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, 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

I'm reviewing The Blood in Winter ...

 ... by Jonathan Healey.  Read on ...

It was another writer's review of this book that captured my attention as I was working my way through my newspaper.  Having now read the book, I'm glad I decided to buy it.  Jonathan Healey is an Associate Professor in social history at Oxford who knows the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries very well.

With a subtitle of A Nation Descends, this excellent book charts the build-up to the English Civil War.  Beginning in late March 1641, we are introduced to Colonel George Goring, a soldier of some repute, who was well known for his camaraderie in the inns of London.  Goring is being cajoled by a friend, a co-conspirator, gambler, and courtier, Sir John Suckling.  Charles Stuart sits on the throne, but his popularity is at a low ebb, and one of the most hated politicians of the time, the Earl of Strafford, is about to go on trial for treason.  Strafford was a favourite of the King.  

Thus, the writer presents the reader with a seemingly convoluted puzzle to consider.  Throughout the rest of the book, Healey uses real people present at the time to tell the story of how England fell into civil war.  The detail from ordinary people's lives at that time is fascinating and varied.  It brings the action to life and offers insight into beliefs and thinking at that time.  I really enjoyed the minor details, and when set against the larger picture of a country on the brink of war, it added to the urgency and impetus for action.

For a history book, the narrative romps along, and the writing is smooth and easily readable.  I found I became drawn into the lives of the people who form the backbone of the events leading up to conflict.  This makes the book look and feel like a novel rather than a dry history.  Not that I've ever considered history to be dry and boring, but I am aware that promoting a book about a piece of English history and calling it that is enough to turn some readers away.  To those readers, I say, 'Don't look away.'  This is a fascinating read about a very important part of our history and well worth the time taken to discover its contents for yourselves.

If you enjoyed this post, you might also be interested in my thoughts on The Lost King of France,  The Paris Muse,or,  F is for France

Join me and Gianetta Murray in ...

... the city of Doncaster.  Doncaster will be celebrating all things bookish next month.  Read on for more details …

A fabulous Literary Festival is coming to town on August 12th.  The many varied events will run across a full four days at various locations and times in Doncaster.  The full schedule is available Here

There will be author panels, writing workshops, a literary quiz, a story competition (which is currently running), a poetry and spoken word evening, along with lots more.  And I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that I have the great honour of being included along with fellow writer Gianetta Murray.

If you’re a fan of cosy crime, then come along to the Unitarian Church, Hall Gate (DN1 3PB), on Friday evening, August 14th, at 7.00pm.  Gianetta and I will be talking about crime writing and what makes it cosy… or not!  If you want to get to know some of the criminals that live on the pages in our books and stories, come along and find out how we create them. Interested in the history of crime writing?  We can cover that, too, so do make sure you book your place on the 14th.  There will be time for questions, and we are hoping for something of an interactive conversation with our audience.

If the discussion has piqued your interest in cosy crime, both Gianetta and I will have a selection of books with us at the event.  I will have all seven of my Jacques Forêt Murder Mysteries with me. The books are all set in France, and if you would like to chat about France, the Cévennes, the stories, or even Jacques himself after the event, please just let me know.

Gianetta Murray will have copies of her Vivien Brandt Murder Mystery series with her, and I’m sure she will be only too pleased to chat about how the work on book 3 is shaping up, and her inspirations for each of the novels.

Both of us also write short stories in various genres.  But some of those short missives also feature a crime.  We will have a selection of the multi-genre miscellanies of tales that form the Seasonal Paths Collection, and copies of Earth, the first in a new series of anthologies with the elements as a theme.

