I'm reviewing Discombobulated and Other Poems ...

... by Michelle L Feltham.  Read on ...

I had the great pleasure of meeting poet Michelle Feltham a couple of months ago. Our conversation moved from general pleasantries about the weather to comments about travel and photography.  But it was when we started talking about our respective passions for writing and reading that Michelle told me she had a book of poems out.  Naturally, I couldn't let her mention that without further questions, could I?  And I am so glad I delved deeper.

Michelle had a copy of her book with her, and very kindly let me have a look.  As I quickly flicked through the pages and stopped to read a stanza here of a couple of verses there, I realised I wanted to have a copy of the whole book.  One of the things I love about poetry is that it is so succinct in nature that a couple of lines can be enough to speak a thousand words because whatever the sentiment, it is conveyed with such power and understanding.  Those couple of lines were in a poem called Armistice.

Back home again, and I searched Amazon for copy of the book.  A few days later, it arrived and, as I was travelling again the following week I took it with me.  The constant rattle of the train in no way marred my enjoyment of these little works of art.  The 37 poems are brigaded into sections, 'Politics' being the first, followed by 'Our Natural World' and running through the seasons, to finally end with 'Reflections'.  So you can dip in and out depending on your mood and the time available.  As my train journey was two hours, I started at the first poem, the Discombobulated of the title, and gradually worked my way through to the last one, Life After Death.

Some of the poems made me laugh, some made me pause for thought, and some I went back to read again.  But it was the revelation at the very end of the book that caused me to sit up and think.  My thoughts were finally interrupted by the announcement from the train guard that I had arrived at my destination.  As a three-year-old, Michelle suffered in a severe vehicle accident which resulted in brain damage along with numerous other injuries.  She was not expected to survive.  But she did, and it was a great honour to have been able to speak to her all those weeks ago and to get an insight into the heart and mind of a poet.

Do I have a favourite amongst this collection?  Not exactly, there were so many phrases and linked lines that seemed to echo so much about today's society, the wars that are being conducted, the general poverty we see around us, and the need to be mindful of others.  But I will leave you with a snippet from Life After Death.

And if ever you should feel bereft,

Close your eyes and see that I never really left,

'Cause at the end of my life as at the start,

I'll forever be right there inside your heart.

I really hope Michelle continues to craft words and sentences and that further books of poetry will be completed and become available in the future.  But for the moment, you can get Michelle's book in print or e-format on Amazon.  Just click the link.  Please also be aware that all proceeds from the sale of this book go to charity.

The characters we all love to hate …

Graphic courtesy of Clker Pixabay

… are often the very best characters to write. At least that’s how I feel about one of mine.  Read on …

All of my characters are very important to me.  I spend just as much time developing my ‘baddies’, who may only be around for one story, as I do my central characters who appear in all of the books.

So, Richard Laurent Delacroix, the Canadian nephew of old Guy Delacroix from the first book, Messandrierre, has had a chequered career!  He first appears in Merle (Book #2) with a backstory that is not detailed but certainly looks dodgy.  He’s not well-liked by the other villagers, and when he decides to stay, you can almost hear the sighs of disappointment from his French neighbours.

In Montbel (Book #3), Delacroix inveigles his way into the life of the village.  But, he also begins to show more of his character, and it becomes quite clear that he is prepared to not only swindle his enemies but his associates as well.  As he says in the book, ‘everything has a value’ and that capacity to drill everything down to some form of value for himself, not necessarily always monetary, is one of the key drivers of his personality.  As the story of Montbel unwinds, Delacriox proves himself to be manipulative and an accomplished liar.

As one reader put it when I was answering questions at an event, ‘Delacriox seems or have no moral compass…’.  And, at that time the statement was true.  I had deliberately planned that this character would be someone that we all loved to hate.  What I hadn’t reckoned on was the level of fun that I would get out of writing such a character.

When we get to Marseille (Book #4) Delacroix has seriously upped his game and is contemplating more complex ways of obtaining the ‘value’ that he so craves.  In one particular scene in this story, Delacriox demonstrates to his associates that he actually does have a ‘moral compass’.  It isn’t much of one, but it is there and openly stated as he directs how the next phase of work that he’s planning will be taken forward.

Of course, in Marseille, Jacques Forêt finally thwarts Delacroix.  I can honestly say that some readers were really disappointed that Delacroix was tamed, and I started getting questions about whether he might return in a later book.  At the time I said 'no' and I kept on saying that each time that question arose.  I really didn’t have any plans for Delacroix once Marseille was published.

