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Books

D Story for the #atozchallenge

2016AtoZChallenge

“Don’t want.”

Darren’s mother explained. “‘Don’t want’ means he doesn’t want to talk about school.”

Did the little boy not feel proud to have started at big school? Did he experience difficulties at school? Did I make a huge mistake by bringing up the topic?

Determined to make amends, I searched for a topic the boy would want to discuss.

“Do you like to play with toys?”

Dark eyes lit up.

“Do you have a special toy?”

“Dinosaur,” Darren answered without hesitation.

“Does the dinosaur do something?”

“Dinosaur big.” Daren raised his hand and looked up at it, smiling. “Dinosaur walk.”

“Does the dinosaur talk?”

“Don’t want.”

“Darren didn’t like the talking,” Darren’s mother explained, “so we turned it off.”

Disconcerted, I wondered what sort of child wouldn’t like a talking toy. “Do your friends like the dinosaur?”

“Don’t want.”

Darren’s mother shook her head. Did he not want to talk about his friends or did he not have any? Dressed in my psychologist’s hat, I began to suspect the latter. Dreading another ‘Don’t want,’ however, I preferred not to ask. Disparate thoughts led me to the common denominator. Difference. Difference caused unusual likes and dislikes. Difference caused other children to spurn him. Difference caused problems at school leading to unhappiness.

Donning my little girl’s hat, I warmed to this child.

 
WonderCon 2012 - Wash's toy dinosaurs from Firefly

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Books

C Story for the #atozchallenge

2016AtoZChallenge

Carly entered the house with some trepidation, finding herself in the entrance hall. Century-old furnishings greeted her. Carly took out her pencil and notebook to record everything. “Corner shelf for telephone, neatly recorded numbers in phone book beside. Colossal, printed phone book on shelf below. Cupboard – dark wood. Carpet fraying on stairs. Cold, cruelly so. Central heating apparently not installed (no radiator). Ceiling paintwork cracking, wallpaper peeling.”

Curious accounts had reached her from the neighbours. Common factors between them were few. Contrasts abounded in all but one word. Crackling was a sound all the interviewees reported hearing.

Closing the notebook, Carly stopped still and listened. Crackling – yes, she heard it, too. Concentrating on the source of the sound, she edged towards a closed door and put her ear to the edge of the door. “Coming from here,” she breathed. Clasping the large round knob with one hand, she turned it, one degree at a time. “Careful.” Coming to the end of the knob’s cycle, Carly gave the door a gentle push and entered the room, her senses on high alert.

Chairs, sofa, sideboard, table all from a previous era. Carvings decorating them – elaborate.

“Check for humans.” Calmness and confidence returned once Carly had determined no beings, alive or dead, were present in the room. Crackling nevertheless came to her ears and drew her eyes to the fire place. Coal, black and ball-shaped with red tips, filled the grate, while yellow flames danced around. Could the old man really be somewhere in this house?

Carly returned to the staircase, determined to solve the mystery. Creeping upstairs so as not to disturb anyone, she took an age to reach the upper floor. Creaking of the floor boards was unavoidable, though, and Carly looked up expecting to see an angry old man glaring at her from above.

Crash went the glass vase as it fell from the window sill at the bend of the staircase. Cursing her clumsiness, Carly looked up again. Change in the view came there none. Curious.

Closest to the top of the stairs, a door stood ajar, almost beckoning her in. Carly poked her head round to spy a man on the bed, eyes closed, face wrinkled, hair white. Completely still and probably the source of the unpleasant smell wafting to her, the man repelled her, but she knew what she had to do. Coming close to the bed, she held the hand and felt for a pulse. “Can’t,” she whispered, “but the fire…”

Charging for the door, Carly ran down the stairs, barely avoiding bits of broken glass, and threw open the door of the room she’d been in just before. Confusion reigned. Chairs, sofa, sideboard, table all the same as before, but…. Could she have imagined the fire? Crackling no longer assailed her. Coal no longer burned in the grate, nor did any smell of burning reach her.

Crazy, was she? Could there be any other explanation?

Clarity cleared the fog in one sense only as Carly made a decision. Comprehensive though her report would be, a roaring fire would not feature in it.
Fire (3678085977)

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Reviews

Free to Be Tegan: Book Review

FreeToBeTegan-MaryGrand-ResizedI don’t often post my book reviews on this blog, but this is a special book.

I was drawn to this novel before I’d read a word of it, because of the plot and its similarity to my novel, Neither Here Nor There. I was aware that this might lead to disappointment with the actual novel, but after reading the online preview I doubted that would happen. I wasn’t disappointed at all.

As I read it, I thought about the similarities between Tegan and my main character, Esty. I also considered the differences. But those thoughts belong in a different post. For now, I want to discuss Free to Be Tegan.

I was with Tegan all the way, silently encouraging her to find the right path for herself and to learn to recognise lies, wherever they come from. From the very beginning, where she’s among people she has grown up with but is now shunned by; to the outside world where she’s all alone; to people who care for her but don’t understand her and others who want to use her to further their own agendas; to the end, which I won’t reveal; I never stopped believing in Tegan and her story.

Several other characters feature in this novel, taking major or minor parts. Some of them seem all good or all bad at first. But as the story progresses, the good ones turn out to be not so good and the bad ones not so bad. In other words, the characters, like the plot, are true to life.

This novel should be read for its interesting and well-written story line. It can also be read to learn about the inside of a cult, as well as the difficulties of leaving one and acclimatising to the world outside. Highly recommended.

Disclaimer: Despite the similarities between Tegan and Esty, including their former lives, I’m not implying Esty grew up in a cult. I just wanted to make that clear.

As it happens, one of the minor characters in this novel will be here this Friday for the series: Letters from Elsewhere.

Categories
Books

B Story for the #atozchallenge

2016AtoZChallenge

Brenda stopped in her tracks halfway down the stairs. Bright blue eyes shone out of the pitch black of the night. Brenda counted four of them. Blurry eyed still, she was unable to make out anything else at all.

Blindly, Brenda felt her way down. Bare feet inched along ice-cold tiles and dipped cautiously down to the next. Bitterly cold fingers clutched the brass banister. Blanched cheeks sensed only by the eyes’ owners, willing her to continue her mission.

Before obeying their silent command, Brenda looked down again. Both familiar white forms barged into her vision.

Bother! bugger! and other b-words blasted her brain after she lost her footing. But she continued to clutch the bannister, avoiding serious damage. Bruises on knees and arms would be the only outcome.

Braving the rest of the stairs, Brenda thrilled at the soft touch of thick, downy carpet and fluffy white creatures. Blowing warm air on her frozen hands, she led her companions into the kitchen and closed the door.

Being inside the room negated the necessity for quiet and dark. Brian wouldn’t hear her here. Brenda switched on the light and gradually accustomed her eyes to it. Below her, with ears sticking straight up in the air and a patience she knew would soon wane, two fluffy white rabbits awaited their next meal.

"Schatz,Du hast da was am Auge!" 2014-06-03 23-30

Categories
Books

A Story for the #atozchallenge

2016AtoZChallenge

“Are you listening to me?” Andrew asked.

Alice glared at Andrew. “Are you having me on?”

“Absolutely not. Actuality is my middle name.”

“As you are not joking,” said Alice, “perhaps you’d care to tell me how a deaf person can listen.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Although deaf people cannot hear, they are well able to listen. Are you not aware of that?”

“Ah,” said Alice. “And your point is…?”

Annoyed, Andrew wrote in capital letters: “A LISTENER DOESN’T NEED TO BE ABLE TO HEAR. A LISTENER NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND ALL MESSAGES, VISUAL AS WELL AS AURAL.”

“Are you saying I don’t listen to you?”

Andrew smiled, nodded and wrote, “Apparently my message is finally seeping into your brain.”

“Am I allowed to take these headphones off now? Arnold Schoenberg isn’t my favourite composer.”

Headphones

Hmm, not one of my better stories. They will get better, I promise.

The B story will appear on Sunday.

Categories
Books Letters from Elsewhere

Letters from Elsewhere: Maria

Letters from Elsewhere

Today I welcome Maria, who has stepped out of the pages of The Infinity Pool by Jessica Norrie to share her letter to Anna. MARIA is a young girl living in a traditional village on a beautiful European island, where her parents run a café located near the site of a rather unconventional holiday settlement.  Anna is an older, more sophisticated distant relation who lives in the city.

Dear Anna

I’m writing to ask if I can come and stay with you if things go wrong. I’m actually incredibly happy! But I can’t tell my family about it, and my friends here wouldn’t understand, so it feels fragile, and my instinct is to set up an escape route. I’m a bit sick of working in the café, as well.