Other events and activities to look forward to during the festival are :

Sci Fi Short Story Competition (Under 16’s) submission deadline August 1^st

Neurodiverse Writers Discussion Panel 6.00pm August 12^th

Rhymes and Vibes Spoken Word 7.30 August 12^th

Zine Workshop 3.00pm August 13^th

Author Talk with Romance writer Jeevani Charika 6.00pm August 13^th

Well Spoken Poetry & Prose 7.30pm August 13^th

Fantasy World Workshop 5.30pm August 14^th

Criminal Behaviour 7.00pm August 14^th

Open Invitation to attend Doncaster Writers Group 10.30am August 15th

Blackout Poetry Workshop 1.30pm August 15th

Author Talk with Amy McCaw 4.00pm August 15th

Author Talk with Samantha Howe 5,30pm August 15th

Bookish Quiz 7.30pm August 15th

Sci Fi Author Panel 1.30pm August 16^th

Author Talk with Craig Hallam 3.00pm August 16^th

It would be great to see you there at any of the events …

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

... and today I'm making a return visit to Argentan.  Read on …

The lively and historic town of Argentan is part of the region of Normandie.  And if that brief description seems a little familiar to you, it may be because there are already several other mentions and a blog post about this beautiful little town.  Want to catch up on that previous post?  Just click the following link: Argentan
I’m here today specifically to investigate the history of rail in this town.  But first I must make a trip to my favourite pâtisserie for my lunch which will be a tartelette-aux-fraises.  And I know exactly where I’m going to eat it – in the shade of one of the trees by the lake behind the lace museum.
In the mid-nineteenth century, Argentan sat at a major junction of rail lines – the north-south route from Caen to Tours and the then-proposed east-west route between Granville and Paris.  In 1851, Napoleon 3 oversaw the review and re-organisation of the 27 already existing rail companies in the west of the country.  He merged these into 5 other larger elements to create the Compagnie de Chemin-de-la-fer de l’Ouest.  The new organisations included Paris-St. Germain-en-Laye, Paris-Rouen, Rouen-Havre, Dieppe-Fécamp, Caen-Cherbourg and the creation of the Granville-Argentan-Paris connection in 1855.
The original station was constructed in the mid-1850s, with the first train arriving on February 1^st, 1858.  At that time the journey to Paris took about 10 hours.  By 1860 that time had been reduced to 6.
In 1858, the depot attendant to the station had room for 3 locomotives.  By 1870 that number had increased to 13 and, following subsequent expansions and extensions, the depot could house a maximum of 90 by 1935.  By then, the new company Chemin-de-la-fer de l’Ouest had run into severe financial difficulties in 1908 and had been merged with the sister company serving the east of the country, and subsequently became part of the national network with the creation of SNCF on January 1st, 1938.  In the 1970s, national management was reviewed, and the decentralisation to the regions began.
As I walk across town to the station, I wonder what I might find.  I’m certain, having already seen photos of the devastation of the town as a result of the Normandy landings in 1944, that there must have been some damage.  Nevertheless, I hold out hope that some vestige of the original station might still be here.
Argentan, like the rest of northern and western France, was occupied in 1940 and remained under German control until August 1944.  The city had become a very important rail hub and therefore an essential target for the Allies. On August 15th and 16th, the American forces attempted to take the town and the rail hub.  The enemy fought fiercely to maintain control.  The Allies responded with relentless bombing of the town and the rail infrastructure.  When the American infantry finally entered the town on August 20^th, it was decimated. The station, depot, tracks, and rolling stock were completely destroyed. Argentan was part of the battle for the Falaise Pocket, and at the nearby museum you can see a film outlining the battle plans and the progress toward routing the enemy.
The building that is the station today is very different from the one that stood here in 1944, and in October 1895 when the travellers on the Granville-Paris express arrived here.  There are old photos of the depot, the engines and the railway station which was very much in keeping with the style of building in the mid-nineteenth century.  What we see today is a clean-lined, modern building with all the facilities needed for 21st-century travel.  Outside, travellers arriving for the first time are met with a wide-open space that has been appropriately planted, and an easy walk into the centre of this fabulous little town.

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 and my review of the book, The Paris Express, is Here

Read more from Meyrueis...

