C.F. Dunn's Blog, page 9

Tyger, Tyger.

   Finding titles for a series of books can be quite a challenge. Many people turn to Shakespeare or the Bible for ideas, but for me, poetry provided the inspiration for the five titles in The Secret Of The Journal series.

The strong historical links to the 17th century in the series had me hunting among my favourite Metaphysical poets: John Donne, Andrew Marvell and George Herbert. Not only did they provide the titles for the first three books, but their poetry features and is referenced throughout the series, such as Mortal Fire from John Donne.

The second book in the series is Death Be Not Proud (John Donne – Death Be Not Proud)

‘Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe…’

By book three, Herbert had joined the series with his contribution: Rope of Sand (George Herbert – The Collar)

  ‘…Forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands,

Which petty thoughts have made…’

However, by book 4 – Realm of Darkness – I moved through the centuries. I found the quote I was looking for in Longfellow – appropriately enough, a resident of Portland, Maine – to reflect Matthew’s development and change.

   By the last book – Fearful Symmetry – I went back in time again to William Blake (Tyger,Tyger) whose poetry often reflects a mind seeking answers in nature for the mysteries of heart and soul.

‘Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?’

Given Matthew’s unique status, it seemed fitting somehow, to finish with a poet who understood both the sublime and the divine in Creation.

  Quotations and references to poems also figure in the books and are important facets of the developing story. The wonderfully tongue in cheek poem To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell is referenced in Mortal Fire by the juxtaposition of a print of the poet next to a picture of a cabbage in Emma’s office. 

‘My vegetable love should grow

Vaster than empires and more slow;’

In Rope Of Sand, Emma gives Matthew a book of George Herbert’s poetry in which they find their favourite poems: Herbert’s The Collar for Matthew, and Life for Emma. But modern poetry is also used. In Mortal Fire, Emma gives a lecture and I couldn’t help but include an oblique reference to a poem by Vernon Scannell (Horror Story) that resonated with me as a teenager at school:

‘…he recognised

Beneath the piteous brute disguise

The need for what might humanise:

The welcome or embrace that can

Change lonely monster into Man.’

 

Sometimes, a few words from a poem can sum up a world of meaning.

 

 

Moving On

I’ve been thinking about change a great deal recently, about people, places, the state of things. We’ve seen so much in the last year with Brexit and Trump, the death of personalities, and in my own life with Child Two leaving home for university, and Child One returning.

I’ve just purchased some more books – lovely old, well-handled books in calf bindings or tatty card – poetry, histories, and a biography. I’ve spent a lifetime collecting ceramics, glass, artefacts – things that resonated at the time or bore some sentimental connection to the past. And books. We have many, many books. They remind me of all the posts the late Carole Blake would share on FaceBook showing her recent bookish acquisitions. She was also an avid collector of modern jewellery and scale miniatures. Latterly, Carole and I would message about a piece of jewellery she had bought, or some Murano glass I had spotted. 

We met most recently at the Historical Novelists’ Society conference. We talked about life and the importance of being grateful for each birthday because it meant we were alive. She paused then, gave a small smile and said ‘yes’ in a way that meant it mattered. She reached her next birthday only a few weeks later, but it was her last, and she died – unexpectedly to most of us – shortly afterwards. Untimely death reminds many of us of the fragility of life and of what matters. I wonder what happened to all her books and dollhouse miniatures she avidly and carefully collected? What did it all come to but someone else’s things to be passed on or sold off for a trifle of what they had meant to the former owner. Why do we spend a lifetime collecting things that often have no meaning to anyone else? I look around my well-stocked home (cluttered, might be a more honest way of putting it) and know that all but a few sentimental items will be passed down to my children because they simply won’t want my life – they have their own and the things that are meaningful to them.

I like auctions – you never know what is going to turn up – but there is also a sadness associated with them. They are one of the means by which unwanted items are passed to new owners, and it is common to see the entire contents of a person’s home being sold off to strangers. Collections frequently find their way to auction houses, and it is easy to imagine a lifetime spent acquiring tribal artefacts, Roman coins, thimbles or lace bobbins, only to have them dispersed to strangers on the death of the collector. The items move on, form the basis of other collections, become part of someone else’s life. 

Writing inevitably means examining aspects of life. One of the themes in The Secret Of The Journal series is about change: facing it, fighting it, accepting it. My current novel-in-progress (set during the Wars of the Roses), also deals with change, from growing up, to facing life – and death – from the infinitesimal to the seasons that affect us all, the politics of the personal, to the history-changing events that touched many lives.

Change is a constant. Nothing stays the same. Even a rock changes over time to become the grains of sand on a beach, or the soil from which new life springs. We all move on.

FEARFUL SYMMETRY

‘Run, Rosie, run!’ I cried, gasping for breath, as my my daughter spun around and dashed towards the steps. From the perimeter fence behind us, strong, thin beams of light jerked wildly as black-coated figures climbed over and advanced at a steady run, spreading out like spiders on a web.’

Fearful Symmetry is the thrilling conclusion to The Secret of the Journal series.

“An addictive mix of suspense, romance, and the supernatural.” 

Jane Bidder, author of Guilty

Fearful Symmetry, 5th Book in The Secret Of The Journal series FINALIST in FOREWORD BOOK OF THE YEAR AWARDS, 2016

The post FEARFUL SYMMETRY appeared first on C.F.Dunn.

From First to Last: Mulled Wine and Marshmallows

Summer in the West Court, Cobham Hall

The weather stayed dry, fairly windless and very cold for the book launch of Fearful Symmetry yesterday. After having four launches in the Old Library of Cobham Hall, I opted for an outdoors version around a bonfire and with a BBQ to celebrate the whole of The Secret Of The Journal series and to bring it to a fitting close.

 

With writer Claire Musters in West Court

Reminiscent of the bonfire scene and hog roast in Rope of Sand (but without Matthew and the snow, sigh) the hot mulled wine (C17th recipe) and Maine apple cider helped stave off some of the chill. I salute everyone who braved the cold and thank you all for making the last launch of the series truly memorable. For obvious reasons, the photos couldn’t capture the atmosphere, but I’ll post a few here anyway: the bonfire with marshmallow-roasting, and with the lovely Claire Musters in front of West Court at Cobham Hall.

Special thanks go to the bursar, David Standen and the staff for everything they did to make the evening run on rails. Honestly, that BBQ was one of the best I’ve had.

One thing I didn’t do (because it was so cold my brain cell seized up) but had planned, was to thank those who made this series possible: Lisa Lewin, for listening to my first rambles about the series; Tony Collins who took the risk of taking on an unknown for Lion Hudson and Lion Fiction; author Pen Wilcock (the Hawk and Dove series) for her astute comments on the first draft. My father Bill Turnill, and friend and author Sue Russell (An Iron Yoke) for their eagle eyes, sharp wit, and astounding marketing. And everyone too numerous to mention – family, friends, and readers – who make endless hours of editing all worthwhile.

Bonfire and marshmallows

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind

There is something about wild weather that brings out the author in me. I’m not alone because for generations of writers, storms have been used as a vehicle in all sorts of literature. There’s nothing like a poem to encompass a world of meaning in a few simple words. Here is one of my all-time favourites:

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind

William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

Thou art not so unkind

As man’s ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,

That does not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:

Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As a friend remembered not.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Stirring up a Storm

As Storm Angus approaches the UK, I’ve been creating my own chaos in the kitchen making Christmas cakes. Now, my grandmother would have made the cakes and puddings ages ago, laying them down for a good three months – heavily spiked with brandy – to mature. I’m hoping that by soaking the dried fruit in brandy and spices for a month, I’ve gained a head start.

  So, with a little help from my friend, this is what I did:

I use the best ingredients I can. Although we are generally low-carb in this house nowadays, we make an exception at Christmas and Easter and use ingredients – including sugar, butter, flour, and dried fruits – to make this traditional English rich fruit cake. And spice – lots of spice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I tried using the big mixer to beat the eggs and sugar last year, but wasn’t happy with the outcome – the cake’s texture was sort of grainy and uncake-like.

This year, I’ve resorted to the hand beaters to create a smooth and creamy combination – vital to get the best result. Then I added the eggs. Normally, I’d beat these in a separate bowl before adding to the butter and sugar, but I thought I’d experiment this year and plonk them in the mixture. Esker thought this a dubious move.

Now comes one of my favourite parts – sieving the flour, salt, and spices (cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, mace, ginger, black pepper) – releasing the most aromatic and divine scents that always makes me feel Christmassy. Combine carefully so not to knock the air out of the mixture.

 

Added to the buttercream, it looks like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now for the boozy dried fruits with extra preserved ginger, orange zest (from unwaxed oranges), and cherries (or Child One won’t talk to me).

 

 

I used the big mixer to combine all of the ingredients.

The cake tins are double-lined (the high sides and double thickness helps prevent the top of the cake from burning). The tins are then filled with mix and levelled.

 

Pop in the oven for two to three hours…

 

 

 

 

…and here’s the end result.

 

This Writing Life: An Interview for Whispering Stories

Delighted to have been invited to take part in an interview on my writing life. Thanks so much for letting me chat about one of the things I love best! http://whisperingstories.com/the-writing-life-of-c-f-dunn/

Fruitful Harvest #1

                                                                                           

   Although the apple harvest has been a bit dismal this year, we have a bumper crop of figs. For the first time, we’re experimenting with preserving the figs, so have started the process off with making a syrup fortified with cinnamon, star anise, and allspice in the hope we’ll end up with a dish similar to one we sampled in Ravenna some years ago. Here goes…

Hedgehog Rescue: #3

So, here he is: Piglet – after lots of food (but not too much), water, and tlc. He’s a funny little chap, full of personality, parasites, and poo. It’s so good to see him snuffling about his improvised pen chomping mealworms like there’s no tomorrow. He’s still under weight, so we won’t release him back into the garden before spring. Remembering what happened to the two adults last winter, it’s not worth the risk. We’ll have to rethink the housing arrangements, however – the bathroom is currently out of bounds. Before anything else, however, our little hoglet needs a bath…

Hedgehog Rescue #2 – Update

Hedgepig update: Yesterday was furiously busy back and forth to the vets with various critters. The long and the short of it is that Lil’Pig (aka the hedgehog) is going to be fine. Child One caught him just in time. Penbode (the vets) were brilliant – can’t praise them enough – rehydrated the poor little guy, fed him, and gave him a thorough examination (he passed). He’s now back with us and Child One will probably have to get him through winter before releasing him in the garden in spring. So…that’s copious amount of hedgehog poo to clear up every day, plus the feeding of waxworms, mealworms and the like. Scrummy. #wildliferescue #hedgepig This is the only photo he’s allowed us to take so far: