Author Archives: Jane Cable

WRITERS ON THE ROAD: CAROLINE JAMES

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Meet Venus. My writing retreat on wheels.

“Come and write in me!” Venus whispered when I reluctantly went to view her. I’d never had any desire to be a caravaner. It suggested too much Hi-de-Hi! But from the day I met Venus last summer, it was love at first sight.

She’s a big twin-axle unit and, combined with the car, as long as an articulated lorry. Spacious with bedroom, bathroom, kitchen-diner and lounge.

Our first few forays into caravanning were in the UK as we took in the delights of Wales and Northumberland, with only minor mishaps with awnings and wrong turnings. I could write in the peace of the countryside or overlooking a beach. Venus has few demands. There’s minimum cleaning and washing and no gardening – no distractions to stop me from writing.

Now we felt prepared for an overseas adventure. Unlike a motorhome, travelling with a large caravan needs plenty of planning. Would we get stuck in the Eurotunnel? Would our ‘BipandGo’ get us through tolls in each country automatically? Would the pitches be big enough for Venus? The list of checks was long. But most significantly, would all the travelling distract from my writing?

Leaving in mid-December to head south through France, the adventure began, and I was too distracted to write as the days progressed. We enjoyed many stop-offs along the way, including Christmas shopping in Lyon and being frozen to the bone in Beziers during the coldest temperatures for years. But once over the border to Spain, the weather warmed up, and we eventually settled for several weeks on the coast, south of Alicante. Now Venus became our Spanish home, and she adapted beautifully. The awning was up, the canopy open, and wine poured. With a novel to finish and perfect, the peace and tranquillity of my writing environment was a writer’s dream, and the words flowed. Distractions from our European neighbours were pleasant. Bonjour! Guten Morgen! They called out and encouraged me to write.

Travelling around Spain sparked many plot ideas. I know that I will have future characters enjoying the mud baths at Lo Pagan on the Costa Blanca and visiting the eclectic rastro market in Calpe or taking in the rich history of Alicante. With so many festivals to enjoy too, I made prolific notes as I planned the outline of a novel.

Heading home, we took a different route. Driving across Spain via Madrid, I saw how beautiful and rich the country is as we encountered miles of orange groves and vineyards. Every town and village seemed to have a castle built precariously high on a hill, or a medieval church tucked around a corner. Approaching the Pyrenees, bathed in glorious sunshine, the view was magnificent, and I didn’t give the drive a second thought.

But now, I know how to write about fear.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped to sub-zero, and driving snow became a blinding blizzard as darkness fell. Venus is a heavy vehicle, and as we drove along the top of mountains with nowhere to shelter and a hundred miles to go, I thought I was going to die. Look out for a scene in a future novel when the terrified characters disappear into a wintery Spanish night – the story will write itself!

Our next trip will avoid the mountains in winter.

Happy travels everyone!

With love,

Caroline

 

Out now – THE CRUISE

 

PUBLICATION DAY SPECIAL: THE SECRET SHORE BY LIZ FENWICK

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I’ll say up front that for me, this is Liz Fenwick’s best book yet. It is just so very rich in everything; the sense of the era, the superbly described settings, the characters that refuse to leave your side.

The Secret Shore is also Liz’s first fully historical novel and her research is impeccable. Not only that, it is used so sparingly in both tiny period details and sweeping events, it whisks you back the Second World War in an entirely credible and unsentimental fashion that never gets in the way of the story.

The entire narrative is carried by the main character, Merry, an Oxford geography lecturer recruited to help the war effort. Merry is an expert in maps and they stretch into every corner of her world; her vital work, her hobbies, and even her personal life. If there is something she cannot map she is deeply uncomfortable. Liz uses the metaphor well and it never seems overdone.

War, however, throws up the unforeseen; the unmappable, the unfathomable, the tragic, the moments of laughter and intense joy. But it is also a time of transit, impermanence, the last time of all that career-minded Merry would want to listen to her heart.

Set mainly around Liz’s beloved Helford River, this book is a treat not to be missed.

When Liz told me in passing she had read forty books in the name of research, I had to ask more about how she set about that gargantuan task:

If I had known beforehand that it would require me to read forty books and multiple academic papers in order to write The Secret Shore, would I have done it? Yes. This story was one I had to write because I love the Helford River so much. The story of the secret flotillas in WW2 is part of the history of the river and I have wanted to write about them for ages. But I struggled to find a way until the character of Meredith Tremayne, a cartographer, came to me.

