Visit to a Fair Isle
Last Saturday 'From our own correspondents' on Radio 4 featured a report from Fair Isle. The facts were right: the isle is the most remote inhabited island in the UK, lying half way between Orkney and Shetland, it's three and a half miles long, with dramatic cliffs. But for me it captured none of the magic of the place, the beauty or the sense of community. I suppose a flying visit in the middle of winter was unlikely to do that, but I hope it didn't put people off. Fair Isle was my introduction to Shetland. It was where I met my husband and people I still count as some of my best friends. Of course it was where Jimmy Perez my fictional detective was born.
In my head I spend a lot of my time in Fair Isle at the moment. I'm writing the last book in the Shetland Quartet. In it, Jimmy takes his girlfriend Fran back to meet his parents. I've created a field centre in the North Light and the theme has a distinctly ornithological feel - again taking me back to my writing roots. The working title is 'Homecoming Blues' and the form is classic detective story. What could be more traditional or locked room than a remote lighthouse on a remote island?
How would you like to join me there? Not physically, but as a character in the book. If you've reached this diary through my home page, you'll see that I'm auctioning a character to raise money for Vaila's Fund. We first met Vaila's parents Liz and Paul when they ran the Fair Isle Bird Observatory. Later the family moved to Shetland mainland and we stayed friends. The Harvey girls appear in RAVEN BLACK, a tribute to their fun and hospitality. Vaila, the youngest daughter, died when she was sixteen, and her parents and teachers have set up a fund in her memory, to allow young Shetlanders the opportunity to travel.
So if you fancy a virtual visit to Fair Isle, go to Vaila's page on the website and join in the auction. You could become part of the book and the place. Later you might like to go there for real!
Posted by Ann on Tuesday, January 6th 2009 @ 08:21 AM GMT [link]
Dancing to the Raven Black Quintet...
This is the Paris of idealistic adolescent dreamers and ad men. A cellar bar in the centre of the city - a real 'cave' with a low curved ceiling and white-washed walls. Champagne bottles in buckets of ice. A jazz quintet. Lots of beautiful intellectuals talking about books and politics. And me, neither beautiful or intellectual, but expected to make a speech all the same. I don't enjoy being the centre of attention - in fact I'm embarrassed by the large picture of me, grinning inanely, that's on the wall behind the band - but I'm hugely grateful to Francoise and Marie-Jeanne from Belfond for organising this fantastic event. A party to celebrate the publication of MORTS SUR LA LANDE (Telling Tales) and three of their other crime novels. The quartet includes a Belfond staff member and has called itself the Raven Black Quintet just for the evening. There is dancing apparently, but by then I've left, happy to return to my lovely hotel.
The Hotel L'Abbaye is something special. I stayed there last time I was in Paris, the guest of Belfond. It provides the base for interviews with journalists. It's right at the heart of the fashionable Left Bank, but when I wake in the morning I hear birdsong and water from the fountain in the small walled garden, not traffic. The staff are delightful, mostly middle-aged men, there's a log fire, good coffee and last night a little party to celebrate the arrival of beaujolais nouveau. (Although I think champagne and new red wine won't mix, I'm tempted to a small glass on my return).
For my interviews I have a great translator, Christian, but during the three days I feel that the language is returning to me. It feels like a sleepy cat stretching and coming back to life. I understand more questions, even put together some answers. So a new resolution: find some way of improving my French, so the next time I go, I might even join in the conversation
And DANCING FOR THE HANGMAN...
Martin Edwards has been a friend for a long time. I enjoy his series books, especially the Harry Devlin novels for their pace, humour and sense of place. I went to university in Liverpool and recognise the Scouse spirit. But in his-stand alones his writing hits a new level. TAKE MY BREATH AWAY is a witty satire on Blair's Britain, with one of the best first scenes I've read anywhere. Now his new book DANCING FOR THE HANGMAN has been published by Flambard, an independent press better known for its literary fiction and poetry. This novel considers the life and crime of Crippen - Martin is a meticulous researcher and is passionate about all forms of crimewriting. The fiction brings a new insight into the character and time of the notorious doctor and it contains some of Martin's finest writing. Definitely not to be missed!