Do you remember that odd place on the road going west from here? Where rich people come for those weird holidays? We may have driven past it when you were visiting, though we usually go the other way towards the port. They stay in little wooden huts and all eat together at huge tables and it looks so uncomfortable. We’ve always wondered why people want to holiday there, with no air con, no bathrooms or even windows. I wasn’t allowed near it when I was little, and never understood why until one day we saw a man and a woman in the woods together, with no clothes on. You know what I mean. I know what they were doing now, but I didn’t then. Since then I often see them sort of waving their arms about and chanting or just singing a very low note over and over again. Some are quite fit: they do head stands and turn cartwheels and sit for hours like those Indian gods we saw at the exhibition that time I stayed with you. The only time we see them in the village is when they get stung by sea urchins and come limping in to look for remedies. Stupid people – they should just use their eyes better in the first place. They always seem so sad too – you quite often hear them crying or sort of wailing and howling. So odd. They say they’re looking for wisdom but they can’t see the simple things. Anyway if they were wise, my father says they wouldn’t be forever lighting candles. It’s crazy: with no rain for two months, the forest is like a tinderbox.  We’re all on fire alert.

So why am I going on about them? Well, a few days ago the boss from there came in for a drink and we got chatting. He’s really nice! He talked about his work, and invited me for a proper look.  It didn’t seem nearly so peculiar when he explained it all and you know what? It was so different to have a conversation like that with a man. He was interested in what I said, took my opinions seriously, and made me see things in a different light, somehow. Gradually I began to understand what they’re trying to achieve – it’s a kind of inner peace and helping people develop. It must be a refreshing kind of job, not like my life of just staying on the island and never learning anything new. He has lovely eyes that smile when he talks. He must be much older, but he doesn’t dress or behave like the older men I know. He doesn’t boss me, or say I can’t do things. In fact we – well, it’s wonderful, that’s all. I feel alive, like my body and my feelings are singing. I thought I’d feel somehow dirty or guilty when that happened, but it was close and warm. Now I just want it to happen again and again! Maybe he’ll take me to London – that’s where he lives most of the year. It honestly doesn’t seem to matter that we’re such different ages, or that he can’t speak my language – and my English is improving all the time. We lie on the pine needles and he teaches me so many things. I never thought my life would take this turn. It’s a brilliant surprise!

But I do have to keep it secret. When I go there I have to pretend I’m asking about a job; the only island people there are cleaners, gardeners and cooks. Everything seems very relaxed but underneath it’s two separate cultures. If my family found out they’d be furious. I can’t imagine them liking Adrian (that’s his name). He teaches happiness! To all these groups of wrinkly women in swimsuits, and then, by ourselves, to me. I don’t think the old English women (they’re mostly English) like me much either. They’re always smirking at him, trying for his attention, and he’s more interested in me! Well of course he is. He must be as much in love with me as I am with him – look, I’ve said it. That’s why I may want your flat as an escape route, if we need to get away together. Maybe he’ll ask me to marry him! If he does I promise you can be my wedding attendant. Stuff what the family thinks!

Must stop as it’s time to open the bar. I think he might drop in tonight. Oh it’s so hard to hide how we feel about each other, though he’s much cleverer at it than I am… I’ll let you know what happens next.

Much love

Maria

About The Infinity Pool

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

In this thoughtful novel set on a sun-baked island, Adrian Hartman, the charismatic director of the Serendipity holiday community, is responsible for ensuring the perfect mindful break, with personal growth and inner peace guaranteed. People return year after year to bare their souls. For some, Adrian is Serendipity.

But Adrian disappears, and with him goes the serenity of his staff and guests, who are bewildered without their leader. The hostility of the local villagers is beginning to boil over. Is their anger justified or are the visitors, each in a different way, just paranoid?

As romance turns sour and conflict threatens the stability of both communities, everyone has to find their own way to survive. This evocative story explores the decisions of adults who still need to come of age, the effect of well-intentioned tourism on a traditional community, and the real meaning of getting away from it all.

Published on Kindle Direct Publishing July 15th 2015 and in POD paperback July 29th 2015. No 1 in Australian Literary Fiction and Hot New releases September 2015!

Links to The Infinity Pool:

About Jessica

Jessica Norrie author photoJessica Norrie was born in London and studied French Literature at the University of Sussex and Education at the University of Sheffield. She taught in Paris and Dijon, and in the UK has taught English, French and Spanish to age groups from 5 to 80 in almost every educational setting possible.

She took a break from teaching when her two children were small, to study for and work as a freelance translator. She has also published occasional journalism and collaborated on a Primary French textbook (Célébrons les Fêtes, with Jan Lewandowski, Scholastic 2009).

Jessica sings soprano with the Hackney Singers, and wherever else she gets the chance in the UK and abroad. Less publicly, she plays the piano – slow pieces suit her best as she needs lots of time to figure out the chords.

