I'm Off My Beaten Track in Tell el-Amarna...

 ... I'm resuming the jottings from my Egyptian Journal today.  Come and join me as I experience yet another novel form of local transport and visit more tombs and ancient palaces...

SAND TRACTORS AND TOMBS

Early start today.  We upped anchor before breakfast.  There had been a lot of noise from the other boats moored near us, and I had not slept well.  The Panda-eyes were getting darker and bigger.  We docked at a village just below the tombs of Tell el-Amarna.

Our transport is a sand tractor.  This comprises a tractor - working state not necessarily guaranteed - onto which is attached a covered trailer resembling an open-sided cattle truck.  There were long benches down each side with the minimum amount of padding and a third long bench down the middle.  As with all other forms of Egyptian transport, once full inside, it is perfectly acceptable to hang on at the back or stand on the tow bar, and for a privileged minority, take a seat up front next to the driver.

It is still quite early.  The haze hovering over the escarpment in the distance gives the landscape an ethereal and mysterious look.  I'm very much afraid that today might be dull, which is a disaster for the camera, but a welcome relief from the fierceness of the sun for my skin.

Our little convoy progressed through the village, passing tiny tumble-down houses along known but apparently unmarked sand tracks, carefully negotiating children and animals.  At the edge of the village was a vast expanse of desert, and we head straight out into it.  The village stopped rather than gradually fizzling out.  The greenery stopped with equal abruptness.

Tell el-Amarna was the site to which the 18th dynasty Pharaoh, Akhenaten, moved when he decided to reject the numerous gods of Thebes and to worship only the sun god, Aten.  As well as changing his people's religion, he also changed his own name from Amenhotep IV to Akhenaten.  He began constructing a city and a palace for himself and took up residence with his family in the eighth year of his reign.  Eventually, his wife, Nefertiti, returned to her northern palace.  Akhenaten appointed his half-brother Smenkhkare as his co-regent.  Unfortunately, Akhenaten died shortly afterwards.  On his death, his city was raised to the ground, his religion obliterated from existing records, and the high priests were restored to Thebes.

Our first destination was the excavation of the ancient mud-brick palace.  To protect the site - which still had to be fully dug out - a wire fence had been erected all the way around.  This was to keep out the villagers rather than the tourists.

The palace had its own household water system and an indoor pool.  The various rooms could be distinguished and along one side were the areas where the animals would have been kept.

Back to the cattle truck and we continued into the desert to the foot of the escarpment.  It was quite a climb up to the tombs and some of the elderly fellow travellers were showing signs of fatigue.  Again these tombs are hewn out of the solid rock and once belonged to the wealthy citizens of Akhenaten's city.  These tombs are not as spectacular as those at Beni Hasan.  However, the best one is that of a high priest called Meri Re.  In the reliefs, the Pharaoh is presented as a generous man.  He is depicted giving gifts to the dead man and honouring him.  There is greater realism in the artwork with the Pharaoh being presented in human form and as the same size as his people rather than towering above them.  There is a considerable amount of damage and pieces of the reliefs have been taken from the walls.  These tombs too, have been defaced by the early Christians.  They used them to practice their religion in secret and to hide from the oppression of the majority faith.

By the time we had left the final tomb the sun was scorching the sand, the wind was hot and burning and the view across the valley was stunning.  We climbed down the rock face and waited at the bottom for our transport.  I overheard two women talking and discovered they were French.  We exchanged pleasantries and details of our respective travel plans.  We both commented on the prevalence of the poverty all around us in Egypt.

Akhenaten

Another adventurous trip across the desert and we were back at the docks.  Back on board ship and I can relax in the shade as we spend the rest of the day sailing.  The scenery changes south of Tell el-Amarna.  The green fertile belt on the eastern bank lessens until it disappears beneath a high sandstone cliff.  Weathering shows the numerous bedding planes and the symmetry is broken from time to time by a limestone intrusion or a fault.  Eventually, the river turns west slightly and another narrow fertile plain begins to develop.  Upstream there are clusters of mud brick houses at the water's edge.  They have circles of animal dung on them drying in the sun.  The 'cowpats' are the household fuel for cooking and for heating in the winter evenings.  Our armed guard is still with us...

There will be more from my Egyptian journal in April.  If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my earlier posts about Cairo Giza Solar Sailing and Egypt generally - just click the links

Please welcome, friend and author, Val Penny...