 ... book seven in the Jacques Forêt Mystery series.  In my post on June 23rd, I promised some more from Meyrueis, and if you missed that first post, you can read it Here.  But here's what happened next...   

thirty seconds later

 

Émile Caussignac, the baker, hesitated for a moment as he took in the scene. Madame Longchamp seemed to be transfixed as she stared at the river, her basket discarded on the bridge, its meagre contents strewn across the cobbles.

“Gabriel,” Émile roared at his immediate neighbour, the partially deaf owner of the bar and café next door. “I’m taking this for Madame Longchamp,” he said, grabbing a chair from the nearest pavement table. At a run, he crossed the bridge and, taking her elbow gently, slotted the seat behind his customer.

“Madame, please sit.” As he looked up, he saw his old school friend Mathieu, the maître d’ and owner of the restaurant just down the road, arrive to open up. “Mathieu, an Armagnac for Madame, quickly please.” He righted the basket and returned the keys and purse to their resting place.

Finally turning his attention to the cause of Madame’s distress, Émile took a couple of steps towards the side of the bridge. The body of a man was lying face-up in the water, unmoving. The actual cause of death was not easily visible from above, but the trail of blood gradually filtering through the water was a constantly refreshed marker.

“What’s happen—”

“Police,” barked Émile, taking the proffered small glass of alcohol from Mathieu. “Call the police immediately.” The baker turned to Madame and handed her the brandy. “Here, drink this,” he said, carefully cupping one of her hands, and then the other, around the bowl of the glass. Rose-Marie stared at him, her eyes seemingly vacant of any recognition. “It’s me, Madame. Émile the baker.”

Rose-Marie took a sip of the strong drink. “Thank you,” she stammered. She gazed at the people around her. Mathieu was on his phone, making a call. Gabriel was standing at the foot of the bridge, looking on. Madame Caussignac appeared in the doorway of the shop, and several other residents, a couple still in their night clothes, had wandered out onto the street.

“I think I’d like to go home,” said Rose-Marie after taking another sip of the alcohol.

“Of course.” Émile offered her his right arm. Still pale and shocked, Madame Longchamp attempted to stand. As she got to her feet, Émile felt her grip on his forearm tighten.

“Alright, Madame?” She nodded and handed him her glass.

“The police are on their way,” said Mathieu taking the glass from his friend. “I think they will want to talk to you, Madame.”

Rose-Marie nodded. “Yes, I suppose they will.” She moved forward a step. The baker, with Madame’s basket clasped in his left hand, escorted her to the far side of the bridge and shepherded her up the uneven stone steps to her front door.

“Don’t worry about your bread order, Madame. I will get everything together for you once I’m back in the shop, and then I will deliver it myself.” Taking Madame’s keys from the bottom of her basket, he opened the front door and led her inside.

Rose-Marie stood in the hallway and watched as Émile placed the basket on the chair that sat beneath the hall mirror. No, that’s not the right place, she thought.

“Coffee,” she said, still staring at the offending item as though it could somehow tidy itself into its proper resting place. “I’ll make some coffee.” Her voice had regained a little of its usual timbre and strength.

“No, Madame. You will sit down,” Émile said as he guided his customer into the living room. “I will make you some coffee.” Knowing the layout of the house that he’d visited often as a child to play with Madame’s youngest son, the baker made his way to the kitchen at the back to begin his task.

You can get the book Here 

 

I'm reviewing Murder in Edinburgh...

... by fellow writer, Val Penny.  Read on ...

I think someone somewhere said that you can't leave a good book on a shelf for long!  This holds true for Murder in Edinburgh.  First published in 2017 as Hunter's Chase by Crooked Cat Books, this story has been around for a while.  But publishers change, contracts are renewed or not, and authors sometimes need to find pastures new.  So, it was really good to see this story back on sale again with a fabulous new cover, completely revised content and with a wonderful new publisher, Joffe Books.  And if that isn't enough, this, and all the other books in the series have all been re-titled.  But fear not, Detective Inspector Hunter Wilson is still walking the pages and the streets of Edinburgh, solving these fabulous mysteries.