She is fascinated by languages and has worked hard to make language learning approachable and fun even for the most nervous students.  But having always read voraciously, she would now prefer to concentrate on writing. “The Infinity Pool” is her first novel, drawing on many years of travel and encounters, and she already has several ideas for another.

Find Jessica on:

Jessica adds

I do have several free promo codes for Audio book reviews on Audible.com and Audible.uk if anyone would be interested, and of course am always happy to receive reviews anywhere else.

Categories
Books Letters from Elsewhere

Letters from Elsewhere: Ellen Dunne

Letters from ElsewhereI’m delighted to welcome Ellen Dunne to my blog. Ellen, who comes from the pages of An Ocean Divide by Elizabeth Grimes Brown, lives in Ireland. Her lover, Michael McBride, recently travelled to New York to join his older brothers in their expanding family construction company. Ellen hasn’t told anyone that she is pregnant with Michael’s baby. In July 1912 she writes a letter to Michael that distresses him deeply.

This letter is sent with a heavy heart, Michael; you of all people will know how difficult it is for me to write the words you are about to read.

On Friday of last week, I became Mrs Patrick Lafferty.  Now I felt that I should be the one to tell you of my recent nuptials, and not out of any malice, Michael. I’m sure you will agree and understand that I would not stoop to that. I wouldn’t be wanting you to hear it as a topic of some piece of idle gossip.

Although it pained me deeply to hear of your engagement to, Amelia, I believe is her name?  I cannot but wish you well. You must luv her very much, Michael, for I can’t think of anuther reason why you would break my heart like this.  You of all people. I would never have expected in all the world that you would be the one to hurt me so.

That dreadful, unexpected revelation in the letter that cum from Robert, to your Da, was as a shock for us all, especially as I hadn’t heard a word from yourself on the matter;  still, it is dun now, and, after all we have been to each other, I cannot but wish you well in your new life.  And, Patrick, well he is a good man, I do care for him; I know he luvs me and will take good care of me.

I feel there should be more to say, but I am at a loss for words to express my sadness.

Wishing you well

Ellen

This is the first time Michael has heard any suggestion of an engagement to Amelia. Who could have told Robert such a thing?

About An Ocean Divide

EB2Invited by older brothers, Joe and Robert, to join their successful company in America, 19-year-old country boy Michael McBride is booked on the Titanic. After surviving the sinking of the ship and unaware that the family business has been built on corruption with the backing of the Mafia, he works hard to learn all he can. Through distractions, distance and deceit, he unwittingly neglects his love back in Ireland.

Ellen Dunne, finding she is pregnant, and hearing false rumours of Michael’s impending engagement to his boss’s daughter, is panicked into marriage to neighbouring, older farmer Patrick Lafferty.

Over the years, feuds and resentments divide brothers Michael and Robert. Michael’s love for Ellen is as strong as ever and one of his visits back home results in a second pregnancy. Eighteen years pass before Michael finds out that Jack, Ellen’s son and a boy he has befriended and grown to love on visits over the years, is really his own boy, the revelation being announced at Ellen’s funeral. Jack rejects him out of hand. Can father and son be reconciled, will Michael find new love, and will power-hungry brother Robert one day rue his guilty past?

As the story follows the family over four decades, the tale of love and loss brings heartache for all – births, deaths and corruption creating a feud between brothers.

About Elizabeth Grimes Brown

EB1Elizabeth Grimes Brown, mother of four adult children, three grandchildren and a 1-year-old great-granddaughter, lives in England with her husband, Bill. Born in 1941 at the height of the ‘big blitz’ into a small parish in the Dock Road area of Liverpool, Elizabeth, like many children born around that time, learned to make her own fun through escapism. Pretending, or story-telling, became part of her daily life.

After being employed in some menial jobs, and while raising her family and working for 23 years as a bank clerk, Elizabeth was always keen on being creative, be it dressmaking, decorating or art.  There were a few successes along the way: she won a make-over competition in a national newspaper in the year 2,000, and a piece of her art was hung in the local library as part of an exhibition.

It was only on retiring that Elizabeth decided to enrol in a creative writing course. After 2 years and a grade 1 and 2 accredited by Lancaster University, she applied and gained entry to a BA Creative Writing degree at Edge Hill University. Unfortunately, due to home and family commitments, this exercise was cut short.

Elizabeth has been treasurer of her local Writers’ Group since 2004 and has gained knowledge, experience and confidence through public readings. She has had a few small successes with acceptance for Puffin books and short stories in a couple of anthologies, and while taking part in a letter-writing venture for the ‘Liverpool Sea Odyssey’ to commemorate the centenary of the sinking of the Titanic, her letters were amongst the hundred selected to be fired from a cannon at the culmination of the event.

