I'm reviewing Fractured France...

 ... by Andrew Hussey on my blog today.  An interesting take on our neighbour across the Channel.  Read on ...

The author of this tome is a journalist, biographer, lecturer and historian of French culture who appears regularly on radio and TV and is definitely the man to consult about twentieth-century France.  He was awarded an OBE in 2011 for his work and writings on France and his services to UK-France cultural relations.  He was appointed Dean of the University of London Institute in Paris in 2006.

So, when I picked this book off the shelf at Waterstones, I was very much aware that I would be reading the work of someone who actually knew what he was talking about.  Born in Liverpool, Hussey now lives in Paris, and his book takes the reader on a journey through the country from the industrial north through to the Mediterranean coast and the multi-cultural city of Marseille.  We see the country in its many guises and experience its cultural changes through the eyes of a man who has lived in, studied, and observed his adopted country over many years.

The book is part memoir, part travel log, and part observation and assessment.  With my well-used map easily to hand, I followed Hussey's journey from city to city.  It was especially interesting to me to read his views on each location.  I also found myself musing on his comments and conclusions, comparing them with my own thoughts and feelings about a country I have spent so much time in.  The fissures he sees in French city society are there in rural France, too.  Perhaps not quite so obviously, but the country is changing and has been for some time.  On revisiting Revin - a small town in le Grand Est - after an absence of ten or so years, the change in the population's composition was very marked.  On market day, the town was full, as expected, but the stalls were much more multi-cultural than traditionally French.  The numerous small individual shops had been depleted by the emergence of the out-of-town supermarkets, and the ethnicity of the local people was significantly more diverse than before.  There was a tension there, too, that I had not felt or witnessed anywhere else... until I went to Marseille a few years later.

Hussey completes his journey in what he calls the 'wicked city' of Marseille before returning to his Paris bolthole.  Marseille is one of the oldest cities in France and perhaps the most multi-cultural.  I believe I once said that, in Marseille, 'you can eat in any one of a hundred different languages'.  Having read Hussey's chapter on this 'wicked city', it is clear that this is still the case.  It was here a few years ago that I came across the Gilets Jaunes and the riot police lining the street I had inadvertently strayed into.  I scarpered quick sharp!  Hussey aptly describes this massive conurbation as a city of 'perpetual comings and goings'.  The vast port area brings in immigrants - some legal, a significant number not - freight, cruise and naval ships.  The quartiers nord, with a population of almost 250,000, is still one of the poorest, most ethnically diverse and most dangerous parts of the city.  It clearly hasn't changed since I was last there.

This book is fascinating, but for those hoping for an easy and joyful read, I think you will be disappointed for the most part.  This is an expose of a changing society across a large country.  Whilst I could identify with some of the fissures highlighted by Hussey, I also mourned some aspects of Frenchness that were on the brink of disappearing.  Regrettably, Hussey offers no solutions, but his keen-eyed observation and assessment still make this a thought-provoking read.

If you enjoyed this review, you might also be interested in my reviews of France on Trial,  The Lost King of France, or The Paris Muse

Please welcome, friend and author, Catherine Brooks ...

... to the blog this week.  Hello Catherine, and thank you for being here today.  It's great to meet you.  So, tell me what is your current release?

CB  The Soldier and the Swan.

AW What first got you into writing and why?

CB  I started reading a book from the "New Releases" section at my local library.  After the first chapter, I remember thinking, that's not what happens.  I put the book down and spent the next few years daydreaming about how the story should have gone.  Eventually, I decided to write it myself.  That became my first novel, though it will probably never be published.

AW You write historical romance; is it all imagination, or do you do research?

CB I do a lot of research, but probably not in the order most people expect.  I usually write the emotional story first and then dive into the historical details.  For The Soldier and the Swan, I researched 1940's San Francisco, ballet, and Swan Lake.  The history gives the story its foundation, but for me it's always the relationships that matter most.

AW Have you tried/dabbled with other genres or writing for other forms of media?

CB My first book was a romantasy.  Creating an entirely new world while learning to write a novel was a challenge.  Looking back, I'm glad I started there because it forced me to learn so much about storytelling.

AW Famous authors such as Roald Dahl and Dylan Thomas had a special space for writing. Do you have a writing shed of your own?

CB I write from the smallest corner of my house on a papasan chair cushion.  The dog thinks it’s a giant dog bed and that’s kind of what it looks like.  I find my children in this corner reading a lot.  It's nothing fancy, but it's comfortable, and apparently everyone in the family agrees.

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

CB My eight-year-old self is sitting beside my mother at the typewriter, writing a story about a mermaid and a sunken ship.  I don't think she'd be nearly as surprised as my teenage self, who became afraid and started believing she wasn’t good enough.  My eight-year-old self would just shrug, smile, and say, "Figures."

about the book... She gave up the stage for love.

Now the man she married barely looks at her.

A love story inspired by Swan Lake.

San Francisco, 1943: Vivienne Hartley was once San Francisco's most celebrated prima ballerina.  But when her husband, Charlie, returns home wounded from the war, she gives up her dreams to care for him.  The man she married has become a shell of the man she once loved.  As Charlie withdraws further into himself, Vivienne tries to become the wife she believes he needs until she barely recognises herself anymore.

When Charlie's younger brother, Danny, returns home, he sees the woman beneath the caregiver and challenges her to audition for Swan Lake.  As rehearsals begin, Vivienne rediscovers the life she thought she'd buried forever.  But the more she finds herself again, the harder it becomes to ignore the impossible truth.

The only man who truly sees her...is the one she can never have.

about the author...

Catherine Brooks writes novels with love at the centre. As a former ballet dancer, registered nurse, and caregiver, she draws on her own experiences to write stories with emotional honesty. The Soldier and the Swan is her debut novel.

An Arizona native, she lives with her husband and two children, a diva dog, a very hungry tortoise, and a bird named Sprinkles.

You can buy the book on Amazon, Audible, Spotify, and Barnes and Noble

You can follow Catherine on her Amazon Author Page on Facebook and on Instagram

I am very pleased to tell you that a new book ...

 ... is on its way. Read on to find out more ... 

As a member of Doncaster Writers' Group, I've been involved in various discussions about writing stories, and even producing an anthology composed solely of the work of the group members.  Well, I'm very pleased to be able to say that what was once a pipe dream will soon turn into a reality.

We talked through the original idea and developed a plan to keep us all on track.  As is often the case with plans that rely on people giving their time for free in support of the project, real life gets in the way, and sometimes delays are unavoidable.  But what I'm really pleased to be able to say today is that the anthology, The Magic of Danum, will be hitting the streets in the early autumn.  

The collection of stories is set in Doncaster at various times throughout history, the present and the future.  All of the stories have been crafted by members of Doncaster Writers' Group.  Some of those writers are published, some self-published, and some are still chasing a publishing contract or an agent.  But that range of experience brings to the whole piece a mixture of fresh voices alongside the more established.  The variety of the subject matter for the tales is also wide.  Enjoy some time at the races, but beware, ghostly things may happen.  Visit a magical book shop right here in town or spend time with a ghostly grandpa.  If romance is your preferred genre, perhaps a story about finding 'the right one' might be more your cup of tea.  Whatever your reading preference, each of these stories, set in our hometown of Doncaster, can be enjoyed by residents and visitors alike, and the variety of narrative voices means that you could discover a writer new to you who you will continue to follow in the future.

We don't have a publication date agreed yet, but October is looking good.  We do have the cover art, the stories, the foreword, and a book that is almost ready for proofreading and final amendments.  So keep watching this space, and as soon as I know when the book will be available for sale, I will announce it here.  In the meantime, tell your friends and family that a book about Doncaster, set in Doncaster, will be hitting the streets very soon...

If you wish to join the writing group or want to know more about us and the book, check out our Facebook page DoncasterWritersGroup

I'm continuing my journey following the Granville-Paris Express ...

 ... and today I’m calling in at Surdon, an intriguing little place in the middle of nowhere!  Join me as I explore …

If you look at a map, you will see that Surdon is a tiny dot.  Getting there is not straight forward and involves a journey along narrow country roads.

From Argentan I take the D958 in the direction of Sées and cut to the left onto the D240 towards Médavy and onwards to an intersection where I have to rely on the Sat. Nav. to tell me where to take a left as there are no road signs. The roads thus far are flanked by fields, with any habitation being sparse and distant.  I keep going steadily and eventually I come a small, almost hidden, sign indicating the route to the station.  I follow, and as I get closer to the railway lines, I come across parked cars.

The vehicles seem to go on forever, but actually culminate in a large space right next to the rail tracks that is jam-packed full of motors.  I stop and explore on foot.  I cannot believe the quantity of cars in this remote place.  There is nothing here other than the parking area, an old building and a newer one further along the tracks.  Not only that, apart from myself and one gent sat behind the wheel of his Renault, there is no one else here.  I spin around, taking in the acres of cars, the tracks on my right and the complete silence and isolation.  I can’t help but think that this location might be a good place to use in a fictional capacity.  Perhaps I’ll use it as inspiration for the siting of a body in one of my books.  Naturally, I would have to rename it and move it to somewhere in the Cévennes…  But the idea has now formed, and I quickly make a note on my phone.

Ideas for novels put away, I make my way towards the old building.  A red-brick building, very much a mid-nineteenth-century building.  So, the passengers on the Paris Express of October 1895 may have seen this building.  Back then, the station would have been manned, and as I look around the perimeter, I can see evidence of a waiting room, a ticket office, and perhaps a space for the stationmaster, if there was one.

A walk to the other side of the parking area and I find the all-new, hi-tech replacement station. Everything is automated.  There’s a machine to buy tickets, there are up-to-date displays announcing the trains, and the tracks are about 5 deep.

A sudden rumbling in the distance and I’m aware a train is due.  The LED display confirms my suspicions.  Within moments, the modern train races into the station and stops.  Half a dozen people alight and go on with their days.  As I walk back to the car, I see the gentleman in the Renault is collecting a traveller.  His wife, I assume.  But then that idea I had earlier pops back into my head.  By the time I’ve reached the car, I have a whole backstory for a woman who got off a train in a location like this one...

There will be more from my journey following the Granville-Paris Express next month.  

If you enjoyed this post, you can find the previous posts by clicking the links Granville part 1, Granville part 2, Vire, Flers, Briouze, Argentan and my review of the book, The Paris Express, is Here