... to the blog today.  Thanks for visiting, Val, and it’s great to have you back.  You write the DI Hunter Wilson stories, and you also have the Jane Renwick series, which has just one book at the moment, but I know there are more to follow and a ‘How To’ book about getting published.  Is there any stopping you, Val?

VP You are very kind, Angela.  Yes, when I was being treated for breast cancer and was unable to do many of the things that I enjoy doing, my husband laid down a challenge asking me if I thought I could write a book.  I discovered that I love writing novels, and my DI Hunter Wilson Crime Thrillers are set in Edinburgh.  This desire to tell stories and help others to get their work into the world has driven me.  To this end, I now run a writing group in the village where I live.

AW  What is it that you’re working on at the moment?

VP  I am writing the next book in the Jane Renwick Thriller series, set in Scotland, as well as working on a series of short stories for an anthology to come out next year.  My writing group is also working on an anthology to be sold in aid of humanitarian aid in Ukraine.

AW  A few months ago, you changed publisher.  That must be as stressful as moving house - new colleagues, now editor, new company policies - how was it for you?

VP  My previous publishers, Darkstroke, were extremely nurturing and took a chance to publish my novels when I was an unknown author.  For that, I will always be grateful. However, I decided to make a change because that company was taking on a large number of first-time authors whose needs were different to mine, as I had been writing for seven years and had several works in print.

I moved to SpellBound, a boutique publisher based in London.  It was extremely stressful, but my new publishers have been most supportive, and I am happy that the move I made was the right one for me.  I am quite enjoying having second editions of my books too.

AW  And what’s coming up for you and your work in the next six to twelve months?

VP  SpellBound are presently publishing my back catalogue and have accepted the next four synopses that I have sent to them.  That will keep me busy.  I will be completing the second book in my series of Jane Renwick Thrillers in a few months.  The other new books I will be working on are a book of short stories, a novella that forms a prequel to the Hunter series and a new Hunter novel, as well as that new Jane book I mentioned earlier.

AW  Last question, Val.  You’ve been abandoned on a remote island, and you have just enough battery power in your mobile phone to make one call.  Who are you going to call, and why?

VP   My publishers to ask them to feed my cat and explain why I might miss my deadline!

AW  Ha!  Good answer!

about the author... Val Penny has an Llb degree from the University of Edinburgh and her MSc from Napier University.  She has had many jobs, including hairdresser, waitress, banker, azalea farmer and lecturer but has not yet achieved either of her childhood dreams of being a ballerina or owning a candy store.

Until those dreams come true, she has turned her hand to writing poetry, short stories, nonfiction books, and novels.  Her novels are published by SpellBound Books Ltd.

Val is an American author living in SW Scotland.  She has two adult daughters, of whom she is justly proud and lives with her husband and their cat.

about the book... Can DI Hunter Wilson keep Edinburgh safe when he is the hunted?

Detective Inspector Hunter Wilson is woken in the early hours of the morning by a call from his son. Cameron’s flatmate was murdered. Why would anybody want to kill a young woman recently arrived in the city?

Hunter must call in the new Major Incident Team (MIT) to lead the investigation due to the reorganisation of police services. Hunter's ability to be involved, however, is put in severe doubt when someone from his past decides to take revenge on him. He goes missing, and his team have no idea where to look for him. Who would want to stop Hunter in his tracks?

Meanwhile, Hunter's team must work closely with the MIT and, with or without him, solve the murder in this taut crime thriller.

You can get the book Here

  

You can follow Val on Amazon  Facebook  Instagram and on  Twitter

A poem for Valentine's Day ...

                    LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

The fountains mingle with the river

    And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix forever

    With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

    All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

    Why not I with thine?

See the mountain kiss high heaven

    And the waves clasp one another;

No sister flower would be forgiven

    If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

    And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this work worth

    If thou kiss not me?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Come stroll with me ...

... through the house and grounds of château Chenonceau …

I’m camped just up the road from Chenonceaux, which sits on the north bank of the river Cher.  It’s a few kilometres west of Montrichard. Despite the prettiness of the village, it’s not the focus of my visit today. But, château Chenonceau is.  Note the lack of the x at the end of the name.  You can blame that on one of the revolutionaries, apparently.  No x meant that the connection with royalty was severed! Just seems like bad spelling to me, and I suppose it’s better than severing heads.

The château is situated just outside the village and straddles the river.  But it didn’t always look as it does now.  Follow me, and I’ll show you what I mean as we walk through some more French history.

The entrance to the house takes you past the Marques tower.  This is a remnant from the original fort that was built here in 1432 for Jean Marques 2. He was allied to King Charles 7. The Marques family had actually held the fief of Chenonceaux (must include the x this time because this is pre-revolution and we are talking about the estate) since the 13th century.  The fief was the right to raise revenue on land granted by the king for services rendered, mostly in the form of manpower as soldiers in wars to keep said estates and agricultural labourers to tend said land.

The tower we see today was actually preserved by one Thomas Bohier.  He purchased the old medieval fort in 1513 from Pierre Marques, who was in debt to the state.  Bohier demolished the original building, all but the solitary tower.  Between 1515 and 1521, Bohier built an entirely new mansion out on the river using the foundations of an old mill connected by the bridge in front of us and flanked by turrets.  Bohier was Chamberllan (the equivalent of the UK Chancellor of the Exchequer) to King Charles 8.  He had married very well.  His wife was Catherine de Briçonnet, the daughter of a powerful Touraine family of financiers.  It was Catherine who oversaw the building work in her husband’s absence.  As we leave the bridge and enter through the main door, we are presented with a wide corridor that stretches the full length of the ground floor to, what would have been at that time, a view overlooking the river and the opposite bank.

Bohier died in 1524, his wife two years later, and the château came into the possession of their son, Antoine.  The history now becomes a little murky.  It seems that the Bohier family were somehow connected with Jacques de Beaune-Samblançay, an extremely wealthy and powerful man who bank-rolled kings and nobles and was subsequently executed for extortion … possibly.  My brief research hasn’t provided any definite links, but what is clear is that in 1535, Antoine was in debt to the crown, and the property was seized by Francis 1.

When Francis died in 1547, Henri 2 offered the house to his mistress, Diane de Poitiers.  She took up residence and became so besotted with the location that she employed architect Philibert de l’Orme in 1555 to build the arched bridge across to the other side of the river. Once complete, Diane oversaw the planting of the gardens and the improvement of the grounds.

Henri 2 died in 1559, and his widow, Catherine de Medici, forced Diane out and into the château at Chaumont.  Catherine then moved in and greatly improved the interior so that she could properly indulge her party habit.

Moving along the central corridor of the original house, we come to the first level of the gallery on the bridge constructed by de l’Orme.  It is a light and airy space with a large fireplace at the far end, and I can imagine some of those parties that Catherine de Medici loved happening here.

But, taking a giant leap across history from the 16th century to the 20th and 1940, there’s a fascinating piece of info that I want to bring to your attention.  When France was occupied in 1940, the demarcation line ran along the centre of the river Cher and, therefore, under this fabulous gallery.  The north bank was in occupied France, but the south bank was in Vichy.  As I stand here and look down on the river below, I have to wonder if, and to what extent, that actuality was exploited before the occupiers took the property for themselves.  If the opportunity was never utilised, then some writer, somewhere, might want to consider using this quirk of history as part of a plot!

There will be more from château Chenonceau next month. If you enjoyed this post, you might also enjoy reading about my visits to the châteaux in Blois  Ancy-le-Franc or Tanlay

I'm reviewing Paris Echo ...

... by Sebastian Faulks.  Read on ...

Set firmly in the French capital, this story begins in Morocco.  Tariq is bored with the drudgery of his life.  He craves attention from his female friend, Laila, and he seeks approval from his ‘businessman’ father.  Nineteen years of age and testosterone-fuelled, he feels that life has somehow passed him by.  Making an instant decision one day, he packs up his college work, grabs his rucksack and a few items of clothing and tells his step-mother that he’s going to France to find the family of his birth mother who died – or was killed, he’s not entirely sure about his family history – when he was nine or ten.

As he journey’s across the Mediterranean and through France, he meets people who befriend him and shepherd him towards what they believe to be his goal.  In truth, Tariq isn’t clear about what his real goal is.  He just knows he has to do something.

In Paris, Tariq’s path crosses that of Hannah, a post-doctoral researcher from America who has returned to France after several years of absence.  As these two begin to dance around each other, it becomes clear that they both have very different attitudes, backgrounds, and needs.  It also becomes clear that they are both looking for something, but perhaps, not each other.

It was easy to like Tariq as a character.  He is full of hope and wonder and is not held back by the wisdom that age and experience bring.  Although it takes him a long time to admit it to himself, maturity, acceptance, and the self-confidence that goes with those qualities are what he’s really seeking.  The search for his mother’s family quickly becomes a secondary issue.

Hannah was more challenging to like.  She is guarded and scarred by a previous relationship and keeps herself reined in.  When she meets an old friend, Julian, who also lives in the city, I was immediately left wondering if she would change.  As I kept turning the pages, I desperately wanted there to be hope for Hannah.

Essentially a coming-of-age story for Tariq and a romance for Hannah, the dynamics between these two opposing characters are woven together and shredded apart with such finesse that I found myself going back over some passages.  In those moments, I wanted to fully immerse myself in their pain, realisations, misconceptions and miscommunications.

Throughout the book, the city of Paris sits serenely in the background, its modern buildings and routeways overshadowing the history of the old order and the past.  Internally for Hannah, there are echoes of her previous extended visit to the city – her thoughts creating yet another, perhaps weaker, echo from the recent past.  Add into the mix her research during the city’s occupation from 1940 until liberation, and you have another level of resonance.  This time much more sinister, pervasive and destructive.

The book was thought-provoking and engaging; the narrative voices flowed beautifully and were distinct - the story is told from Hannah’s and Traiq’s points of view.  I particularly liked the use of Paris Metro station names at the start of each chapter.  For me, it provided anchors within the city in my mind’s eye, and when I came across one I could not visualise, I got out my street map.  This is a novel that will be staying on my bookshelf!

In this novel, as part of her research, Hannah visits Natzwiller a prison camp in the Vosges mountains.  If you would like to read more about the significance of the camp, the link above will take you to a post I wrote following my own visit.

 

I’m celebrating the life and work of Virginia Woolf …

… on my blog today.  Read on …

I believe it was the author Virginia Woolf who said that ‘one must learn to be silent just as one must learn to talk.’  This quote has lived with me for quite some time.  Perhaps, it has never been more pertinent than at this moment when I think about the recent news and all the airing and sharing that has been spread all over my newspaper!

I first came across this piece of wisdom whilst studying for my final exams – Virginia Woolf’s books were part of my set texts.  In preparation for those exams, I also explored her life.  One hundred and forty years ago, on January 25th to be precise, Adeline Virginia Stephen was born.  She was the seventh child of Julia and Leslie Stephen, who shared an affluent household with the modernist painter Vanessa Bell.  Virginia was home-schooled and subsequently attended King’s College London, where she studied history and the classics.

With her father’s support and encouragement, Virginia began to write professionally in 1901. Her father died in 1904.  The family then moved to Kensington, bringing Virginia into contact with a more bohemian intellectual circle.  It was during this time that Virginia became a founding member of the Bloomsbury Press with Lytton Strachey, E. M. Forster, John Maynard Keynes, the Bells and the art critic and post-impressionist painter Roger Fry.

It was through the Bloomsbury Group that Virginia met her husband, Leonard Woolf, whom she married in 1912.  The couple then founded the Hogarth Press in 1917.  A lot of Virginia’s work was published through this, then, small independent press.  But the imprint still exists today as part of the Penguin Random House publishing empire.  And if you search for the right works in the right places, you find fabulous volumes of poetry and prose published under the name of Hogarth Press or Bloomsbury Classics.

It was Woolf’s flowing narratives that particularly drew my attention to her books.  I read far more of her works than I actually needed to for my exams.  Along with the set pieces, we also had a short list of other works that we were expected to read.  I read just about everything, beginning with her first novel, The Voyage Out, published in 1915.  It seemed to me back then, and now when I re-read her books, that every word on every page was specifically chosen for the pervading mood of the scene she wished to create in my imagination.  Even now, I still find myself putting her books down so that I can fully lose myself in the sentiment or the emotion of that one chapter, sometimes that one sentence.  I’ve always thought that Woolf’s ability with language and stream of consciousness to tell her stories was second to none.  And perhaps, I am a little jealous of that talent.

My collection of her books is a mix of my old paperbacks – now quite well-worn and fragile – and some first editions that have replaced my original texts from school.  But I will never stop reading them.

Bloomsbury Press Classics

During her lifetime, Woolf published 9 novels, beginning with The Voyage Out and ending with Three Guineas in 1938.  Her final novel, Between the Acts, was published posthumously in 1941.  But she also wrote and published a number of anthologies, along with a substantial body of non-fiction, essays, biography and a play, Freshwater, that has only ever been performed during Woolf’s lifetime as far as I am aware.  She also maintained journals throughout her life.

Virginia Woolf suffered from depression, and it was during one of these particular bouts that she crafted her final letter to her husband.  On March 28th, 1941, she filled the pockets of her coat with stones and walked out into the river Ouse near her home and drowned.

I have always wondered if she had learned to talk a little more or to use silence a little less, what else might she have achieved with more time.

If you enjoyed this post, you may also wish to read about Rumer Godden or A. A. Milne or Patricia Highsmith

Come stroll with me …

… through the magnificent royal château in the city of Blois …

Blois sits on the river Loire about halfway between the cities of Tours and Orléans and some 300 kilometres upstream from St Nazaire, where the river enters the northern corner of the Bay of Biscay.  The town is the adminstrative capitol (préfecture) of the département of Loire-et-Cher.  With a population of around 50,000, it is small by British standards (the people of Leeds number about 517,000).  But it has a fascinating history, and the best way to view that is by visiting the château.

The county of Blois was originally a feudal principality with the city at the centre, but there has been habitation here since the Romans.  Around 500AD, when Clovis 1 booted out the Latin invaders, the principality first came into being.  From about 700AD, the county became a thriving and growing power in its own right.  The château and the county were managed by the successive Counts of Blois, who also took possession of Chartres and Champagne.  Their power and wealth enabled them to enhance the original medieval fortress and grounds.  That status can be seen in the Salles des États Généraux (the Court’s Room designed to handle estate business rather than a court of law for trials).  Built at the beginning of the 13th century, it is one of the oldest seigneuriale rooms in France.  Standing in the room and looking across the walls and ceiling, the vibrancy of the colours is amazing.

As we walk through the various spaces, we are following in the footsteps of dukes and kings. In 1397 the castle was ceded to Louis 1, then Duke of Orléans and brother of King Charles 6. 

When Louis was assassinated, the château was inhabited by his widow, who retired to Blois. Subsequently, the property was inherited by their son, Charles d’Orléans, the poet.

Born in 1394, he inherited the dukedoms of Valois and Orléans, the titles of Count of Blois, Beaumont-sur-Oise, Lord of Coucy and a substantial estate in Italy from his mother.  Although privileged, life for Charles didn’t quite work out as planned.

In 1415, at the battle of Agincourt, he was taken prisoner by the English and spent the next 24 years in prison.  During this time, he wrote many pieces of poetry in English and French. During his incarceration, he was moved from estate to estate and spent time in the Tower of London, Bolingbroke Castle – the seat of Henry 4, known to us and Shakespeare as Henry Bolingbroke - and Pontefract castle, which is close to where I live in Yorkshire.  As Charles was in line for the French throne, our King, Henry 5, considered him too important to ransom and return, hence the extended imprisonment.

Charles’ canon of poetic works is extensive, amounting to two books – one in English and one in French – of poems in the rondeau and ballade forms.   When Charles was eventually released in 1440, he returned to France and married Marie of Cleves in St Omer, northern France.  They had three children, the second of which was a son who became Louis 12 of France in 1498.  You can see a magnificent statue of Louis on his horse above the doorway as you enter the property.

Since Charles’ death at 71 in January 1465, his poetry has been analysed and debated and
finally accepted.  Some of his works have been set to music by Edward Elgar, Claude Debussy and the Venezuelan-born French composer and conductor Reynaldo Hahn.

Before I leave this magnificent building with its mixture of Gothic, Renaissance and Classical architecture, its counts, dukes and kings, you must see two more things.  The first is the La Chambre des Secrets.  This room once belonged to Catherine de Medici and within the panelling is a secret chamber where it is supposed that she kept her poisons!  Catherine died here in 1589 at the age of 69.

And lastly, we take a stroll out into the courtyard.  The stunning spiral staircase was part of the refurbishment of the castle when Francis 1 and his wife, Queen Claude, acceded to the throne in 1515.  Louis 12, Francis’ first cousin and father-in-law brought the Renaissance style to France.  And there is no better example of the Italianate bas-relief than here.  Others at the time concur as the staircases here became the reference point for those built at Chambord a few years later.

If you enjoyed this stroll through history, you might also be interested in a visit to Ancy-le-Franc or Tanlay  There will be more of my travels in the coming weeks and months.