"Escapade" in Burgundy

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you're driving down to the South of France from England, an overnight stay in a fabulous hotel adds greatly to the pleasures of the open road and sense of a holiday beginning. It's also one of life's happy circumstances that the halfway point lies in the Burgundy region, with its fine wines and rich cooking.

So it was that we turned off the A6, the Autoroute du Soleil, at Avallon, and on towards Vezelay. It was when we made a pit-stop at a country auberge in that village a few years ago that we drove past the moat of the Hotel Château de Vault de Lugny the next morning and thought, one day...

After all the hard work involved in delivering a new book, it seemed fitting for that day to arrive sooner rather than later. The drive down through a sweltering France - including gridlock on the Paris péripherique and various outbreaks of motorway madness - melted away as soon as we arrived at that mysterious green moat and the remote-controlled iron gates swung open to admit us. The seventeenth-century façade of the main building stood across a wide lawn, and a porter driving a golf buggy appeared to take our luggage.

 

Inside, there's a homely feel to the grand rooms, and the atmosphere is light and friendly - there's none of the stuffiness you can sometimes encounter in establishments that offer something special. It wasn't long before we were showered and changed and drinking a chilled glass of champagne outside on the terrace.



Dinner was served inside by candlelight in a room hung with tapestry. There were some eye-watering prices by some of the vintage burgundies on the wine list, but next time we want to spend 15,000 euros on a bottle of Romanée Conti (ahem, not likely) we'll know where to come.

As it was, we had a superb dinner, including a foie gras crème brûlée, and caramelised onion ravioli, for an extremely reasonable all-in price for an "Escapade Amoureuse": room, dinner and breakfast.

That breakfast was as good as we've ever had, anywhere. There's such pleasure in having breakfast outside, and here it's served on the terrace between the château and the lawns. The croissants and pains chocolats were still warm from the oven and the jams were all homemade. Instead of yoghurt, we were served a kind of pannacotta with berry coulis.

And here's a first - French breakfast tea! It was good, too - rather lighter and fresher than the usual English Breakfast blend.

 

After breakfast there was time for a stroll around the grounds - though not the hundred acres that comprise the estate - and a look at the tower that once housed a dungeon...

 ...before crossing over the moat again, back onto the road south.

If you'd like to find out more, you can click this link: Château de Vault de Lugny website.

It was Volterra!

I had a query from New Zealand through my website at the weekend: which was the Italian hill-top village where Tom met Giuliana many years later in my novel The Art of Falling? I've been trying to respond to say that it was Volterra, pictured above. But the mailer daemons keep sending back my reply. And as I hate to seem ungrateful for messages and unwilling to engage with readers who enjoy my books, I'm posting this in the hope that that the answer will get through!

The scent of fear

Before my summer can really begin, there's another edit of the manuscript to be done. In some ways this is the most enjoyable part of the process, the evaluation of individual words and images, the close work of the novel, if you like.

Why the spices? Well, I was trying to describe the scent of fear. It's a subtle but absolutely crucial part of the book, and clearly must be done with both precision and delicacy. According to scientists, the smell of fear is absolutely real and produced by pheromones when the body experiences terror. It's even contagious, in that other people react to the smell - usually subliminally, as this chemical part is very difficult for the human nose to detect.

So what exactly does fear smell of? Wild animals, it seems. Or rather, their bodily functions. A hint of musk and ammonia. Apparently, that old perfume-maker's ingredient civet oil, used to warm and deepen a fragrance, has a touch of it. Which could explain why Guerlain's Jicky, which contains it, can go a bit, well, manure-y, after several hours if applied too lavishly.

There's an element of sweat, obviously, and all I could think of was cumin, the pungent spice that gives Chilli con Carne the authentic whiff of Mexican Armpit. Somehow I don't think that comparison is going to work in a novel...but it's a good excuse to show this stunning display of spices, the fragrance of which rose like a Moroccan cloud (not sure that works either...!). Harder than it looks, this description business.

The French rose

 

Félicitations to the new French women's singles champion of Wimbledon, the astonishing Marion Bartoli! Watched the match live on the BBC, and before the match none of the pundits, not even John McEnroe - who always likes the idiosyncratic players - thought she could go all the way.

 

Well, she proved everyone wrong, didn't she, with near-flawless control, clear-thinking and the sheer sweeping strength of her shots. A style all of her own, a little ungainly sometimes, but it got the job done.

 

The Hungarian Lantern

 

 

July already - how can this be possible?! The weeks have flown by as I concentrated on the new novel, but The Lantern is still coming out in various translations. Here's the latest, in Hungarian, from the prestigious Budapest publishing house, Gabo.

I know some of you are as fascinated by book covers as I am, the way different countries use different marketing images for the same story, and this is an interesting one. It took me a while to work out that the night sky is actually an inverted lavender field. I do quite like it - it's definitely relevant to the novel, and the effect is weirdly creepy.

They've also played up a fantastic blurb quote from Tatiana de Rosnay, whose books are huge sellers all across Europe. This is what she wrote for the US and UK editions:

“I absolutely adored this beautifully written, modern Gothic novel, set in Provence, full of scents, colors and mystery. It will hook you in from the start and weave its dark, lush magic around you.”

—Tatiana de Rosnay, author of Sarah's Key and A Secret Kept 

 

So, thanks again, Tatiana!

The verdict

 

A week and a half ago, the manuscript was handed over to my mother, Joy. In some ways, this is always the most nerve-wracking moment of any novel I write, because I can rely on her to tell it how is it. "Intriguing," she will say, "but it's not quite there yet, is it?"

 

When I was a child, I read because she was always reading. As soon as I was able to, I worked my way through her bookcases. I can't remember a time when she wasn't passing on books that she thought I'd enjoy - eclectic, fascinating books that I probably wouldn't have picked up otherwise, full of interesting matters for discussion. Even when I handed over my work-in-progress, I came away with four books to read.

 

This time, there was an additional reason to be nervous: one part of the novel is set in wartime London, a time and place she knew well. She's a Londoner from south of the river; she experienced what it's like to be bombed out, to come back from a shopping trip on a Saturday morning to find the family house was a pile of rubble after a direct hit - luckily, all the family was out. She was seventeen, and planning to join the Wrens (the Women's Royal Naval Service) when the war ended.

 

She's a little younger than the character I wrote, but a few of Iris's traits, notably resourcefulness and quiet willingness to swim against the conventional tide, as well as many of the observational details, are hers. I grew up with her - and my father's - stories of what it was like to live through the Second World War. But could I write about that time in a way that seemed authentic - and would Iris be credible? 

 

Well, I got a couple of V2 rocket matters wrong - the "doodlebug" flying bombs didn't have quite the explosive power I gave them (you see, this is typical of the war generations, they don't make a fuss when it's not called for, and they don't over-dramatize). But otherwise, she thought it was spot on. In fact, she thought the whole book was "a real cracker"! She loved the story and the way it was written, and the subtle links between the three sections. So, three cheers!



Here is my historical consultant, photographed a couple of years after the war, and on the left in the picture behind, with her equally-beautiful lifelong friend Daphne, who sadly passed away earlier this year. They both had interesting lives ahead when the photo was taken in the park, and five daughters between them. Joy was a career woman, who met my father abroad and went on to live all around the world, from Russia to Kuwait, China, to Belgium and Singapore, and several stops between. Here they are, in a favourite photo, taken at my wedding in 1989.

So, thanks, Mum, for everything.

Artisan soap from Provence

 

A few treats this week, to celebrate a pause in work on the manuscript. As I type this, my study smells deliciously of lemony verbena - verveine - from the handmade soap I bought from a stall at Apt market a few Saturdays ago. The scent burst into the air, redolent of freshness and lime, as soon as the clear film was peeled away.

 

This is a Frutadou, a clear soap that incorporates a slice of loofah, to "energize, activate the circulation and exfoliate", pictured above, and the verveine below. And I have to say, that although the soap is very soft, almost like hard jelly, the effect is gratifyingly tingly - though, for me, it's the fragrance that has the main energizing effect, every time.

 

What is so lovely about this kind of soap and associated products - these are by Savons du Sud - is the sheer exuberance of the scents and the fact that most of them are organic, made only of natural ingredients, many grown in the region.

Plants, fruits and herbs are combined using aromatherapy principles to promote well-being, and support specific issues such as heart health, relaxation and even the relief of headaches. There are soaps made of reviving tonics and gentle moisturisers. How can anyone resist these colours and pretty designs, either?

 

According to the leaflet that came with my purchase, Savons du Sud has a stall at Forcalquier market on Mondays and Lourmarin market on Fridays, as well as Apt on Saturday morning. If you happen to be there, it's well worth finding. If not, there is a website and online shop to look around.

 

And while the scent of any of the soaps will bring Provence to you, wherever you happen to be, this one is specially designed to keep us coming back: Night in Provence - to combat gloom (moroseness)? Cool and relaxing, with olive and lavender oil...