Posted by Ann on Saturday, November 22nd 2008 @ 09:21 AM GMT [link]
Stormy weather
I knew I'd want a holiday when I got back from the US. OK, all those publishers' parties and lunches might not seem like hard work, but have you ever tried being nice to people for 3 weeks without stopping? And for a real break where else was there to go but Shetland? The end of October was a bit late for peak migration, but Tim was easily persuaded. There might just be a few good birds to see.
It wasn't just a holiday for me. The fourth book in the Shetland Quartet is set in the autumn, so I wanted to get a feel again for these wild and windy days. I took my laptop and sat in the beautiful library of the Busta House hotel to write. I was distracted by the view - the garden leading down to the water - and the noise of the gale. Some days the weather was so dreadful that I didn't leave the building, just emerging from the library at regular intervals to eat (and drink). Tim didn't see any exciting birds but the food and drink kept him happy too.
On my birthday, we checked out of the hotel and went to the ferry terminal to get the NorthLink south, only to discover that it had been cancelled. The forecast was appalling, apparently and the boat was unlikely to go the next day either. Our friends Pete and Jan Ellis offered to put us up and our last, extra two days on the islands were lovely. Friday night is Chinese food night in the Sandwick Club, so we ate takeaway and drank champagne as the storm got more and more noisy. The next evening we were invited to their neighbours' home, another impromptu party. By then there was a steady gale force 10 wind, ferocious squalls of rain and no electricity. We sat by candle light and talked and laughed until late into the night.
The weather was still dreadful when I was made a member of the Detection Club, the day after I arrived home. A great honour and I was a bit daunted running through the rain to the Middle Temple Hall to the dinner. I knew there was some sort of initiation ceremony and I was determined not to giggle. The Detection Club was founded by the great Golden Age authors - GK Chesterton was the first president, Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie were members. In fact everyone was incredibly welcoming and giggling was positively encouraged. It helped that my old friend Martin Edwards was being 'done' too and I'd met up with him and his wife Helena beforehand. Bob Barnard introduced me with some very kind words. As to the ceremony, I think that should remain secret. But it does involve a skull. And candles. And a degree of dressing up.
Posted by Ann on Thursday, November 6th 2008 @ 04:11 PM GMT [link]
Charm City
I didn't know what to expect of Baltimore, known in the US as Charm City. I'd read a couple of Laura Lipmann's books and had a sense of tension: this seemed to be a place where people from different races, backgrounds and religions, the wealthy and the very poor, co-existed a little uneasily.
In the end I loved Baltimore. I arrived 3 days before Bouchercon, the USA's biggest mystery convention, after spending a night with my old friend, Joni Langevoort and her family in Virginia. I'd been a fortnight on the road, staying in hotels, living off sandwiches and it was wonderful to have a relaxed Sunday with home cooking and good company. And perhaps talking to Joni's son Jackson about the pressure on High School kids to perform and conform gave me a better understanding of American politics too, went some way to explain that intense patriotism that Europeans just don't get.
My first impression was that Baltimore was scruffy. Washington had been grand and clean, but scruffy suits me better. I arrived just in time to sit in on the dress rehearsal for BROUGHT TO BOOK in the Pratt Library. The suspects were all staff and in the end gave one of the best performances of the event that I can remember. Kathy from Murder Loves Company took time out from her hectic preparations before Bouchercon to sell books. The following evening was my last Elderhostel programme. My old friend and Murder Squad colleague Martin Edwards had arrived in town early and I persuaded him to take over the lecture on the history of the British crime novel. It was as good as I knew it would be - witty, informative and dead to time.
Then Bouchercon. Friendly British faces - within minutes I'd bumped into Stuart Macbride and Zoe Sharp - and the chance to catch up with old acquaintances, British and American. The highlights? Talking about books with real enthusiasts - with booksellers Marilyn and Lisa from The Moonstone Mystery Bookstore, Flemington New Jersey, with Carolyn, Pari, Kathy-Lynn and Martin during our panel on sense of place, with Janet Hutchings from Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine over a good lunch. And with the readers, the enthusiastic, money-spending readers, who are so overlooked at these huge conventions. They pay our wages and often we treat them with too little respect.
I had my fan moments too. It was a delight to meet Arnaldur Indridason. I've loved his books since I first read Jar City and he was affable and relaxed, even as the Icelandic banking system was collapsing and he had no idea whether he'd be able to retrieve enough cash to get home. And although I didn't pluck up courage to speak to her personally I enjoyed hearing Laura Lipmann talk about her home city. After all, she'd introduced me to it through her books and gave me a sense of its complexity and its charm.
Posted by Ann on Monday, October 20th 2008 @ 10:52 AM GMT [link]
The joys of slumming it
Not that I am slumming it, of course. Not at all. Elderhostel has found me some lovely city hotels and on Tuesday, after the event in Athol, thanks to the friends of the library, I stayed in the Clamber Hill Inn in Petersham; that was simply gorgeous - a huge old house in the middle of trees with polished wood floors, rugs and open fires, even in the bedrooms. Deni and Mark were great hosts and the food was stunning - if you go, make sure you ask for the sour cream and raspberry pancakes for breakfast! You can check the Inn out at www.clamberhill.com.
But that's what my friend Sandy said when she saw I was catching the T back to Boston from Porter Square in Cambridge: 'You're slumming it then? Not taking a taxi?' We'd just had lunch. I was on my way back from the event in Athol and from signing stock in Kate's Mystery Bookstore. Sandy and I have been friends for years, since she wrote an article on British crime writers and came to chat to me.
It was raining and perhaps a taxi would have made sense but I like public transport. There's always the possibility of unintended adventure. It can pose a challenge, especially if you have lots of luggage - and despite the earlier post, I haven't managed to do the travelling light thing this trip. The New York subway is scary. It seems to have a completely random system involving letters and numbers, no maps on the trains, no intelligible announcements. And below ground the platforms look like the set of a horror movie. But the passengers are so cool... The Boston T is OK, with friendly staff and Washington, where I am now, has a clean and efficient metro.
I've done proper trains too this trip - most recently the commuter rail out to Fitchburg to go to Athol and the long distance train - as in nearly 8 hours - from Boston to Washington. Perhaps because I'm on my own I like the chance encounters, the overheard conversations, the social contact. Waiting in South Station, Boston yesterday, Senator John Kerry appeared, surrounded by aides and press people. He looked tired but just as he does on the television, set up his stand on the concourse and made a speech. I'd never have heard that if I'd been in a car.
Monday is Baltimore. I plan to arrive in time for the dress rehearsal (Dress rehearsal? Does that mean costumes? Fabulous!) of Brought to Book, which will take place in Central Library Baltimore at 6.30 on Tuesday. If you're in town early for Bouchercon, do join us!
Posted by Ann on Friday, October 3rd 2008 @ 09:17 PM GMT [link]
Letter from America
It's Sunday and day 3 of my US tour. I've fitted in so much though, that it feels as if I've been here for weeks. After a summer of rain in the UK, I flew into a New York that was damp and humid and waiting for a storm. Moses, my US agent, took me out to dinner and jet lag weary, I discussed books and politics as the clouds got darker and the first raindrops hit the pavement of 57th Street.
Friday was Port Washington, Long Island. Jessica the lovely librarian had organised a Shetland tea, with china teapots and pretty place settings, scones and cakes. The audience was much like the audience in a British library: polite. appreciative, interesting. We talked about the islands and murder and Dead End books set up a stall to sell. Afterwards, Lourdes, who's one of the most well-respected crime bloggers in the States, and I went out for dinner with my publicist Hector. Again, after a couple of beers in an Irish bar the discussion moved to politics. This is a different, less confident USA from the place I've visited on previous occasions. People ask themselves: 'How did we allow this to happen?'