But things change, and sometimes characters just won’t leave you, no matter how much you want them too.  The same is true for actors, too.  There are some characters I‘ve played on stage that I would still like to revisit in a new text – the wicked witch in Snow White, Grace in Entertaining Angels, Bella Donna in Hansel and Gretel, or Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream – to name just a few!  There was a dark side to each of these characters, and it was great fun exploring that, but also a personal loss when I had to divest myself of each of those characters once the curtain had come down on the final performance.

But the great thing about books, unlike the characters I’ve played on stage, is that I can live again in Delacroix’s head in another story.  So, if you’ve read Mazargues (Book #7) you will have come across a short paragraph right at the very end giving a hint for the future:

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.

 

THE END

And you can read more about Meyrueis if you just click the following links Meyrueis Part 1  Mayrueis Part 2  Life on the Causses

If you want to read my previous posts from my time following Robert Louis Stevenson through the Cévennes, then click Following Stevenson  

Travelling with Stevenson ...

... It has been quite a while since I last wrote a Stevenson post. But, after a trawl through my old journals from my numerous travels in the Cévennes, I've discovered a few nuggets of previously unpublished bits of info and, most surprisingly, a pic!  Read on ... 

On one of my earliest trips to Mende and the surrounding area, I came across a very odd-looking scene on a mountainside.  At that point, I didn't carry a camera with me everywhere I went.  So, I just quickly sketched what I could see in my notebook.  As I was thumbing through my notes from that trip, I came across the said sketch.  I had completely forgotten it was there.  I had also ignored the action point I gave myself at that time: Find out what these funny little trees really are.

Finally, I have done that research, the sketch is above, and an idea came into my head for a plot line as a result.  In Mazargues, one of the local farmers has an issue with wood being stolen from his copse of trees that sits at one edge of his land.  That character is Fermier Sallan.  It's Didier Duclos who takes charge of the investigation, and he brings it to the best conclusion he can under the circumstances.  But it's quite clear that Didier isn't really happy with how the matter is resolved.

In Meyrueis, Fermier Sallan turns up at Jacques' office in Mende along with his younger brother, Maurice.  It turns out that the Sallan family are being targeted again, but this time it's because of their bees.  Maurice Sallan's wife manages the bees and their hives.  She sells the honey in Mende and at markets in and around the area.  The day before the brothers come into town to see Jacques, one of the hives has been destroyed.  As always, Jacques takes on the case, and he and Didier go to the farm to see the real problem for themselves.

It was my research into the origins and use of the 'strange little trees' I had discovered on the hillside that day that came to my rescue when I needed a subplot for Meyrueis.  In the Cévennes, a particular type of bee is kept up on the slopes - the European Black Bee.  It is still a proper honey bee, but it is more hardy than the bees we see all over the UK.  It is particularly suited to the harsh climate of the mountainsides and, because of the uniqueness of the flora in the area, the resulting honey has a flavour all of its own.  A bit like the honey from Scotland, where the bees feed on the pollen from the heather.  Honey has been produced in the mountains of the Cévennes for centuries. You can still see vestiges of this in the national park where the ancient farming practices are preserved.  So there are no white painted square hives as we are used to seeing in the UK.  The hives are old chestnut tree trunks that are hollowed out and then set on a small plinth.  The bees create their colony in the space inside the trunk, and pieces of wood are laid on the top. The flat stone laid across each hive is there to keep it safe from the winds.

Along with the sketch in my notebook, I also jotted down a brief description, and the couple of phrases are the basis for a description that I gave to Jacques ...

'Coming out of the shade of a small stand of trees, Jacques saw that the hillside had some kind of stepped arrangement reaching up, the highest point already in the first light from the morning sun. On the terraces, he could see round tree trunks with what appeared to be large flat stones on top. They were arranged like a resting army in uneven ranks. Not all quite the same height or width. Not all standing perfectly upright.'

There will be more from Meyrueis and the Causse Here, and if you want to read my earlier posts click the links Meyrueis Part 1  Meyrueis Part 2

If you want to read about my time following Robert Louis Stevenson through the Cévennes, here's the link Following Stevenson

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 Here.  And you can catch up on previous posts by clicking the links  Meyrueis Part1  Following Stevenson

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 Here.

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