main room and help prepare for the event - which went well.  We all had the great privilege of meeting some members of the library, and I, for one, had some lovely conversations with some readers, too.

Sadly, I had to leave those fabulous surroundings eventually, and the management wouldn't let me move in!  This is not surprising, really, when you consider that The Leeds Library was founded in 1768, and its extensive collection holds books from that date and throughout the succeeding decades.  In addition, it is the oldest surviving subscription library in the UK.  When you take that into account, it seems quite fitting to me that the library has been housed in a Grade II listing building that has been carefully preserved since 1808.  Let's hope it remains here for the continuing future.

You can find out more about, or arrange to visit, The Leeds Library Here

The event I attended was Tea and Trenchcoat Trio, and you can find details of other events I'm involved with on my Website