The starting point for my research was the book The Secret Flotillas by Brooks Richards. In the course of writing The Secret Shore, I reread his book three times just to keep straight the different operations running the routes from Devon and Cornwall to Brittany. After learning of the teams’ immense bravery, I made the decision to use the names of the real people in my novel and this led to more books to research… from general history, to biography, to memoirs, and finally to obscure titles to find the small details. Some I had also read previously while researching for The Returning Tide, such as the personal memoir of the woman who managed the Ferryboat Inn during the war.

In all this fascinating background work the key thing for me was to digest the information and then to step away. It’s far too easy to want to squeeze in all the riveting facts, but that would have dragged the story down. By the end of my research, I may have done the equivalent of a Geography A level, but more akin to the study of geography as taught in the 1930s.

For The Secret Shore I stuck to my tried and tested method of doing my research in chunks. To begin with, only enough to write the first draft, then as the story develops I commence the deep dive for the right information. I can if I’m not careful become easily led astray down the many rabbit holes of research. Through the ensuing drafts I keep seeing the need for further information and will keep reading more to add subtle layers, without overloading it, hopefully bringing the story alive for my readers.

Now the big question is where to put all the books?

 

 

 

EVA GLYN’S HIDDEN CROATIA: THE MUSEUM OF BROKEN RELATIONSHIPS

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“A museum about you, about us, about the ways we love and lose”

We stumbled upon it one warm September afternoon in Zagreb’s Upper Town, a sign so intriguing we crossed the road to take a closer look. A museum? For broken relationships? One where the artefacts are contributed not by historians or professional artists, by those involved; the heartbroken, the newly released, the despairing and the ever hopeful.

Zagreb may be the museum’s permanent home but it also has a virtual presence and outreach exhibitions. And anyone can contribute, either by sending their item to the museum or one of the exhibitions, or by filing their story online. Indeed you can upload a story that no-one else will see; it can remain your personal testimony until you are ready to share it, or timelocked until a date of your choosing.

The idea behind donating is this: “Recently ended a relationship? Wish to unburden the emotional load by erasing everything that reminds you of that painful experience? Don’t – one day you may regret it. Instead, send your item to our museum and take part in the creation of a collective emotional history!”

Photo credit: Museum of Broken Relationships/Sanja Bistiric

And which of us has not been there? The decision to part with (or not part with) a possession so intrinsically wrapped into a relationship that is broken beyond repair is one of the toughest. We have lost the person (for better or for worse). Would it be cathartic or even more heart wrenching to lose that birthday card, that pair of boots, that book, that kitten… Please don’t sent the museum the kitten – a photograph will do very nicely.

So what sort of things does the museum receive? The answer is anything and everything and the collection is growing so fast that only around a tenth of it is ever displayed. But it is all carefully curated and kept, seeing the light of day for themed exhibitions and when new space becomes free. Online contributions, in the form of pictures and stories, are published to the museum’s website within a few days.

The Museum of Broken Relationships began in 2006 as creative art project conceived by Olinka Vištica and Dražen Grubišić. Even now the fundamental idea behind it is to pull creativity, rather than destruction, from grief by giving something to the museum. The idea is a sound one. I remember many years ago hearing a rabbi on the radio say that if you make a mistake, rather than fret about it you should wrap it up in a beautiful parcel and make a gift of it to your god. Unlikely as it sounds, it worked for me.

Photo credit: Museum of Broken Relationships/Sanja Bistricic

If you visit the museum or one of its exhibitions you could be confronted by anything so do so with an open mind. Everything is displayed anonymously, with the dates and place the break up happened. A drawing, a doll, a dildo… a piece of belly button lint. Everything has a place here and a story. But one of my absolute favourites is a toaster. The toaster of vindication it’s called, the label pithy and brief: “That’ll show you. How are you going to toast anything now?”

To visit, contribute, browse, or support the museum by buying something quirky or hilarious from its shop, check out its website at https://brokenships.com/

ANGELA PETCH ON THE WEIGHT OF RESPONSIBILITY OF RESEARCH

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I felt a weight of responsibility to get my research right for The Girl who Escaped. A main male protagonist is based on my Italian grandfather-in-law and I wanted to respect Luigi’s courage, as well as accurately represent the plight of Jews in Italy.

The first book I consulted was: It happened in Italy, written by an Italo-American lady. Elizabeth Bettina wrote of an internment camp for Jews near her grandparents’ village of Campagna. They’d been treated with kindness and respect. This was a revelation. I had only come across stories of gruesome concentration camps. Did camps like Campagna exist in Tuscany?

I found a camp called Villa Oliveto where archives for internment camps were stored. Brilliant! The hunt was on! I found accounts and photos of this place in the 1940s.

