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No Choice But Freedom: A Novel of Treachery and Triumph in Colonial America
Based on the true stories of English woman Elizabeth Bagley Morrison, who tried to make a mark in Colonial America with her far-reaching ideals, and William Servos Hult, an African slave who won his freedom and rose to prominence in the spice trade before immigrating to Canada. Mestern has woven truth through her fiction's fabric, creating a tale of people and principles at the founding of our nation.
- GenresHistorical Fiction
249 pages, Paperback
First published January 15, 2006
7 people want to read
About the author
Pat Mattaini Mestern
9 books9 followersA Glimpse Into a Well Known Author’s Life:
Hello there. Thanks for dropping in for a browse-round. Perhaps a little bit about me would pique your interest in my books? I spent my childhood years in an eccentric, chaotic environment which guaranteed a titillation of the senses. I absorbed information and history through the vibrant lifestyles and memories of my grandmother, mother, father and a plethora of interesting people that lived in the area. I was surrounded by books, music and stimulating conversation. I was allowed to read any book that piqued my attention, no questions asked.
Mother, who could turn a loaf of bread and a tin of sardines into a meal for twenty, was a down-to-earth, sensible person with a wonderful sense of humour. She was the backbone of the household and had direct links to both Sir Walter Scott and a passenger on the Mayflower. On the other hand, Dad was one of the most eccentric individuals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He was born in Canada to parents of Italian heritage and prided himself on being an original back-to-the-lander even though his land was only two acres at the edge of the village. He dabbled in greenhouses, an orchard, beekeeping . . . all the while working full time at a factory job to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads - barely.
Dad’s maternal grandfather worked on the Eiffel Tower in France before immigrating to Wellington County, Ontario. My paternal grandfather, Charlie Mattaini, designed and built many of the beautiful bowstring bridges seen throughout Wellington, Grey, Dufferin and Bruce counties in Ontario. My paternal grandmother, who lived next door, was the only grandparent that I knew. She was passionate about life, an excellent seamstress and an astute business woman, at a time when the words business and woman weren’t thought of in the same sentence. Among other enterprises, she ran a boarding house through which a large number of immigrants passed, each with an interesting story to tell.
I found that history, as taught in school, was boring but I revelled in the anecdotal/folkloric variety heard around the dining room table. I was, and still am, an avid, fast and retentive reader. I did have a great high school English teacher, and mentor, Miss Amy Yourex, who boarded with Grandmother. My learning included attendance at grade and high schools and a stint at a business college where I admit that I went more to learn how to type - fast - then for any other reason.
I’ve never lived more than a mile from my childhood home. As a sweet young thing, I married Ted Mestern, and shortly thereafter moved into a heritage 1879 limestone house, aptly named Stonehome, which is still our home. Assuming the role of wife and mother in this heritage building, that is so powerfully evocative of the past, really matured my potential as a writer of historical fiction, and local history. My creative bent was further stimulated by a stint at the local County Museum where a love of history really came to the fore and took flight. The bent was also fuelled by a full-time job that kept me attuned to local scenarios and happenings, of political and cultural natures for a number of years - all providing food for thought, grist for the pen.
After moving into Stonehome, Clara Young, the main character in my first novel, “Clara”, was quick to imprint her unusual talents into my fertile mind, even though she’d been dead for thirty-four years. Clara, an eccentric spinster, owned “Stonehome” 1879 through 1931. I began to keep journals, gather folkloric stories and finally turned to writing, my first love - after hubby and children, of course - much to Miss Yourex’s delight because she said that she always knew I’d be a writer. I well remember the pivotal point in this blossoming career. As I left the dinner table one cold, stormy November night in 1977, Ted asked what I had planned for the evening.
“I’m going to write a book.
Hello there. Thanks for dropping in for a browse-round. Perhaps a little bit about me would pique your interest in my books? I spent my childhood years in an eccentric, chaotic environment which guaranteed a titillation of the senses. I absorbed information and history through the vibrant lifestyles and memories of my grandmother, mother, father and a plethora of interesting people that lived in the area. I was surrounded by books, music and stimulating conversation. I was allowed to read any book that piqued my attention, no questions asked.
Mother, who could turn a loaf of bread and a tin of sardines into a meal for twenty, was a down-to-earth, sensible person with a wonderful sense of humour. She was the backbone of the household and had direct links to both Sir Walter Scott and a passenger on the Mayflower. On the other hand, Dad was one of the most eccentric individuals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He was born in Canada to parents of Italian heritage and prided himself on being an original back-to-the-lander even though his land was only two acres at the edge of the village. He dabbled in greenhouses, an orchard, beekeeping . . . all the while working full time at a factory job to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads - barely.
Dad’s maternal grandfather worked on the Eiffel Tower in France before immigrating to Wellington County, Ontario. My paternal grandfather, Charlie Mattaini, designed and built many of the beautiful bowstring bridges seen throughout Wellington, Grey, Dufferin and Bruce counties in Ontario. My paternal grandmother, who lived next door, was the only grandparent that I knew. She was passionate about life, an excellent seamstress and an astute business woman, at a time when the words business and woman weren’t thought of in the same sentence. Among other enterprises, she ran a boarding house through which a large number of immigrants passed, each with an interesting story to tell.
I found that history, as taught in school, was boring but I revelled in the anecdotal/folkloric variety heard around the dining room table. I was, and still am, an avid, fast and retentive reader. I did have a great high school English teacher, and mentor, Miss Amy Yourex, who boarded with Grandmother. My learning included attendance at grade and high schools and a stint at a business college where I admit that I went more to learn how to type - fast - then for any other reason.
I’ve never lived more than a mile from my childhood home. As a sweet young thing, I married Ted Mestern, and shortly thereafter moved into a heritage 1879 limestone house, aptly named Stonehome, which is still our home. Assuming the role of wife and mother in this heritage building, that is so powerfully evocative of the past, really matured my potential as a writer of historical fiction, and local history. My creative bent was further stimulated by a stint at the local County Museum where a love of history really came to the fore and took flight. The bent was also fuelled by a full-time job that kept me attuned to local scenarios and happenings, of political and cultural natures for a number of years - all providing food for thought, grist for the pen.
After moving into Stonehome, Clara Young, the main character in my first novel, “Clara”, was quick to imprint her unusual talents into my fertile mind, even though she’d been dead for thirty-four years. Clara, an eccentric spinster, owned “Stonehome” 1879 through 1931. I began to keep journals, gather folkloric stories and finally turned to writing, my first love - after hubby and children, of course - much to Miss Yourex’s delight because she said that she always knew I’d be a writer. I well remember the pivotal point in this blossoming career. As I left the dinner table one cold, stormy November night in 1977, Ted asked what I had planned for the evening.
“I’m going to write a book.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
February 17, 2021
The diver first caught my eye. Rocks. Second look and brief read made me buy it. Learnt some history in a fun way and I think most people should read this.
March 28, 2009
Excellent read. If you like a story which is set in the 1750's in England, Africa and British Colonial America, this is the book for you. An enjoyable read.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews