Come stroll with me…

… across the Causse that overlooks the town of Meyrueis as part of my #AprilAuthorChallenge…

I'm continuing my travels and I’m picking up from where I left you last week on the blog – sitting, having lunch in the real town of Meyrueis as I considered whether I should rebuild some of the old town walls for my fictional version of the place.

Although my lunch is finished, my internal debate isn’t.  I decide to leave it at that and make my way up onto the Causse that overlooks and dwarfs the town.  I have some scenes that will fit the unique landscape of these vast limestone plateaux.  From Meyrueis I take the D996 heading north-east out of town.  On the outkirts, I take a left on the D986 which traverses the Causse Méjean and head towards Hures-la-Parade.

The Causses, and there are quite a number spread across the whole of France, are vast limestone plateaux that range in height from 550 metres (1800 feet) to 1250 metres (4,100 feet) above sea level.  They were formed during the Second Geological Era, that’s about 250 million years ago.  Yeah, I know.  Seriously, big numbers are impossible to rationalise and understand, aren’t they?  But way back in that time, this area was a vast sea.  After about 70 million years, the sea began to retreat – I guess we had a form of global warming even then! – leaving behind various sediments and deposits.  At some point in the Tertiary Era (that’s between 66 million and 2.6 million years ago) the Tectonic plates had a bit of a barney with each other, the limestone plateau left by the sea was lifted, the Alps appeared, the limestone fractured creating vast gorges and the basis of the landscape that can be seen today was formed.  The rest is all down to 2.5 million years of weather and erosion.  Limestone is quite friable and porous, and it suffers from our changing seasons – rain in spring, freezing winters, damaging winds throughout the year.

Despite the difficult birth of the Causses, the landscape has supported sheep and cattle farming since at least the Bronze age.  It was during these times that the ancient process of what we now refer to as Transhumance was established.  The roads up to and across the Causses have their basis in the old drovers’ roads that enabled early farmers to feed their animals on the grass of the cooler high plateaux and sell the animals at the appropriate maturity in local markets.  The success of living on and around the plateaux led to the establishment of small villages in the lower gorges.

As I meander across this particular plateau, I see single-story farmhouses created from the local rock – mostly limestone.  The habitation here is sparse.  The trees are few and the clumps of low-level scrub are the only features.  As I look across the causse, I see a vast and barely undulating field of pale green with patches of small low-level mountain flowers providing the last vestiges of summer’s colour.  At the horizon I see sky and far distant mountains.  For a child of the Yorkshire Dales and the rolling green and treed countryside of the bit of the county where I now live, the scenery of the Causse Méjean has a meagre palette of colour.  The wind blows through the grass of the plain, creating constant movement and making the flowers dance.  There’s a seemingly ever-present low murmur as the breeze slips by.

The specific kind of silence here, the lack of habitation and passers-by make this a perfect backdrop for a plotline that I’m considering.

There will be more from Meyrueis and the Causse in next week's post.  Keep watching this space.

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 titled 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  

Please welcome friend and author, Raphael Sóne ...

... to the blog this week.  Hi Raphael, and thanks very much for making time in your busy schedule to be here.  Tell me, what is your current release?

RS The Corisco Conspiracy.  It is subtitled A Memoir of William Shakespeare.

AW That sounds intriguing!  What first got you into writing and why?

RS I’ve always enjoyed learning languages and reading about them.  It was a short step from that attraction to falling in love with literature, particularly English literature, and ultimately dreaming of becoming an author.

AW Your book is historical fiction, but it features the namesakes of real people from history. Was all of your story imagination?

RS Far from it.  My novel is a sub-sub-genre: biographical historical fiction.  (One reviewer has called it “fanfiction.”)  The narrator and protagonist is William Shakespeare.  Naturally, most of my other characters are his real-life contemporaries.

The speculations that the Bard might have been a crypto-Catholic are well-founded.  Hence, my novel is fiction only in so far as I imagined him to be a Jesuit secret agent in the employ of the Spanish navy.  He lived in turbulent times and produced some of the greatest works in world literature.  Yet virtually nothing is known about his private life.  Picturing him in the Catholic underground of Elizabethan and Jacobean England isn’t a far-fetched idea.  Chris Marlowe was a government spy.  Will Shakespeare could very well have been a “counterintelligence operative.”

AW Fascinating.  Have you tried your hand at, or dabbled in, other genres or writing for other forms of media?

RS Yes.  I wrote published poems and one award-winning play as a pastime in my salad days.

AW  Ah.  'Salad Days, when I was green in judgement'.  A quote from Antony and Cleopatra, I think!  Famous authors such as Roald Dahl and Dylan Thomas had special spaces for writing. Do you have a writing ‘shed’ of your own?

RS No.  No writing nook for me.  My muse is a gypsy.  That fact and my having done some acting as a young man are reflected in the way I write.  Actually, what I do would be better described as composing.  I “compose” on the go – wherever and whenever the spirit moves me.  When I sit at my desk, it is not to think, but merely to type whole passages or dialogues that I have already “written” in my mind.  To me, writing is a series of daydreaming seizures. And I am as likely to have one in a rowdy sports arena as in the hermetic silence of a cell in a monastery.

AW And finally, what would your eight-year-old self think and say about you and your achievements today?

RS Better late than never.  But it would have been wiser of you to answer your true calling from the time, around the age of six, that you discovered the pleasure of curling up with a book.

AW I guess eight-year-old you was a tough little guy back then!

about the author ... Raphael Sóne is the bardolator who writes the Musketman Shakespeare blog.  He was born and raised in Cameroon, attended Bishop Rogan College (Buea) and received his postsecondary education in Canada, where he has lived for most of his adult life. The Corisco Conspiracy is his first historical novel.  It was originally entitled The War Memoirs of William Shakespeare.  Raphael lives in Mexico when the wind is southerly, and in Canada when it is northerly.

about the book ... When Spain invaded Protestant England in 1588, William Shakespeare, then aged 24, was a Catholic spy employed as a recruitment officer by the Spanish navy.  The Corisco Conspiracy is his riveting firsthand account of the chain of misadventures that led him from the Spanish Armada, by way of West Africa, to the Gunpowder Plot (the conspiracy of the title), of which, it turns out, he was the mastermind.  In her review of the Bard’s memoir in Oxford Prospect Arts, author and historian Doctor Julia Gasper says it is “Bold and inventive far beyond any other version of Shakespeare’s life.”

You can follow Raphael on Goodreads and, in his guise as Musketman Shakespeare, on Facebook  Instagram Twitter and his Blog

You can get the book on Amazon and from the publisher Austin Macauley and other online booksellers.

Rivers of France ...

Image by Loyloy Thal, Pixabay

… I’m beginning my trip along La Loire here in Digoin today. Come and join me …

Digoin is a small town of around 8,000 inhabitants.  It sits in the département of Saône-et-Loire with the river La Loire flowing on the edge of the southern border of the town.  La Loire, at this point, and for a fair distance northwards, pretty much creates a natural border between Saône-et-Loire and its next-door neighbour, Allier, named after yet another great river of France.

But the river is not the only reason to visit.  Close to Digoin, the Canal du Centre–opened in 1792 and 122 kilometres in length–meets the Canal latéral à la Loire–opened in 1838 and 196 kilometres in length.  In addition, there are two crossings over La Loire, a road bridge and a canal bridge.  That particular piece of engineering is my real reason for stopping here.  The only access to the canal bridge is either by foot or by boat.  Luckily, the campsite isn’t too far away, and I can take a leisurely stroll through town on my way.

At the heart of the town is the church, Notre-Dame de la Providence.  Romanesque-Byzantine in style and completed in the late nineteenth century, it was built to replace the original and cramped romanesque church that once stood here.  Some later additions–the tympanums-the heavily carved scenes above the three entrances were completed in the 1970s.  In terms of age and history, this particular religious edifice is far newer than the places I usually visit.  But, architecturally, it is of interest.

As I meander through town, I find a baker's and, lunch today is strawberry tart, which I will eat over by the river.  My stroll takes me through Place de la République.  A large square that is fairly quiet.  Come here in August, and the story will be very different.  This square becomes the focus for the Escargot de Bourgogne festival.  You can eat snails for a whole three days if you wish and the town will be full to overflowing with people.  Personally, I’ll pass on that.  Not that I have anything against snails per se; I just don’t want to eat them!

From the Snail Fair, you can continue down the main street, and eventually, you will come out on Place de la Grève.  En route, you will pass the Tourist Office, and it’s worth calling in to get the local leaflet with its detailed map for a walking route through town.  Place de la Grève runs along the river, and from here, you have a fabulous view of the canal bridge.  But, for centuries, this little town has been known as one of the most important ports in Burgundy.  On a map dating from the 16th century, you can find Port of ‘Goin’.  Regrettably, all that remains of that illustrious past is the name of the street.

Walk a little further on towards the canal bridge, and you will find what remains of an old ceramics warehouse.  In the nineteenth century, Digoin was renowned for its ceramics and earthenware.  At the time, the canals and the river supported the delivery of supplies of clay and materials to create the pottery goods that were then distributed using the same watery routes.

A little further along the river, you can access the canal bridge.  It is supported by 11 arches at a height of 12 meters above the water and a length of 243 metres.  The engineer Adolphe Julien was responsible for its design.  It took three years to build and was finally completed in 1837.  Here we are in the twenty-first century and two European wars later, and craft, mostly for pleasure today, are still crossing this amazing piece of engineering.

This post links with my earlier post from last month, which you can read Here

If you want to know more about the brother river Le Loir, check out the first post Here 

I'm very pleased to announce ...

... that, after much searching, I have finally found a new publisher. Read on for more details ...

Last year, Darkstroke Books decided to leave the publishing business.  They formally closed the company on September 30th.  My Jacques Forêt series of mysteries were written, pored over, edited and published during my eight years with them.  Darkstroke also provided me with opportunities to try my hand at other types of writing.  The Dark World series of charity anthologies they instigated and published became the perfect place for Le Corbeau Blanc and Treading - two short stories in very different genres.  The first is a monologue spoken by the spirit of a white raven (yes, I know, really weird!), and the second is a historical mystery about Deal Porters on the docks in London.  I doubt I could have placed either of those pieces of writing anywhere had it not been for Darkstroke.  To say that I will miss everyone at Darkstroke is a massive understatement.  I cut my writing teeth with that publisher and alongside a cadre of excellent authors.  Luckily, I remain connected to my previous colleagues through social media and occasionally catch up with some of them in person, too.

But things change.  Being faced with finding a new publisher was very daunting.  I rarely, if ever, walk away from a challenge, no matter how difficult it may seem at the outset.  As a result, I am very pleased to say that I have signed a contract with Northodox Press.  The company describes itself as 'an independent publisher established in 2020, based in Sheffield and Manchester.'  Their stated mission is 'to elevate northern voices and represent the diversity of writing from Northern England.'  As a Yorkshire lass, born and bred, there was no way I could walk away from that!  I am overwhelmed that Northodox think that my cosy little mysteries are worth their investment.  I am also looking forward to what I hope will be a long and fruitful working association.

In practical terms, all of this means that my Jacques Forêt stories will be republished over the coming weeks and months.  I will, of course, update readers about the publishing schedule once it is finalised.  A new contract also means that the seventh book, Meyrueis, will be published later this year, and the following two books now have a publishing home as well.  I can not begin to describe the sense of relief that I feel knowing that Jacques, his son, his colleagues and the villagers of Messandrierre are in the safe hands of Northodox Press.  For me, there could not have been a more fitting start to 2025.

If you are also a writer who lives in, or is from the north of England and want to know more about Northodox, then check out their website Here

If you want to know more about Meyrueis, please watch this space and, in particular, look out for my April Author Challenge.

Rivers of France…

…I’m beginning my journey along the river La Loire today. Read on…

Last July I started this new series with the idea that I would champion the ‘His and Hers’ rivers of France. My first post, which you can read Here, took readers along the length of Le Loir. Today, I’m back with the commencement of a journey along the length of the sister river, La Loire.

At 1,006 kilometres (that’s 625 miles) in length, La Loire is the longest river in France. It is also a fleuve rather than a rivière. A fleuve is a river that flows into the sea. A rivière flows from its source into one or more other rivers or fleuves. In that respect, La Loire has got points over her little brother! The river drains over 45,000 square miles of land, which represents more than a fifth of the country's total area. In addition, she gives her name to six different départements, but she flows through a total of twelve of them on the journey from her source in the Cévennes to the Atlantic Ocean at St-Nazaire.

La Loire rises at 1,350 metres (4,430 feet) above sea level on one side of Le Gerbier de Jonc in the département of Ardèche in the north-eastern quarter of the fabulously rugged scenery of the Cévennes. The nearest town is Ste-Eulalie. At this point, the river is a shadow of its more mature self. From the Cévennes, the river flows pretty much north until it reaches Orléans, where she takes a left-turn and continues her route to the northwest
corner of the Bay of Biscay.

At its source, it’s a particularly disappointing pool of brownish water. The river meanders down and around the mountain in a mostly northerly fashion. Because of the varied geography of the route of the river it is divided into sections. The upper reaches stretch from the source to its confluence with the Allier. This is the least navigable part of the river, which runs through a steep, narrow valley that is heavily wooded. The middle section runs from the confluence with the Allier across a much broader alluvial plain to the confluence with the river Maine. The final section is from the Maine to the estuary, where the river flows into the sea. It is these latter two sections that I will be travelling along for the most part.

For my next post, I will be taking you to Digoin, a small town that sits on the river La Loire, a little before meeting the Allier on one side of Nevers. I hope you will join me on February 4th

If you would like to read my journey along Le Loir, just click the links below…

Châteaudun  Vendôme  Vendôme part 2  Montoire-sur-le-Loir  La Flèche and Durtal

Another year begins ...

... and it will undoubtedly bring new challenges, opportunities, and perhaps some disappointments, too.  But January is also a significant turning point.  I believe it was the Romans who portrayed their god Janus as having two faces – one looking back and the second looking in the opposite direction.  He was seen as the god of beginnings, transitions and gateways.  Indeed, in the city of Rome there is a large archway, Arco di Giano, that once stood at one side of an open space.  Janus also presided over the beginning and ending of conflict.  During war, the city gates were closed, and when peace returned, the city gates were re-opened.  For me, January is a time for reflection and an opportunity to consider what the future might bring.
Last year was difficult, both professionally and personally.  Professionally, I had to find a new publisher for my books after Darkstroke made the difficult decision to quit the industry.  The search for new representation for my stories took a lot of time and effort throughout 2024. Finally, I am very pleased to say that I am hoping to have some exciting news in the very near future.
Personally, 2024 brought sadness, worry, and the loss of two close friends.  Regrettably, this new year is already tinged with some of the same melancholy.
Despite that, there is a whole calendar of time ahead, and I’ve put in place some great plans.  The #RiversofFrance series of posts will continue, and I will be taking readers along the length of La Loire.  We will begin our journey before the end of this month.  There will be fabulous châteaux to visit, scenery to explore and plenty of little towns and villages with their own odd bits of history hidden in the streets and buildings.  And no doubt there will be visits to various pâtisseries along the way!
Other authors will occasionally visit the blog.  In February, I will be introducing you to Raphael Sóne, author of The Corisco Conspiracy.  I will follow that up in March with a guest post from Bill Yarborough who will be telling us all about his latest book.

As always, I have some really interesting books for review.  The first of these is The Lost King of France.  Look out for that post in February.

There will be news about Jacques Forêt's next case, Meyrueis.  This is the seventh mystery in the series, and it has been lodged in the back of my mind for far too long.  Finding a new publisher took precedence last year.  As I'm now back at my writing desk, look out for my writing challenge in April, when I will be posting daily about books, writing, and Jacques's next story.

In addition, 2025 is shaping up to be a busy year with various bookselling and book-speaking events.  The first of these is on February 5th.  I hope you will be able to join me, Gianetta Murray and Ann Wedgwood as we discuss cosy crime writing at Leeds Central Library at 6:00 p.m.  It would be really great to see you there if you can make it.  The link to book your place at the event is Here   

As always, the #FranceFridayPhotos will continue throughout this year and beyond, interspersed with shots from #OffMyBeatenTrack travels.  In that respect, I have some interesting locations already planned for visits.

To start this year's series of photos, the shot above is the river Sarthe at Sablé (72) in northwestern France.

It's great to be back and I hope you will continue reading the blog ...

Just to wish you all...

... a peaceful and happy New Year for ...