Murder in Edinburgh begins with a burglary that is interrupted by the homeowner, who happens to be a Minister of State.  When the thief runs, with the minister in close pursuit, the action comes to a dead halt as the body of a hastily buried woman is discovered.  This gritty police procedural, with many twists and turns throughout the book, carries on at a cracking pace from that point.

With multiple lines of enquiry, this is a brilliant read for all those armchair sleuths who like to try and solve the puzzle before the central character.  In addition, Val, who is a master plotter, carefully weaves the body of evidence into a wholly satisfying conclusion.

It was great to be back with Hunter and his team. Unlike others, I was quite happy to let Hunter lead me through this investigation and to let Val reacquaint me with the personnel at the police station.  Re-reading this book was like meeting up with old friends.

Murder in Edinburgh is the first of the DI Hunter Wilson investigations in a series that just keeps getting better and better.  If you are discovering these books for the very first time, then there are a further 5 books to be released.  A little bird has also told me that book seven in the series is being worked on and will be available in the new year.

If you've already read the originals, then look out for these old friends as they are gradually re-released.  As I said at the top of the page, you can't leave a good book on a shelf for long!

about the author ... Val Penny’s crime novels form the bestselling series of DI Wilson stories set in Edinburgh.

She is an American author living in SW Scotland with her husband and their cat. 

 

about the book ...  A woman’s body is found in a shallow grave on the edge of an exclusive Edinburgh golf course.  The victim bears the signs of a brutal struggle: blows to the body, marks around her throat, knees scraped raw as she fought to escape.

But there is no name.  No phone.  No one reported missing.

Detective Hunter Wilson is summoned from his regular darts night to take the call.  Two decades on the force, he’s seen plenty.  But this one gets under his skin from the start.

You can get the book Here

You can follow Val Penny on her Website or her Amazon Author Page and on Facebook  Instagram  or  Bluesky

I have a little treat for readers ...

 ... the Jacques Forêt Mysteries.  Read on...

Last week the proof copy of book seven in my cosy crime series landed on my doormat.  I was beyond overjoyed just to see the unopened package sitting there, waiting patiently to be collected and then opened.  Considering what has happened over the past twenty months or so - my original publisher deciding to quit the business, the search for another publisher, the signing of a new contract, then the sad news that my new commissioning editor was leaving his post and the publisher was restructuring and focusing on historical stories only, another search - and I was beginning to think that Meyrueis might never see the light of day.  

At one especially dark moment, as 2025 was turning into 2026, I began to wonder if any of my writing would ever find a new publishing home.  But, as one door closes, another opens, and that's what eventually happened.

Although the e-book was published on May 4th, the paperback took a little longer.  But I am very pleased to say that, following some very minor changes to the cover, the paperback edition is now live on Amazon.  And just to tempt you to consider delving into this 'complex and compelling read,' as described by a reviewer in the UK, I have a short excerpt for you.

Read on and enjoy...

le village de Meyrueis, département de la lozère

 

Madame Rose-Marie Longchamp paused at the mirror in the hallway and tugged the collar of her pristine white blouse straight. Satisfied it was perfectly placed, she smiled at her reflection. The burgundy embroidery on each collar point perfectly complemented the sage green of her linen jacket. Picking up her basket, she dropped in her purse and keys. At the open front door, she breathed in the fresh, heady scent of the stocks in the terracotta pots on each side of the small portico as the nearby river rippled its way westward to become a minor tributary of the much more impressive Tarn.

Her wicker pannier over her right arm, she stepped out into the morning sunshine as she had done for the last five-and-a-half decades. Collecting the bread and pâtisserie for the weekend was always her first and most important chore on a Friday morning. Today, even more so, as her daughter, granddaughter and the new addition to the family, another girl, would be visiting on Saturday. A catch-up with the baker and her regular dose of village gossip could not displace the current radiant smile on her pale, round face.

As she crossed the narrow stone bridge at the foot of the few steps beneath her front door, she caught a glimpse of something out of the ordinary in her peripheral vision. A hint of vibrant colour in the usually crystal-clear river water caused her to stop and peer over the low parapet. A garish ribbon of vermillion streaked across and between the stones on the riverbed. The scream that originated in the pit of her stomach ripped through the still silence of the morning and brought the baker running to his open shop doorway a few metres distant.

 

the village of meyrueis, lozère,

friday, august 2^nd, 2019, 07.31

You can get the book Here and you can read the next chapter Here

Today, I'm celebrating Bloomsday ...

 ... and if you're not entirely sure what that means, then read on …

The Irish author, James Joyce (February 2nd, 1882 - January 13th, 1941), was controversial during his life and remains so since his death.  His work has been questioned and debated for decades, as have his politics and his personal beliefs.  For me personally, he is a writer of great talent and insight, a personality of significant complexity and intellect, and one of the 20th century's greatest writers.  Born in Dublin, he was the eldest of ten children, and although the heart of his writing remained in that city, he spent the vast majority of his life living and travelling in Europe.

His body of work that exists today is perhaps not as large as that of many other authors, but it is significant and is still constantly reinterpreted and debated.  His short stories – Dubliners - are quite well known and often appear on school syllabi.  His shorter novels – Stephen Hero, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and Finnegans Wake – are also reasonably well known and still studied.  His poetry still finds its way into collections, but his only play, Exiles, is rarely, if ever, mentioned or staged.  It was rejected by W B Yeats upon publication in 1918, and the first London production was staged by Harold Pinter at the Mermaid Theatre in 1970.  It is rarely, if ever, played, and Padraic Colum – a contemporary of Joyce – dismissed the play because it had ‘the shape of an Ibsen’ and therefore could be viewed as a derivative of the Scandinavian's works.

But there is also Ulysses, Joyce’s longest and most challenging work.  That book is the reason why today is Bloomsday.  I started reading Ulysses as a teenager and as background for A Portrait, which was on my exam syllabus.  I kept my second-hand copy secreted away in a cupboard because the book had been banned previously.  Indeed, it wasn’t even available for publication in the UK until the 1930’s.  At school, the book was like gold dust.  The boys wanted to read it because it had been banned.  Some of the other girls took a marmite approach – it was either loved or hated - and others just wanted to see if it really didn’t have punctuation as rumoured.  And on that point, yes, it does have punctuation, but not for all sections, and there’s a reason for that.

As for me, I just wondered at the excellence of the wordplay, the wit and the concept of the book.  All the action of the story takes place on June 16th, 1904.  The basic story of the book is that of the three principal characters, Leopold Bloom, Molly Bloom and Stephen Dedalus, all of whom appear in other works.  The book isn’t just about who did what to whom in order to further the plot.  The text looks at the thoughts, feelings, motives, and the innermost subconscious of the characters as they move through their single day.

I have always found the structure of this book fascinating.  It’s not neatly divided into sentences, paragraphs, scenes, and chapters.  Indeed, some sections look and read as though they are stage plays or TV scripts.  There’s so much in this book that each time I pick it up to check something, or to read a section, I see something new, something I haven’t thought of, or noticed before, a tiny detail that has suddenly become obvious, a new enigma or puzzle for me to solve.

The book took Joyce over seven years to complete, during which time he had lived in three different cities.  Although it was partially serialised in an American literary magazine between 1918 and 1920, it wasn’t actually published as a single and complete volume until 1922, by which time Joyce was living in Paris.  There were numerous reprintings and revisions prompted by Joyce.

As a collector I was stunned to see a ‘first’ edition of Joyce’s Ulysses on display in a glass case in a library I visited some years ago.  Trying to find a definitive edition for my own collection was almost impossible, as well as financially unattainable.  However, I do have my facsimile of the 1926 edition, which sits on one of my many bookshelves.

May I wish all Joyce fans a fabulous Bloomsday today.

I always know when it's summer because the Newark Book Festival ...

 … has finally arrived on my blog.  Read on for more detailed info ...