We travelled to the picturesque location set in olive groves near Civitella in Val di Chiana, but the villa, a former orphanage, was closed and archives no longer stored there.

All was not lost, however. I wandered around the building, taking photographs and notes. Then, I came across a puzzling, fading plaque, which told me the villa had once housed British Jews. Extremely puzzled, I asked a local woman who was walking past. But she had no idea. I speak fluent Italian and this helps when researching.

I enjoy a research puzzle and when I discovered the explanation later, it inspired a new character. Bear with me…

A young woman called Shira is a Cyreneican Jew from eastern Libya. (A former Italian colony). After Italy joined the Germans in 1940, many Libyan Jews were sent to concentration camps where they were treated abominably.  Jews lost trust in the Italian government, and began to support the British. The British had first conquered Cyrenaica in December 1940 and abolished Mussolini’s racial laws. Many Jewish men joined the British army and were granted British citizenship. Here was the link I needed.

On April 3rd 1941, Italian and German forces pushed British forces from Benghazi. Jews were arrested by the Italians, especially those who had allied themselves with the enemy, and were sent to the notorious Giado camp. Some Libyan Jews, however, were sent back to Italian camps. I’ve never found the exact reason, but have allowed myself artistic license through detective work. In a brilliant Italian book covering the persecution of Jews in Italy I found possible explanations of why Shira and other Libyan Jews might have landed in Italy, instead of elsewhere.

The Italian government knew about extermination of Jews already by the second half of 1942 – when they’d heard of massacres of Jews in Russia, from word sent home by Italian officers operating on the Eastern front. And foreign Jews who had arrived in Italy, including Hersz Kawa from Siedlce, Poland, had also talked of atrocious treatment too. He and two others had managed to escape in an empty wagon of a train bound for Italy. They spoke to Italian guards who made sure they were sent to an Italian camp, rather than German.  Similar events happened in Vichy France, when French Jews escaped to Italy because they felt they would be better treated.

I’m hoping that the same thing might have happened to those British Libyan Jews mentioned on the plaque. Saved by Italian soldiers acting with conscience.

 

The Girl Who Escaped:  https://geni.us/B0BYC1V9NHcover

 

 

 

 

WRITERS ON THE ROAD: ALISON MORTON

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A small child, curls bobbing on a head she’s forgotten to cover with the sunhat her mother insists on, crouched down on a Roman mosaic floor in north-east Spain. Mesmerised by the purity of the pattern, and the tiny marble squares, she almost didn’t hear her father calling her to the next one.

Jumping up, she eagerly ran to him, babbling questions like many eleven-year-olds do: who were the people who lived here, what were they called, what did they do, where did they come from, where have they gone?

The father, a numismatist and senior ‘Roman nut’, told her about the Greek town founded 575 BC which became Roman Emporiæ in 218 BC, where traders sailed in and out with their cargoes of olive oil, wine, textiles, glass and metals; where people lived in higgledy-piggledy houses, traded from little shops; where the Roman army based its operations; where money was minted. And the people came from every corner of the Roman Empire to live and work. Boys went to schools and girls learnt to be good wives and mothers.

The little girl listened carefully to every word, sifting the information. Her hand in his, she turned as they left, looked back at the mosaics and asked her father:.

“What would it be like if Roman women were in charge, instead of the men?”
Clever man, my father replied:
“What do you think it would be like?”

I thought about it for nearly five decades, then poured it all into my first book.

Since that first Roman road trip in Spain, I’ve clambered over bridges, explored former bathhouses, barracks and forts and wondered at theatres and amphitheatres in different parts of France, Germany, Britain, Italy, even former Yugoslavia. And I’ve walked on Roman roads connecting these sites and settlements across Europe.

The via Domitia running along the coast from Spain to Italy provided a fast and sure link between the key province of Hispania and the imperial centre in Rome. Built in 118 BC, it’s still with us, wheel ruts included, over 2,000 years later. At Ambrussum in southern France, it formed a junction with the route northwards up the Rhone Valley into central Gaul. I stood on those slabs, where those three roads met, closed my eyes and ‘saw’ thousands of people, carts, mules, legionaries and the odd imperial courier, many of them shouting at me to get out of their way. The Romans were busy people, much like us today.

When writing my latest story set in AD 370 – itself a Roman ‘road trip’– I discovered how common it was for current routes to bear the names given to them two thousand years ago. The strada stalale 3 entering Rome from the north is still called the Via Flaminia; from the northwest, the Via Cassia (strada regionale 2) enters Rome heading for the Milvian Bridge as it did in Augustus’s day.  And you can still walk (or in some parts) even ride in your car along the via Appia.

The persistence of these road names seems romantic, but the Romans were hard-headed military engineers. For them, it was a question of reaching B from A in the fastest, most efficient and logical way. Small wonder than very many countries in Europe built their road networks following the same routes.

Travel on the ground is exciting, eye-opening and educational, but seeing and touching the roads, floors and walls and looking at their glassware, pottery, household equipment and thus imagining the people who walked, lived, and worked in those places takes us on a very different journey – the one into time.

 

If you’d like to learn more about my alternative Roman novels, Roman life and a journey through time, please come and visit me at alison-morton.com.

 

 

 

JANE CABLE REVIEWS APRIL’S NEW RELEASES

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The Forgotten Palace by Alexandra Walsh

A dual timeline based around Arthur Evans’ archaeological digs at Knossos on Crete, this book has an incredible sense of place, time and history. The heat and the dust from the excavations rise up from the page as the Victorian characters scrape in the earth and wash dirt from shards of pot.

In 1900 Alice departs on a grand tour of Europe accompanying her aunt and young nephews. She is heartbroken and in terrible disgrace, so her kindly family have sent her away to recover. In the present day timeline Eloise leaves for Crete on the day of her husband’s funeral wearing a red dress and red shoes. It’s clear she is glad he has gone – but why?

The book is packed full of history, myth, and dreams, with italicised sections which could be either of the latter, almost making it a triple timeline. But having read Alexandra Walsh’s other books I was not expecting this to be a simple love story and it is anything but.

A final word: don’t let the cast list at the front put you off – it really isn’t needed as all the main characters are so memorable.

 

The Cruise by Caroline James

I am not a great reader of romantic comedy, but I really enjoy Caroline James’ books. Not just because the protagonists are ladies in their sixties having a fabulous time, but because everything about them and their adventures is so beautifully observed and the pathos and humour eased out.

In The Cruise three single friends (one widowed, one almost divorced and the other resolutely single) decide to head to the Caribbean for Christmas. I loved the descriptions of the islands and it was wonderful to be back in a Barbados I recognised, albeit through the pages of a book. Anne, Jane and Kath, and the supporting cast of characters are bound to make you smile, so book your cabin now.

 

A Village in the Third Reich by Julia Boyd and Angelika Patel

I don’t often review non-fiction but I loved the premise of this book; to follow the life of a single village in Germany from the end of the First World War, and all through the Second.

It did not disappoint, and I would say it is essential reading for anyone interested in the era. It brings the human stories of the inhabitants of Oberstdorf in the Bavarian Alps to the fore, while setting them firmly in their social and political context. Whether dipping in and out, or reading from cover to cover, this in an exceptional history and meticulously researched.

 

The Girl Who Escaped by Angela Petch

This book is Angela Petch at her best, with a purely historical narrative set in her beloved Italy during the Second World War. It’s a gripping tale that explores the plight of the Jewish community as fascism tightened its hold on the country, and the efforts of the Italian resistance to return their nation to the tolerant society it once had been.

The Girl Who Escaped follows the stories of not only Italian Jew Devora, but her schoolfriends Luigi, a clandestine partisan, and Rico who may or may not be a collaborator. Their stories unfold and entwine, with Devora always centre stage as the world she has known crumbles around her when fascism begins to bite.

It’s an incredibly well researched book, so rich in detail that it absolutely transported me to Urbino during the Second World War, to circumstances that were at times so painful it was hard to read on. But, heart in mouth, I persevered, because I just had to know what happened. And that is the mark of a truly great storyteller.

WRITERS ON THE ROAD: CHRISTINA COURTENAY

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I write stories about the Vikings, and being half Swedish, it would have been easy to just set all of them in Sweden as it’s a place I know well. But where would be the fun in that? The Vikings were intrepid travellers and explorers, and journeyed far and wide. I had a wealth of places to choose from, and as I’ve been working on a series, I decided early on that each book would feature a different location. That hopefully makes it more fun for both the readers and myself!

Book five, Promises of the Runes, (out this month) is set in Norway, and I’d previously used Sweden, Russia, Iceland and England. For book six, therefore, which I’m working on at the moment, I turned my sights on the Orkney Islands. It was a place Scandinavians had traded with for centuries, and no one really knows exactly when they began to settle there rather than just visit occasionally. By the 9th century, when my book takes place, they were well established and had integrated fully with the previous occupants, the Celts. Most of the islands have Norse names – any that end in ‘ey’, for example, as that means ‘island’.

There is nothing better for an author than to actually visit a place we are writing about. It helps with descriptions, catching the essence of a place – its scents, sounds, nature and people. So I dragged my husband along on an epic road trip. A twelve hour drive up to Scrabster, followed by 90 minutes on a ferry, and suddenly there they were – the gorgeous Orkney Islands.

We were incredibly lucky with the weather and had beautiful sunshine and blue skies interspersed with fluffy clouds. The air is so clear and I found myself wishing I could paint the landscape just because the light was so brilliant. There’s a huge amount of history, going back to Neolithic times, but I was concentrating on anything remaining from the Viking era. We headed first to the Brough of Birsay, a tidal island that can only be reached by a causeway during low tide. Here are the remains of a large Viking settlement, the outlines of the houses clear on the grassy site. I could definitely see why they’d wanted to live in such a beautiful location! It was also perfect for use in my story.

We visited several other Viking sites – one at Orphir called Earl’s Bu and another at Deerness. To reach the latter, we had to walk along spectacular cliffs that were part of a nature reserve. The Vikings had a settlement on top of a 30 metre high sea stack on a promontory sticking out into the North Sea – an isolated place, but again, stunning. Nearby was a beach and cove, perfect for longships.

In Kirkwall, the main town, the historical museum had lots of Viking items, among them a bear tooth carved with runes. It might have been worn as protection against magic or to imbue the wearer with a bear’s strength.

The most poignant reminder of the Vikings, however, was in the Neolithic tomb at Maeshowe. Shaped sort of like a beehive buried inside a huge earth mound, it is reached via a 10 metre long tunnel only a metre high. A thousand years ago a group of Vikings had apparently taken shelter there and scratched graffiti all over the walls. There were more than 30 messages written in runes. It really made these people come alive for me and I could see them sitting in there, bored and restless. The connection was almost visceral and I was so pleased I got to experience this.

If you get the chance, do visit the Orkneys!

Buy link for Promises of the Runes – https://geni.us/ExsdDss 

 

 

JANE CABLE REVIEWS…

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Two research books, and two book club reads this time. My book of the month is Tracy Chevalier’s stunning story, The Last Runaway.

 

The Girl Who Left by Debra Gavranich

I read this book in the name of research, because I was fascinated by the opportunity to read a first hand account of the Second World War on the Croatian island of Korcula, and I wasn’t disappointed. Such gems in the English language are rare, and this family history is firmly rooted in the author’s mother’s memories, and well written.

As Marija’s story unfolds I found that I really cared about the outcome and her journey across the oceans as a proxy was fascinating. I must admit I only scanned the parts about her life in Australia, but my lack of interest was a personal thing and no reflection on the book.

 

The Last Runaway by Tracy Chevalier

Such a brilliant book, it took me straight to nineteenth century Ohio with all the harshness and iniquities of life there.

Honor Bright is a quaker from Dorset who accompanies her sister to America, where she is to be married. But the fates are cruel and the bride dies on the way, so Honor arrives in rural Ohio alone. The story revolves around her quest for friendship and happiness, but also her desire help escaped slaves in the Underground Railroad to Canada, which runs through the community where she lives.

Rich in description, strong in emotion, run through with tension, this is close to a perfect read. The characters became almost real to me and I was completely invested in Honor’s story and how her choices affected those around her. It was only the ending that left me feeling a tiny, tiny bit short-changed but I would still unreservedly recommend this very special novel.

 

Orlando by Virginia Woolf

If the author hadn’t explained in the foreword she’d started to write this as a bit of a joke, I don’t think I would have got it – and there were moments the author’s asides made me laugh out loud. I have to admit that I skimmed through much of it. but I did love the dreamlike elasticity of time, gender and sexuality and it was clearly a book ahead of its time.

Orlando is born a boy in the Elizabethan era and ages only a little and rather irregularly so in effect travels through time. But the real fascination for me was when he becomes a woman part way through the story and is therefore in a position to compare the two states.

If like a highly unusual read, rich in description and introspection, this is definitely worth a go.

 

The Sunrise by Victoria Hislop

I loved the premise of this book, set in the Cypriot resort of Famagusta, which was abandoned during the troubles in the 1970s which divided the island. However for me it didn’t completely deliver. For some reason I couldn’t buy into the love story between the nightclub manager and his boss, and although I appreciated the tensions which led to the arrival of the Turkish troops, for me it took far too long to happen.

What I did really love was the relationship between the neighbouring families of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots and how that developed. And as ever with Victoria Hislop, the sense of place was phenomenal and the historical research extensive. I just didn’t fall in love with it as much as some of her other books.