Having three novels and one short story published with FeadAread.com, in addition to the paperback version, Elizabeth now has all of her work available on Amazon Kindle.

You can follow Elizabeth on her Elizabeth Grimes Brown Author page on Facebook or elizabeth0141@twitter.com

Her available novels include An Ocean Divide, Run Amy Run and Loving in Fear, all of which can be found on Amazon.com – Amazon.co.uk – Barnes & Noble – WH Smith- Waterstones – and The Book Depository.

Other News

Elizabeth adds:

  • I am at present writing a social history novel based on my experiences of growing up in a predominantly catholic parish in the early years following WW2.
  • I am also collecting a number of short stories to add to my existing short story on Amazon: A Life in a Bottom Drawer.
Categories
Books

2016 A-Z Blogging Challenge

It seems I missed Theme Reveal day, so I’ll reveal my theme today.

Here it is:

2016AtoZChallenge
Starting on 1st April.

Edit: To explain: (almost) every day in April I will post another story starting with the letter A and ending with Z. Other bloggers will have chosen different themes or may post without having a specific theme. You can find all the blogs taking part in the challenge here. You can also join in, if you want and have the time. I don’t have time, but I’m doing it anyway.

 

Categories
Blogging

Seven Years

I nearly forgot: today is my blog birthday.

Seven years ago today, I posted this:

Speech is silver, silence is…

…not golden. Just a fake gold that soon dulls.  Like the necklace I bought in Cyprus. They told me it was gold. I knew they were lying, but I bought it anyway. I felt I had to buy something because they gave me tea….

I’ve been keeping silent for most of my life. It’s time to talk.

So tune in again, keep in touch and don’t suffer in silence.

And I’ve been talking ever since. Thank you for listening!

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Uncategorized

York – The Forbidden City?

25.04CYorkBettysTeaRoomsResizedLast summer, as part of a long trip to the UK, I was in the northern city of York, because my publisher, Crooked Cat, organised an event for its authors there.

I hadn’t been to York before and didn’t know much about it, other than the fact that its history is long. I was also vaguely aware that Jews had lived there and misfortune had befallen them at some point… unsurprisingly.

So I started reading. Jews were first brought to England from the continent by William the Conqueror in 1066. Many of them settled in York because, at the time, it was the second most important city after London, with a thriving textile industry. And, as in so many places in those times, Jews weren’t allowed to own land or work in a profession. So they did the one thing they were allowed to do, because Christians weren’t allowed to do it. They lent money.

Many people needed to borrow money, so the Jews did well from money lending. This was good for the King, because he could levy huge taxes on the Jews. But the people who owed money to the Jews were not so happy, especially as the Jews seemed to be more prosperous than them. Moreover, in church, and particularly around Easter time, they were taught to hate Jews.

25.06CYorkCliffordsTowerResized
Clifford’s Tower (rebuilt)

These are the main events that led to the massacre of 16th March, 1190. On that day, the Jews who were still alive took refuge in Clifford’s Tower, which was then a wooden structure. But a mob surrounded the tower and then set fire to it, and the Jews decided on a mass suicide. Except for a few who left the tower and offered to convert in the hope that they’d be saved. But they, too, met their deaths on that day.

It is said that, because of that event, there is a “cherem” or boycott of York. That Jews aren’t allowed to set foot in York. That if they pass York on the train, they mustn’t eat or drink as they pass through and they mustn’t turn to look at the city. Yet there were Jews living in York for the next hundred years until they were expelled altogether from England in 1290.

25.10CYorkCliffordsTowerResized
Clifford’s Tower (rebuilt)

In more recent times, small numbers of Jews have lived in York, some of them having arrived on the Kindertransport. There was a synagogue that closed down, but very recently prayers have started to be held again in York.

So what about the cherem? Most researchers say that in reality there never was a cherem. But it seems to me that even if only a few Jews boycott York, it’s still a boycott, albeit an insignificant one.

I have a reason for mentioning all this now. Last night, I attended a very absorbing talk on this topic organised by HOB Rehovot. Barry Levinson told a rapt audience consisting mostly of immigrants from the UK about the events leading up to the massacre and the massacre itself. He also showed us the short film he made on the topic. You can watch the film here.

During the talk and in the general discussion that followed it, I couldn’t help thinking how history repeats itself. The more I listen to the news from the UK and around the world, the more scary that thought becomes.

25.23CYorkCityWalls3Resized
Stone set in the floor of the city wall