This year, the tenth anniversary, the Newark Book Festival will run from July 9th through to July 12th. As with previous festivals, there will be plenty of events happening all over town during those four days.

Along with workshops, author interviews, children's events, and music, there will also be an amazing Book Fair.  In the Market Place, there will be loads of book stalls and I will be there, too, with my colleague Gianetta Murray.

So, please do join us on Saturday, July 11th, in the Market Place, Newark, NG24 1DU.

We will be there all day from 09.30 am.  We will be signing and selling books. 

I will have all of my Jacques Forêt Mysteries with me.  So, if you would like to chat about France, the Cévennes, the stories, or even Jacques himself, please drop by and say hello.  I will also be able to give you the latest info on the next book in the series.

I will be bringing the three fabulous Miss Moonshine anthologies as well.  If you are in need of a feel-good, heart-warming read for the summer, then these collections of gentle stories will see you through the holidays.  They are ideal for a cuppa, taking a bit of me-time whilst the kids are busy elsewhere, and enjoying a well-written, uplifting tale.

Gianetta Murray, author of A Supernatural Shindig, an anthology and the Vivien Brandt Mysteries, will also be at the fair with her books.  I’m sure Gianetta will be only too pleased to chat about how the work on her next book is shaping up.

In addition, we will have the multi-genre miscellanies of tales from the Seasonal Paths Collection. All four are now available in print and E-format.  We will also have Earth, the first in a new series of anthologies based on the elements, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.

It would be great to see you there if you can make it.

Full details of all events are on the Book Festival website which you can access Here

We are hoping for excellent weather, and we look forward to chatting to visitors...

I’m continuing my journey following the Granville-Paris Express …

… and I’m now in Briouze, a small town only 19 kilometres from Flers, my last stop, in the département of Orne (61). Read on …

The D924 from Flers follows the route of the railway to Briouze. According to the novel The Paris Express, the train that ran on October 22nd, 1895, took twenty-one minutes to make the journey.  For a steam train, that’s probably quite good going.  But what I found particularly interesting in this chapter were some of the comments between the characters about the pros and cons of speed and the invasion of constant communications.  I had to wonder what those same characters would say if they had been able to see into the 21st century with our high-speed electric trains, our social media and the World Wide Web!

Briouze is a small town with a population of around 1,500 people, which, like Flers, has been in steady decline since the mid-nineteen-seventies.  The stop here in 1895 was unscheduled, and it was so that one of the deputies for Orne could join the train.  However, rather than sitting in first with the other passengers, this deputy and his wife have their own custom-made carriage, which has to be hitched to the train immediately behind the existing first-class carriages.  This causes the driver and his stoker some consternation.  They are already six minutes late when they come to a stop.  Their pay is affected if they arrive late in Paris, and the stoker has to maintain boiler pressure to ensure the extra weight can be managed effectively on the up and down slopes.   All of which adds to the tension of the journey.

For my little foray around town, I leave the car in the central square dominated by the church dedicated to St Gervais and St Protais.  A quick check of the entrances, and I find a door that is open.  Built between 1080 and 1093 at the behest of Guillaume de Briouze, it is beautifully preserved.  The stained-glass windows don’t look original to me, and, as a result, the interior feels very light and airy.

Outside again, and as the church clock strikes noon, I realise I need to explore the streets to find something for lunch.  A few metres away, there is a boulangerie, and it’s tartelette-au-fraise for me.  A bench in the shade and a half hour to contemplate the exterior of the church and listen to the silence of the place.  Not a single car passes through.  Only an elderly lady appears from a nearby house, a shopping basket hanging over her arm as she makes her way to the baker's.  She’s probably been making that trip every day for decades.

Lunch over.  I look for signs to the station, and that’s when the confusion begins.  There are signs, it’s just that they both point in completely different directions.  I follow the route to the left first and come across the railway tracks that used to be there!  Now it’s a cycle path.  But the old station or maybe the old signal box is now a lovely little three-story house.  Madame sees me staring at her abode and asks me if I’m lost.  I tell her I’m looking for the station.  ‘It’s over there,’ she says, pointing down the cycle track.  ‘The other side of town.’  I thank her and ask for a photo of her house.  She looks bemused but nods her permission anyway.

A trot along the cycle path takes me past a grove of trees and brings me to a brand-new, all-modern, personless, fully functioning station with about 6 or 8 rail tracks in front of it.  As I look down the line, I see something much more in keeping with late-nineteenth-century rail accessories, and I continue following the track.  The original station, still intact, is now a hub for creatives and the use of the townspeople.  I look around the car park, and considering the town is so quiet, there are far more cars parked here than I expected.

Retracing my steps, I follow the brown signs to the château, which once belonged to Guillaume, the baron who magnanimously commissioned the church.  I also discover that he accompanied his namesake to Britain in 1066 and was awarded land in England as a result. As for the château, it is a building of modest proportions and grounds that now functions as the town hall.

I meander back to the car and note the modern juxtaposed with the old.  Another town that was flattened in the forties…

There will be more from my journey following the Granville-Paris Express next month, so keep watching this space…

You can find the previous posts in this series by clicking the links Granville part 1, Granville part 2, Vire, Flers and my review of the book, The Paris Express is Here  

I'm reviewing The Seventh Son ...

... by Sebastian Faulks.  A fascinating and thought-provoking read...

Set in the not-too-distant future, this story introduces the reader to a slightly different world and explores the nature and extent of genetic engineering.  The story gently introduces the reader to the trials and tribulations in the life of central character, Talissa.  At a crossroads in her career and in need of funds, she decides to take a year out to become a surrogate mother for a childless couple, Alaric and Mary.  She applies to an eminent institute where in vitro fertilisation is available for anyone with enough cash.  The Institute is also part of a wider organisation that undertakes research and genetic engineering.
The action then shifts to a conversation between Lukas Parn – a wealthy scientist and owner of the institute and research labs that Talissa will use – and one of his colleagues in the same field.  And it is at this very early point in the story that a seemingly innocent remark foreshadows the catalogue of sinister events that will follow.  ‘I want to do an experiment,’ says Parn.  ‘I want to prove something.’  From here onwards, the tension gradually begins to build.  I found that I could not put this book down.
The narrative, as easily readable as it is, flows really well with a constant backdrop of ever-increasing fear for Talissa and the child she is carrying and for the parents who will adopt that child – Seth, a name that is full of meaning in the context of the story, which I will explore in a following paragraph.  Once Seth is born and delivered to his eagerly awaiting parents, he becomes yet another source of concern for the reader.  Wanting to know what happened to Seth kept me turning the page, to the extent that I read the final two-thirds of the book in one day.
As the child was born and named, I could not help but wonder why he was called Seth.  It seemed such an odd choice for the parents to make, and yes, there is a veiled justification in the text.  But when you consider the Hebrew origins of the name - which means 'appointed', 'placed', or 'put' – you understand that the choice is not random at all.  Add in the ancient Egyptian root – Set, the god of desert storms and chaos – and yet another facet of Seth's character is amplified.  Looking at the biblical connections gives us yet more.  Seth was a replacement son for Adam and Eve after Abel died.  According to biblical genealogy, he was an ancestor of Noah, thereby placing him in a unique position in relation to the story of the ark and the saving of humanity from the floods.  Whilst I fully understand that the stories in the Bible are just that – an explanation of who and  what we were at that time stated in the language and manner of the time – I cannot help but see the parallels between the story of creation and our current capability for genetic engineering.  In many respects, that realisation makes this book one of the most chilling I have ever read.
Towards the end of the story, there is yet another dilemma for the reader, and the ending was not what I was expecting.  This is a disturbing, thought-provoking, but excellent read that fully deserves the five-star rating I have awarded.

If you enjoyed this review you may be interested in my thoughts about Snow Country  or Paris Echo  both by Faulks, or Cursed Bread by Sophie Mackintosh...