Ned Hayes's Blog, page 74
November 15, 2014
“A room without books is like a body without soul.”
“A room without books is like a body without soul.”
BOOK QUOTE:
"The deer tracks are deep narrow holes thrust into...
BOOK QUOTE:
"The deer tracks are deep narrow holes thrust into the snow. I follow the tracks with my eyes. The deer stopped for something here. I stare closely at the frosty loam. Scattered eggshells, newly broke, the yolk still drying in the cold. The deer hunt eggs. I glance up at them ahead. Deer they are. The hart of heaven and his dame. A shiver runs from arm to arm. A lamb turns lion in the night." — from an (early draft) of the novel SINFUL FOLK
PHOTO: mirabilia-provocateur: …the Throne by Hans-Peter Henriksen |
November 14, 2014
Book Review from Book Ramblings
Sinful Folk by Ned Hayes
A tragic loss. A desperate journey. A mother seeks the truth.
In December of 1377, four children were burned to death in a house fire. Villagers traveled hundreds of miles across England to demand justice for their children’s deaths.
Sinful Folk is the story of this terrible mid-winter journey as seen by Mear, a former nun who has lived for a decade disguised as a mute man, raising her son quietly in this isolated village. For years, she has concealed herself and all her history. But on this journey, she will find the strength to redeem the promise of her past. Mear begins her journey in terror and heartache, and ends in triumph and transcendence.
The remarkable new novel by Ned Hayes, illustrated by New York Times bestselling author/illustrator Nikki McClure, Sinful Folk illuminates the medieval era with profound insight and compassion. (publisher)
1377 five boys are locked in a barn, burned to death and their grieving parents accuse Jews of this tragedy. The fathers decide to not bury the dead but to take them for the King to decide.
But the villagers each carry their own secrets and during their journey their secrets unravel and they learn surprising things from each other.
The story is told by Mear, a mute pretending to be a man, who lives with her son Christian on a remote village. Bit by bit we get to know more about this courageous woman, we learn how she became to live as a man on this village and how she met with the father of her son.
It’s a dark world and this is not a romanticized version of the fourteenth century. It wasn’t easy living after the Black Death.
My only complaint is that I wish it explained better when the story shifted from the present time or to Mear’s past. It didn’t take long to figure out where you were, but still that might have made the story stronger.
4/5
Published: Campanile Press (2014)
Format: eBook
Source: Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours
Book Review from Book Ramblings was originally published on NedNote
BOOK QUOTE:
"On most nights under the winter moon, when we have...
BOOK QUOTE:
"On most nights under the winter moon, when we have made our camp, around us echo faint sounds of that other hidden world – the one of meadow and forest in the night. The melody of whippoorwill, the cry of hunting owl, the scurrying rush of vole and chasing fox. This night, the land is empty. The silence is deep in stark and open heath, the woods carry no sound."
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
PHOTO: pxllypx: night
November 13, 2014
BOOK QUOTE:
"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal...
BOOK QUOTE:
"Stars steam away as a pale sun rises, hot coal dropped in a watery sky. Light seeps across the forest as the reedy shrieks of wood fowl echo in the trees. The path from our village to the King’s Highway is no road at all. To the east, that faint track leads up through the forest until it reaches, finally, the open country and paths that lead to other places. Hob is taking us beyond the bounds of the known world.”
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
Sky. Poetry in itself.
Sky. Poetry in itself.
November 12, 2014
BOOK QUOTE:
“We gather wood and help Tom build his fire. As I...
BOOK QUOTE:
“We gather wood and help Tom build his fire. As I pick up spare twigs and dried bracken, I wonder how far our sounds penetrate into the black forest, and how far our shouts echo along the White Road. Night birds warble, and small creatures rustle in the snow. The darkness around us presses down, as if to listen. The music of the wind rises and falls with the swirls of the snow, the creaking of the sea of branches in the darkness above us.”
"Sound carries far here in the trees. Snow slides off a heavy...
"Sound carries far here in the trees. Snow slides off a heavy oak as some creature shuffles through the woods, and ancient branches snap. Out of the corner of one eye, I see the flash of colored feathers. It is a yellowhammer, black eyes flickering in a hedgerow, tiny breast plumped out in golden livery, streaked with colors rich and brown. It was calling in its winter song. Moments later, the bracken flutters and the slight shadow of the bird darts into the woods.”
from the novel SINFUL FOLK