My first Elderhostel event took place in a building just off Wall Street, and looking down at a half-completed building site I imagined the road haunted by panic-stricken bankers appearing out of the mist. In fact, the Elderhostel participants were welcoming, knowledgeable crime readers. After the programme, I made my way uptown on the slightly scary subway system to visit Partners and Crime in Greenwich Village to sign copies for stock, then back to my hotel. The air was oppressive and sticky, even in the evening when I went out to meet my friends, Fran and Norm. In the restaurant there was more politics, more dismay at the way the country is moving. They're liberals and see Obama as their only hope. 'He's inexperienced but I think he's smart enough to surround himself with good people' Norm said. Fran looked up from her oysters. 'Imagine McCain dying - he's old after all - and that woman being in charge!' She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
Today seems to have been all trains and waiting in stations. I left New York through the Grand Union Station, ornate and magnificent. In New Canaan Connecticut, a picture book town of clapboard houses and tree lined streets, we did Brought to Book. Everything wonderfully organised by Cynde Lahey. Despite the awful weather people turned out and the format seemed to work as well as it always does. Now I'm on my way to Boston in a rattling train that's already late. We've just passed through Providence, Rhode Island. I won't be switching on my TV when I reach my hotel. It's all politics and I've had enough of that this weekend.
Posted by Ann on Monday, September 29th 2008 @ 08:08 PM GMT [link]
Travelling light
I like to travel. I don't even mind hanging round in airports as long as I've got a decent book and there are interesting conversations to listen in to. But I don't enjoy being weighed down by a load of stuff. Tim, my husband, has packing down to a fine art. He has a holdall in brown leatherette that most airlines will take as carry-on baggage. Into that he can get his telescope, tripod, field guides and the few clothes he thinks essential for a three week expedition. Sometimes, even wellingtons. Binoculars he wears round his neck. I dither and always take far too much.
Back from a book tour to southern Sweden I was glad I'd put in smart clothes. There were dinners, a reception. Jeans would have been fine for the few days in Svedala, in Henning Mankell's Scania, where our friends Lars and Ingrid live in a long, low farmhouse. But not for the working part of the trip.
I'd been invited to take part in the Kristianstad Book Festival and Bonniers, my Swedish publisher, had invited me to a bookshop event in Lund too. Ing-Britt, my editor, met me from the bus in Lund. I'd only met her once at the London Book Fair, but by the end of the weekend we were gossipping and giggling like schoolkids. She'd been a student in the town and showed me the cathedral, the University Library with the huge spiral staircase made of oak, where once, it's said, a Danish king gallopped to the top of the tower on his horse. The event was in the university bookshop - 150 people had turned out to hear the Bonniers rep pitch the latest titles. This is a country where reading is taken seriously. They listened to me too, talking about the Shetland books, and then to Theo Kallifatides reading from his new work.
Theo is an academic, philosopher and novelist who moved to Sweden from his native Greece at the time of the generals. He writes the books simultaneously in Greek and Swedish and speaks fluent English, German and French too. Later, in the bar, the conversation was as it always is when writers get together: about the power of the marketing department and accountants, a regret for a gentler age when content was more important than style.
Theo opened the Kristianstad Book Festival. I wish I'd been there, but I was talking to a hundred sixth formers in a High School in the town. RAVEN BLACK was one of their set English texts. The next day my session in the Festival proper attracted a full house and lots of interesting questions. Ing-Britt and I found time to wander around the town in the sunshine. Our favourite place was a coffee shop that looked like a set from an Ibsen play, with bentwood chairs, marble pillars and potted plants. It sold some of the best cakes I've ever tasted. Ing-Britt bought a bag of goodies to take back to her husband in Stockholm. But not me. I travel light.
In a couple of weeks time I'll be in the US to promote WHITE NIGHTS there before ending up in Bouchercon. Already I'm wondering how I'm going to manage getting about - I'll be on my own and I'm travelling everywhere by train. Visit Shetland has sent me a bunch of goodies to hand out at events. Terrific, but on the heavy side! I've just printed out some of my favourite Shetland recipes to give away. I'll need books to keep me sane, and my laptop so I can get on with some work at quiet times. And won't it be cool then, so I'll need a coat and some sweaters? Maybe I should ask Tim to do my packing for me...
Posted by Ann on Saturday, September 13th 2008 @ 01:07 PM GMT [link]
