Please welcome, friend and author, Elisabeth Dunleavy ...

... to the blog this week. Hi, Elisabeth. Thanks for taking some time out to be here today. Tell me all about your latest release.

ED   No Way Home is a memoir based on my German mum and aunt’s diaries from 1945.

AW  Interesting, and what first got you into writing and why?

ED  I wrote diaries as a teenager and young woman. Over the years, I have written quite a number of poems. I first remember writing poems in 1982/3 when I was living and working as a nurse in South Africa. Poems about love, nature’s splendour or my observations of people/situations. I wrote for me, a literary snapshot of times in my life, which, when read years later, took me right back into the moment of writing and the circumstances that provided the inspiration. I didn’t write regularly, and certainly, when my children were young, it took a back seat—although I do remember writing a poem about how frazzled I felt at the end of the day, surrounded by dirty dishes and toys strewn across the floor!

I knew I had to tell Mum’s story even though she didn’t think it worth telling. She would not have agreed to it in her lifetime. When she died, six months after her sister, in 2020, I found their diaries and other family archive items, which I kept with me on ChristaBella and continued my family history research.

In November 2022, I began translating my aunt’s diary and signed up for an online writing course. Although it was more about self-publishing and SM marketing, I learnt a lot and had support and encouragement from a group of fellow aspiring authors, which did keep me going and eventually saw No Way Home published in September 2023.

Although there are sections of the book written by me, I feel a bit of a fraud because the main part of the book is the translation of the diaries—their words, not mine.

AW  Your book is a family memoir, and apart from the work on the translation, there must have been a lot of research, too. How easy or difficult was that?

ED   Once my interest in my German history had been sparked in my mid-50s, I had plenty of opportunities to talk to Mum about the people in her life as a youngster in Gleiwitz. She happily recounted stories about their life before the war, most of which is the first chapter of No Way Home.

Because of this, I was familiar with the names I came across when translating the diaries. My aunt had written a family tree back to my great-great-grandparents, and I found several formal portraits in a plastic wallet when clearing my aunt’s flat in Frankfurt in 2020. Some portraits were easy to identify; however, I sent some pictures to the V&A museum, asking them to date the portraits based on the clothes being worn. This was really interesting and allowed me to make an educated guess as to the identity of the remaining portraits.  The translation was difficult and time-consuming.

The German cursive handwriting was difficult to decipher—I used a magnifying glass to look at the strokes of the ink pen on the page to work out the letters- particularly ‘u’ ‘m’ ‘n’ ‘r’. Eventually, words and sentences emerged, and although I do speak German, I used internet translation tools if I didn’t understand. Of course, chatting with my siblings about the nuances of the language was invaluable. As the structure of the story emerged, I wanted to understand the ‘situation on the ground’ in more detail, never having studied WW2 at school. I felt context was lacking, so began using the internet and books to find out more. Aftermath by Harald Jahner was particularly helpful as it corroborated what I was reading in the diaries. I have referenced all the resources I used at the back of the book.

As well as diaries, there were letters written in old Sütterlin script—a totally different alphabet and even more difficult to decipher. I had to establish if copyright law would prevent me using a map found in my aunt’s diary, travelling to German National Library in Frankfurt to find out. The internet can only go so far! I travelled to Frankfurt with my four siblings to pay our respects to our aunt Ursula, who had died alone during the Covid pandemic. We had been unable to go altogether until April 2023.

Mapping the route of their separate journeys was also a challenge, not least because some of the places named in the diaries were now known by other names because borders had changed. German towns or areas now had Polish or Czech names. Using Google Maps allowed me to see the terrain in some places, which helped me picture how physically difficult the journey was under the circumstances—trying to get from A-B with little or no working transport infrastructure.

Sometimes, my research brought me to a dead end. That was difficult to accept, especially if I knew my mum would have had the answer since she was no longer here to ask.

I found my consolation in a quote from Mark Twain: ‘A successful book is not made of what is in it, but what is left out of it.’

AW And what about other types of writing? I know you write poetry, but are you intending to dabble with fiction at some point, perhaps?

ED Yes! Out of respect for my mum, my aunt and my family, I wanted No Way Home to be a factual account of that period in their lives. However, so many other unanswered, personal aspects were unearthed in the writing of No Way Home—there’s a thrilling novel right there! I’m excited, just thinking about it! Watch this space!

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?

ED  No, I don't have a shed!  I have a narrowboat! We live as continuous cruisers on our 57ft narrowboat ChristaBella, which means we travel on English canals and rivers. The longest we can stay is two weeks unless we’re in a marina. We decided not to travel as far in 2023, which meant I could be still and write instead of going along the towpath, opening and closing the locks every day. I translated/wrote at our dining table, sitting on raised, padded bench seats, similar to a caravan, with lovely countryside views out of the window or hatch. In order to prevent my neck hurting and my back aching, I set my iPad on top of the kitchen compost caddy, bringing it to my eye level. It was a game-changer! Earbuds were also invaluable, meaning Jim could listen to the radio without disturbing me. I like to work in silence. My other refuge, not often, was our bedroom, where the inspiration for a poem would sometimes come. Writing No Way Home was a completely consuming experience, in which I often worked with uninterrupted focus for hours on end.

Jim kept me fed and watered throughout and supported my endeavour to get my book published and launched by November 2023.

AW And finally, if you had a whole afternoon to yourself and could choose to spend it with any one individual, living or dead, or a character from a book, who would it be and what would you discuss?

ED This is a bit of an obvious one. I’d love to spend an afternoon with my mum and ask her why she couldn’t speak of her experiences in 1945, why she really came to England and was a man called Günter, possibly her cousin, her real first love. All my life, Mum only ever referred to having one cousin, Jochen. Then, a few months before she died, she told me she did, in fact, have another cousin called Günter. After she died, we found photos of a man called Günter in her bedside drawer, and later, letters between them and more pictures of them together, clearly in love with each other. The man in the photos has a strong family resemblance to my maternal great-grandmother, Martha Halamuda, whom you will have come across in the book.

The family dynamic was complicated by divorce and Günter’s father dying when he was 11 years old, after which Mum said she didn’t see him again. Or did she?

I have discovered so many similarities between my mum’s life and my own—I would love to talk to her, woman to woman, about all of that.

about the author… Elisabeth Dunleavy has researched and translated her German mother and aunt’s diaries to write No Way Home, her first self-published work.  A mother and grandmother, she retired from a 40-year career in healthcare in 2019, after which she worked in a French Ski Resort until the Covid pandemic began.  In 2021 she moved onto a narrowboat, ChristaBella, with her husband and explores the canals and rivers in England as a way of life. 

about the book… A personal account of separation in 1945 Germany; the physical and emotional journeys, made separately, by two sisters and their serendipitous reunion as a family. With themes of faith, philosophy and continuance, forced from their destroyed childhood home as girls, they become young women in a new world, their relationship forever changed.

You can read my review of the book Here and you can take a peek inside Here

You can follow Elisabeth on her Website and on Instagram

You can get the book on Amazon at Waterstones or Barnes and Noble

 

I'm Off My Beaten Track in Egypt...

... and heading further south to Aswan in the pages of my journal today.  Join me and my fellow travellers as we reach one of the last of our destinations...

BEGINNING OF THE END

For a change breakfast is leisurely. No rushing off at dawn to beat the sun and see another temple, monument or ancient site. I can dawdle over my sweet bread roll and I can have three or four cups of coffee. Not that the coffee is that good. In fact, it's worse than awful, like the wine. But as a strict coffee-only person, when faced with the choice of seriously bad coffee or no coffee at all, I'll take the seriously bad coffee. During breakfast, we leave our moorings and continue on the last leg of our river journey to Aswan.

As we head further south the sailing is better as the river is deeper. On each bank, the Nile is flanked by desert and the sandstone cliffs, Gebel Silsila. In the cliffs are fissures and what appear to be entrances to yet more tombs.

Out on deck, watching our approach to Aswan, I remark to my Fellow Traveller (FT) M that this really is the beginning of the end. Quite naturally she disagreed at first. But then, having thought about it, she confessed that I was right. I watched as the crew made sure we were docked safely. Lunch next ...

... Aswan is the site of the Ancient red granite quarry and this is our first port of call. These quarries were in use from as early as 2600 BC. The granite, both red and black, was used by the 4th Dynasty Pharaohs for the pyramids at Giza. Here there is also an unfinished obelisk. It was abandoned because it split whilst it was being cut from the bedrock. I'm amazed at the size of it and wonder what tools had been used to fashion such a thing.

Next the High Dam. The installation is heavily guarded and we can only wander along one small stretch. Lake Nasser seemed to go on for miles and was a deep Prussian blue. It looked like the perfect place to swim. Our guide told us there are crocodiles. And so the search begins. But the crocs are obviously very shy or very lazy. I wonder what bait might tempt them out of their hiding place ... one of the more tiresome FTs, perhaps? The dreadful G— that everyone seems to have shunned. For some reason the short refrain 'Never smile at a crocodile' pops into my head. I glance around at my FT and mentally will some of them to smile! But to no avail. The crocs are clearly Divas.

Our next stop was the temple at Philea, a short ferry trip across the lake island of Agilka. The temple was moved, stone by stone, to its present location before the valley was flooded. The temple is dedicated to the goddess Isis who was worshipped until as late as 450 AD. The walls of the monument depict her great magical powers and, of course, there is a shrine to her beloved Osiris.

It is late in the afternoon and the sun is casting long shadows through the columns leading to the first pylon. There is yet another significant shift in the style of the art and decoration of the walls and columns. The pillars themselves are very simple, but they are decorated at the top by representations of not only papyrus and lotus flowers but palm leaves of various sorts. Here there is also graffiti from every succeeding century.

The vastness of Lake Nasser, Aswan.

The sun is beginning to set as we leave the island and take our boat back to the landing stage. It is very peaceful on the lake and I have come to realise that I don't want to go home. I want to see more, to take in as much as possible and I find myself scrutinising the other passengers, the passing scenery and every living creature that comes into view...

... the evening's meal is an Egyptian buffet. The food was tasty and varied, shame about the wine! After dinner, a group of us sit on the sun deck telling ghost stories.  My contribution is my version of a M R James tale as far as I could remember the details.  A perfect end to a perfect day.

 

If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my earlier posts about Cairo Giza Solar Sailing Tell-el-Amarna Assiut  Abu Simbel Deir-El-Bahri Sailing and Egypt generally - just click the links.

There will be more from my Egypt journal next month.  Watch this space!

 
 
 

I'm reviewing A Supernatural Shindig ...

 ... an anthology of stories all created by Gianetta Murray.  Read on to find out what I thought ... 

A Supernatural Shindig is a collection of short stories all crafted by Gianetta Murray, a writer I have not encountered before.

As a reader and a writer, I love short stories.  A short story can perfectly fill the gap when you only have ten or twenty minutes to spare.  After all, when you’re waiting in a dental or medical surgery for your turn, a ripping read can take your mind off whatever might be your impending doom.  It also means you don’t have to talk to anyone else.  I so love that anti-social aspect of books!

As a writer, I really enjoy the stricture of creating a story in a fixed amount of words.  It means I can play with language because I have to make every word count.  I can also play with plot lines that I know just won’t make it into a novel.  And I can take liberties with characters I’m certain will never appear on the page in any other form.  Short stories provide so much room for the imagination and ideas that simply won’t fit anywhere else.

I’m very pleased to be able to say that Ms Murray appears to be having as much fun writing short stories as I do.  Every single one of the tales in this book is a little masterpiece all of its own.  We have ghosts and vampires, ghouls and zombies all wrapped up with a sharpness of wit that had me chuckling my way through the pages until the very last one.  So, I suppose it is quite fitting that this review is appearing for the first time today – the thirteenth!  A number that is generally regarded as suspicious.

There are fifteen little tales in this volume, and I’m confident that they will appeal to all readers, no matter what each reader’s usual and preferred genre of fiction.  Each story is unique in its setting, characters, and plot line.  They are cleverly put together, and the flow of the stories, from gentle wit to darker tales at the end, provides a logical progression through the book as a whole.  I can thoroughly recommend this selection of stories.

I understand this writer also has a novel that will be published later this year.  I will be looking out for that.  I hope she goes on to write yet more short stories, too.

You can follow Gianetta on her Website on Facebook and on Instagram 

You can get her book on Amazon

I am also very pleased to tell you that Gianetta has agreed to an author interview which you will be able to read next month.  Watch this space!

Come stroll with me …

... through the town of Vernon today.  You might be surprised by what we find ...

With a population a little short of 25,000, Vernon sits on the banks of the river Seine about halfway between Paris and Rouen in the département of Eure (that’s 27 if you collect the numbers!).  There has been habitation here since at least the 8^th century.  Back in 750, the town is mentioned in a document by Pépin le Bref, which translates as Pepin the Short.  Pepin was born in 714.  He became the first Carolingian King of the Franks in 751 and reigned until his death in 768.

Following the invasion of the Germanic-speaking Franks, who hung around for quite a while, Vernon suffered numerous subsequent battles and changes of ruler, even becoming part of an English territory for 34 years before being ceded to France in 1449.  At that time, Charles 7 occupied the French throne and had done so since 1422.  He is variously referred to as Charles le Victorieux (the Victorious) or Charles le Bien-Servi (the Well-Served).  Irrespective of his moniker, he became the King who saw the end of the Hundred Years War and, therefore, any further English claim to the throne of France.

The ancient heart of this town is now surrounded by modern suburbs, but I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that some of the original ancient buildings still exist.  As I’m camped in Pont de l’Arche, I approached the town from the northwest along the D6015.  As you travel, take care to note the view of the château at Gaillon which will be on your left as you are travelling towards Vernon.

The D6015 takes you straight into the suburbs and close to the centre of town.  I parked in a side street and walked the last 300 metres or so into the pedestrianised centre.  There are some fabulous shops and buildings, but what I want to show you today is the Le Vieux-Moulin (the Old Mill).  From the D6015, you can cut left down onto Quai Jacques-Chirac.  At this point, the Seine is wide and deep enough for massive river cruisers.  Keep walking until you get close to Pont Clemenceau.  From here, you can get one of the best views of the Old Mill on the opposite bank.

Construction of the mill began in 1600, and it is amazing that the building is still there as it appears to be suspended above the waters of the Seine with little support.  The location of the mill actually anchors the site of an earlier bridge that crossed the river at this point.  That bridge dated from the 12^th century and was constructed for military purposes.  In the following centuries, the bridge was repurposed, and five flour mills sat along its length.  The one that can be seen today is the last of those.  In the 1600s, all of the mills relied on the flow of the river for power driven through the waterwheels, which, according to the info in the museum, could be altered in height depending on the water levels in the river.  In the mid-17th century, the bridge suffered damage because of a flood, and it and the mills were abandoned.  By the mid-19^th century, when a new bridge was constructed a little further upstream, all that remained of the original crossing was the mill we see today and the remains of some of the original supports.

But there’s more!  The Old Mill survived the Franco-Prussion War and the Second World War.  Regrettably, the nearby second bridge did not, having had three further incarnations following damage from bombing and war.  That second bridge was finally and completely destroyed in 1944.

However,  the mill did not come out of the massive and sustained bombing of northern France in 1944/45 unscathed.  Following the cessation of war, the people of Vernon decided that the crumbling iconic structure had to be saved and preserved for future generations.

You can’t visit the Old Mill, but you can sit in the shade of a tree on the opposite bank, have lunch and wonder at the longevity of what is a beautiful but fragile-looking piece of architecture.

And that’s exactly what I did.  Lunch was an amandine - absolutely scrumptious - from one of the bakers in town.

You can join me on other strolls through the towns of Joinville Argentan or Pont de l'Arche  Just click the links...

I'm reviewing The Sea's Edge by Garth Pettersen ...

  ... on my blog today.  This is book four of the Atheling Chronicles.  Read on to find out what I thought ...

It’s quite a while since I’ve read historical fiction that stretches back to the 11^th century.  As a youngster, I moved from a morbid fascination with the ancient worlds of the Egyptian, Incan and Mayan civilisations to the world of the Saxons and the Norsemen before being entrapped by Agatha Christie and her ilk.  Had we had streaming, Netflix, Vikings and The Lost Kingdom back then, I would have been glued to the telly rather than reading.

It made a very refreshing change to pick up a book set in the Early Middle Ages.  It was also great to see a comprehensive glossary of terms at the beginning of the book, along with a list of real historical characters and their inter-relationships with each other.  I found these two items invaluable as I was working through the story.  It was also good to discover that I hadn’t forgotten everything I’d picked up from my early exploration of this period of history!

Despite the list of real characters, this book is a piece of fiction.  However, Pettersen is a retired teacher with a BA in history.  So I couldn’t help wondering how much of the action in the book might have been a possibility he had uncovered in his research for his degree or his series of books.  Having delved into my family history, including the contemporaneous social history, there have been many times when I’ve had a set of information in front of me, my imagination has kicked in, and a story with a natural consequential conclusion has popped into my head.  Perhaps I should invite Mr Pettersen to an author interview here on the blog, and then I could get his take on that.

Beginning in North Wales a little after Yule – that’s the time around Christmas and New Year in modern reckoning, but the actual period of Yule and its importance is still heavily debated – the narrative puts you firmly in the dark past from the very outset.  I liked the inclusion of little period details.  These were sometimes a short description, a single word or a reference to a commonplace tool or practice, all of which contributed to setting the scene and the time.

The action follows the life of Harald, the second son of King Cnute and, therefore, the ‘spare’.  Unlike his older sibling, Harald is not interested in the throne or the workings of his father’s court, but he becomes embroiled in state affairs when Cnute tasks him with curtailing the growing powers of King Rhydderch, who controlled vast tracts of land across Wales.  To take on his foe and succeed, Harald must travel to Ireland and persuade his father’s allies to commit to the cause.

With a reluctant hero in the form of Harald, who prefers the quiet life on his farm with his wife, the idyllic rural setting shifts from peace to battles and full-blown war.  The battle scenes were ruthless and eminently demonstrated the destruction, death and maiming that is always prevalent in what was essentially hand-to-hand combat on an enormous scale.  Does Harald achieve his objective?  Sorry, but you’ll have to read the book for yourself!

The narrative voice was gently paced despite the savageness of some of the scenes.  The characters are interesting, and I was especially drawn to Harald and his wife, Selia.  Insights into their inner thoughts and feelings enable the reader to get close.

Of course, this is book four in the series.  Will I go back and read the first three?  Absolutely.  I want to know where this all started and what I've missed so far.

about the author … Garth Pettersen is an award-winning Canadian writer living in the Fraser Valley near Vancouver, BC, where he and his wife board horses on their farm.  Pettersen has a BA in History from the University of Victoria and is a retired teacher.  His short stories have appeared in anthologies and journals such as Blank Spaces, The Spadina Literary Review, and The Opening Line Literary 'Zine.

Garth's historical fiction series, The Atheling Chronicles, is published by Tirgearr Publishing and is available on most online outlets.  Book four, The Sea’s Edge, has just been released.

about the book ... 1030 C.E.: Harald, the second son of King Cnute—ruler of Engla-lond, Danmark, and Norvegr—with his wife Selia, attempt to live as landholders in Mercia, away from the constraint and intrigues of his father's court.

However, on a rare visit, Cnute tells Harald he's being sent to the Kingdom of Dublin to meet with their Norse-Irish allies. Harald’s mission is to coordinate an invasion of the northern Welsh kingdom of Gwynedd to replace King Rhydderch who is growing too powerful on England’s borders.

Harald is reluctant to be involved in his father-king's affairs of state, and not just because his beloved wife, Selia, is unwell. Harald cannot refuse to go and assures Selia he will not have to take part in the fighting.

Once on his journey, Harold is not drawn to his Norse-Irish allies but comes to respect the foe he must kill.

Will Harald carry out his father-king’s commands to unseat a strong and just rule, or will he tread a more righteous road, which will destroy the life he and Selia have built together?

You can get the book Here

You can follow Garth on his Website on his publisher’s Webpage on Facebook and on Amazon

I'm Off My Beaten Track in Egypt ...

... and sailing on my blog today.  Come and join me as I introduce some of my fellow travellers to you and a new arrival comes aboard ...

SAILING AND A STOWAWAY

I've always been aware that when you have a random group of people together in one place, the majority are happy to go with the flow.  But there's always one who stands out from the others for whatever reason.  It's the same with a bunch of actors.  As a director, you select your cast, you get everyone together to begin rehearsals, and very quickly, the 'difficult one' makes him/herself known.  After nine days on board ship, I've realised that the same principle works for travellers, too!

On sailing days, we have tea at five, and yesterday, some of the cracks in our little community were beginning to show.  It is now quite clear that G— has been gradually and consistently shunned by about a third of my fellow travellers.  B— isn't doing so well in the popularity stakes either, but then she does smoke like a chimney and talks at 275 decibels.  Considering some of the comments she comes out with, I think she must be Uriah Heep's only living relative.  And then there's I— I'm-in-Civil-Engineering-you-know and his South American Queen D— who are fast becoming the ship's snobs.  At tea, it was quite clear that A— of Cumbria, a great tower of a man, had completely reached the end of his tether with I— and his wife D—.

Earlier today, I overheard some of our fellow travellers manoeuvring against some of the above-mentioned.  J— made representations to M— about G—.  J—'s case being that she had been singled out by G— and that he was deliberately sitting at her table in order to annoy her.

'I'm determined to have G—Free meals from today and onwards,' J announced to M— as they meandered along the deck in front of me.  J— and M— agreed that they would sit at a table together hence forward.

Their plan set, and I couldn't wait for lunch to see how well it was implemented.  Later, in the dining room, J— and her husband ensconced themselves at a table for five the moment the dinner gong rang.  She also carefully leaned the back of one of the chairs up against the table to indicate only four places were available.  Shortly afterwards, M— and her husband came into the dining room.

'May we join you?' M— asked politely, knowing full well that it was a foregone conclusion.  Then there was a considerable kerfuffle as the four of them realised that the fifth chair was very accessible to anyone who came to the table, including G—.  Like a game of musical chairs, they all swapped seats so that the fifth chair was in the most inaccessible spot!

I glanced around the room.  Still no G—.   I wondered if he was going to skip lunch today.

Then B—, cigarette in hand, came into the dining room, completely ignored J—'s beckonings, went straight to the immediately adjacent table and promptly sat down.  Next came the affronted mumblings and murmurings between the two tables.  B— drilled her cancer stick into extinction in her portable ashtray and announced at 562 decibels that she 'was staying put'.  And still, there was no G—.

By which time, I was having great difficulty keeping my giggles under control. Everyone seemed to have missed the point. If you do not want to sit with G— you arrange with another couple to sit at a table for four and only four!

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading alone.  Dinner was uneventful and the evening was spent watching Lawrence of Arabia and wondering about the new passenger that we had acquired. He or she was very shy and, in actual fact only K—, a banker from somewhere in the city, and myself were aware that we had a stowaway.

I was happily watching the film when a movement on my left caught my eye.  And there was the new passenger.  A creature of about 8 or 9 inches long with a larger than-normal number of legs, around twenty or so at a guess.  The brown thing - BT for short - took a casual stroll past the bar, stopped to look in for a second or two and then continued with their evening promenade.  K— and I exchanged puzzled looks.

The film continued and, as Lawrence was about to be shunned by the British Government, BT returned from their stroll, cast a sideways glance at the telly, waved both antenna at it and then disappeared into their hiding place behind a large potted plant.

You just never know who you might bump into, do you?

There will be more from my Egypt Journal over the coming weeks.

 
 
 
 
 

Come stroll with me through Pont de l'Arche ...

 ... I'm picking up from where I left you in November last year (you can read that post Here).  We were at the corner of rue André Antoine and a little further down the street is the church … 

And yes, it looks stunning, doesn’t it?  Sitting as it does on the high ground above the river, it completely dominates the town, and it can be seen on the skyline for miles before you get here.  Its position and size lead you to believe, at first sight, that it must be a very important building.  But no, it really is just the local parish church.  Come inside, and I’ll share its history with you.

The church, Notre-Dame-des-Arts, has been in existence since the turn of the 15th century. Transcriptions of the parish accounts show that stone was bought in 1499-1500.  The building, as we see it today, was created very much as a piecemeal project.  In 1501 the first chapel began to be constructed.  The north nave was completed around 1509, the vaulting much later and probably sometime in the 1540s and the south nave was constructed, vaulted and completed towards the end of the following decade.

The design and ornamentation of this edifice are very typical of French Gothic.  But what makes this particular building so interesting is the overall plan.  Unlike most other churches on this scale and of this period, there is only one door in the south-west corner.  In addition, the nave is flanked by aisles on both the north and south sides.  There is no transept or the typically gothic west façade that can be found on any number of churches/cathedrals of the same era.  So, I can’t help but wonder what happened here.  Is this particular building just the result of its piecemeal construction?  Given that most buildings of this size would have taken a number of decades to complete, one would have expected to see many more as uniquely laid out as this one.  Perhaps the real conclusion and explanation is about money - the original plans exceeding the actual funds, and therefore compromises were constantly being made during building.  Whatever the truth, the church deserves more attention because it is, very probably, a bit of a one-off.

Bricks and mortar done with, the story doesn’t end there.  Look at the altarpiece.  It dominates the whole of the interior and is built into a polygonal chapel extending out from the end of the nave.  That’s not so different from many other religious buildings.  But this was added much later and is baroque in style and created during the seventeenth century.  The organ was a gift from Henry 4, who was King of Navarre from 1572 and King of France from 1589 to 1610 when he died.  Henry 4 was the first of the Bourbon Kings.

Take a look at the windows whilst you are here.  They date from either the 16th or 17th centuries.  In particular, look at the two highly coloured windows to one side of the nave. These depict what was probably the major source of income for this sleepy little town with its vast church.  Men are loading and unloading boats at the river at the foot of the town.  After the Hundred Years War (1337-1453), most municipalities in northern France were verging on bankruptcy.  But the river, used for trade along the Seine and the Eure, may have been the reason for this town’s swift rise in prosperity following the end of hostilities.  Maybe that’s where the original income came from in 1499 to enable the purchase of the stone. Perhaps my contention above about the eccentricity of the church and the continuing availability of money is not so very far-fetched!

If you enjoyed reading this post, you might also like to take a stroll with me through Joinville or  Argentan