by Anne O'Brien
Dorothy Dunnett: The Game of Kings and the other five Lymond novels. I remember discovering The Game of Kings and being frustrated in having to wait until the rest were written to discover the final ending.
Elizabeth Chadwick: The Wild Hunt. Her first novel, which encouraged me to continue to read and enjoy Elizabeth Chadwick.
Georgette Heyer: These Old Shades. I read it in my youth when I first discovered Georgette Heyer and enjoyed the romance of it. I have read it again since and find it just as appealing. I recall wishing that I could write with such atmosphere and accuracy of detail and period.
Margaret Mitchell: Gone With The Wind. I was impressed by the scope of this novel, and her ability to create a heroine who is not entirely likeable but wholly satisfying.
Daphne du Maurier: Rebecca. A novel of wonderful atmosphere and tension.
Philippa Gregory: The Virgin’s Lover. I have read all Philippa Gregory’s novels and I think I enjoyed this one the most for the manner in which Elizabeth, Dudley and his tragic wife were brought to life in vivid three-dimensionalism. The pace of it is excellent.
Lindsay Davis: The Silver Pigs. I was hooked on the Falco series when I read this even though I would not count the Roman period as a favourite. I had to keep reading.
Phil Rickman: The Wine of Angels. The first of the Merrily Watkins novels, a female priest who tackles the problems and prejudices of the church, society and the supernatural. A must read for anyone living in the Welsh Marches—and elsewhere, I think. It has a true resonance of living in a rural community. I have read the whole series and am waiting for the next …
Winifred Holtby: South Riding. Living for many years in Beverley in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and so close to Holderness, I discovered this novel many years ago and found it completely evocative of the area, both of the people and the landscape. I have re-read it a number of times since, and can always envisage the wide, flat skies and horizons of Holderness.
Q&A ON WRITING
What do you love the most about being a writer?
I think it is the control factor. Manipulating and directing characters to allow them—or sometimes to force them—to tell the story so that distant historical events come alive through conversation and the interaction of characters, proving that in some ways we are not too different today from our ancestors. We are driven by the same ambitions and motivations. I love seeing the scenes develop as the characters speak.
Where do you go for inspiration?
In general, my garden. Weeding a flower bed or picking raspberries frees the mind to allow ideas to flow. But ideas come in the most unlikely places. I once plotted the whole of an historical who-done-it on a motorway in a traffic jam. If I need a specific atmosphere I might visit a place associated with the character. When researching Anne Neville I visited Tewkesbury Abbey and the adjacent battle field—Tewkesbury is quite close to where I live. I knew Middleham Castle well from my days of living in Yorkshire. Eleanor of Aquitaine presented me with some difficulties but a visit to Goodrich castle gave me the atmosphere of a small border fortress in the early twelfth century. Living in the Welsh Marches it is not very difficult to envisage England and France as they were in the twelfth century.
What one piece of advice would you give to a writer wanting to start a career?
To sit down and write. It is so easy, as I know, to make excuses of lack of time, lack of ideas, lack of somewhere to sit and write. I made these excuses for years. Whether it’s long hand or by computer, it will not happen unless you accept that it’s a time-consuming, often inconvenient and lonely exercise. On the other side of the coin, it can become an all-embracing way of life, bringing amazing enjoyment and fulfilment. But you have to make a start—and persist by working out a routine and sticking to it, even if it’s a somewhat haphazard routine.
Which book do you wish you had written?
I think it has to be Dorothy Dunnett’s The Game of Kings—see my top ten books—and the other five to complete the Lymond series. I was seriously hooked when I read the first of them.
How did you feel when your first book was signed?
Astonished, I think. The timescale from starting writing, through agents and publishers, and the inevitable rejections, is so vast and success seems to be an impossibility. It is difficult to remain confident and patient. The acceptance of my first book was wonderful—and definitely worthy of a bottle of champagne with my husband.
How do you begin writing characters based on real historical figures and do they ever surprise you as you write?
Reading to begin with—any biography of the historical character. Once I have a plan of their life—main dates and events—with overlapping plans to indicate where they interact with the other characters in the story—then I make a list of the scenes which will obviously bring some element of tension or excitement or emotion into the story. This is most important, I find. I also make a list of areas which can be omitted or given a mere passing reference, with the pace of the story in mind or its relevance to the overall novel.
Sometimes events just don’t fit and it’s as important to recognise these as it is the explosively important ones. Although sometimes it surprises me—that scenes I’ve jettisoned demand to be included when I begin writing.
Characters certainly surprise me. Sometimes they resist the direction I wish them to take. Sometimes they carry conversations into directions I had no idea of. Characters develop as I write, so I have to take this into consideration and allow them to be headstrong if that is what they wish. I know I must not force a character into an action that is not in keeping with the character I have given them. If a particular action is vital to the story, then it may be that I have to tweak the character.
Do you have a favourite character in Devil’s Consort and what is it you like about that character?
A difficult one. Eleanor or Henry?
Eleanor was a remarkable woman. We might not always approve of the choices she made, but we can understand the reasons why she made them, appreciating her failings as well as her strengths. She emerges from history as a very real figure, and we are privileged to know so much about her, given the vast distance in time between us and Eleanor’s world. She reminds us that our ancestors were flesh and blood, and acted for good or ill. Eleanor was relentless in pursuing her goals, and although happiness was transient for her, grief and loneliness never deterred her: even as an elderly widow she fought for the authority of her sons, and her own power in her beloved Aquitaine.
I hope readers can admire her strength and courage, as I do, in the face of a society dominated by men.
On the other hand, I found Henry utterly compelling: brilliant, mercurial, dynamic, and ambitious. What a pleasure it was developing his character as the man who would prove to be equal to Eleanor in talent, ambition and strength of will. With enormous energy, he spent most of his life traveling from one end of his far-flung empire to the other, covering vast distances in a day. Always restless, always hard-working, he rarely sat at ease, frequently standing to eat meals or conduct business, striding across the room while giving instructions. He even fidgeted through Mass, impatient for it to end.
Henry was intelligent, well read, but preferring action to ideas. Ferociously articulate, he was able to read and write, still rare skills even for rulers. Voracious in his search of knowledge, he was endlessly inquisitive, interested in everything that could be picked up and examined. He had a great sense of justice, giving his dominions the first trials by jury to replace trial by combat and ordeal. An able soldier and general, he was also addicted to hunting.
A formidable and forceful character, Henry’s ungovernable temper, running swiftly out of his control, was also an historic fact. He could be polite and affable but when his will was crossed, his wrath was spectacular. Thus Henry was complex and unpredictable, exactly the fascinating figure I have made him. The match between Eleanor and Henry would never be an easy one, but there is evidence of an enormously strong bond between
them, even in the final years when their marriage disintegrated.
What kind of research goes into your writing process?
General: I immerse myself in the period so that I know how people lived and to some extent thought. I need a sense of place and time for my characters. I have a good selection of reference books—I live near Hay-on-Wye, a magnificent place for browsing for books—on food and fashion, architecture and gardens, health, sex and witchcraft, so that I can put my characters into a scene. This research tends to be ongoing throughout the time I am writing the novel.
Specific: focusing on the lives of the characters at the centre of the novel as I first envisage it. For the most part these are secondary rather than primary sources although the opinions of contemporaries are invaluable.
Physical: I visit places associated with the characters, or similar venues to give me an idea of atmosphere. Sometimes I use contemporary music to set a mood. I use a local group who specialise in medieval and renaissance costume and dancing to give me some visual stimulus. Poetry and literature can help me to visualise the ideas that influenced my characters
TOP TEN BOOKS
Apart from Jane Austen …
Ariana Franklin: Mistress of the Art of Death. I have just discovered Ariana Franklin’s medieval crime novels although I previously enjoyed her historical novels written as Diana Norman. I love the humour, the authentic detail, the fine characterisation and the understated romance of them. I have read all four so far, and enjoyed each one.
Dorothy Dunnett: The Game of Kings and the other five Lymond novels. I remember discovering The Game of Kings and being frustrated in having to wait until the rest were written to discover the final ending.
Elizabeth Chadwick: The Wild Hunt. Her first novel, which encouraged me to continue to read and enjoy Elizabeth Chadwick.
Georgette Heyer: These Old Shades. I read it in my youth when I first discovered Georgette Heyer and enjoyed the romance of it. I have read it again since and find it just as appealing. I recall wishing that I could write with such atmosphere and accuracy of detail and period.
Margaret Mitchell: Gone With The Wind. I was impressed by the scope of this novel, and her ability to create a heroine who is not entirely likeable but wholly satisfying.
Daphne du Maurier: Rebecca. A novel of wonderful atmosphere and tension.
Philippa Gregory: The Virgin’s Lover. I have read all Philippa Gregory’s novels and I think I enjoyed this one the most for the manner in which Elizabeth, Dudley and his tragic wife were brought to life in vivid three-dimensionalism. The pace of it is excellent.
Lindsay Davis: The Silver Pigs. I was hooked on the Falco series when I read this even though I would not count the Roman period as a favourite. I had to keep reading.
Phil Rickman: The Wine of Angels. The first of the Merrily Watkins novels, a female priest who tackles the problems and prejudices of the church, society and the supernatural. A must read for anyone living in the Welsh Marches—and elsewhere, I think. It has a true resonance of living in a rural community. I have read the whole series and am waiting for the next …
Winifred Holtby: South Riding. Living for many years in Beverley in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and so close to Holderness, I discovered this novel many years ago and found it completely evocative of the area, both of the people and the landscape. I have re-read it a number of times since, and can always envisage the wide, flat skies and horizons of Holderness.
The next novel from Anne O’Brien is The Forbidden Queen
Released in eBook in February 2013
and available for pre-order now
‘Better than Philippa Gregory’ – The Bookseller
Turn the page now to read on for a free extract of The Forbidden Queen
‘Well, all in all, it could be worse. Or could it?’ A sly chuckle followed.
I was sitting in the place of honour for my wedding banquet.
‘She’s young.’
‘But Valois.’
‘She’s handsome enough.’
‘If you like pale and insipid.’
‘I’m surprised Henry does. I thought a more robust wife would bring him to heel at last.’
I flushed uncomfortably. Whatever I was, I was not a robust wife. The burgeoning confidence that had stiffened my spine at my wedding was draining away like floodwater into a winter sluice. Do they not say that eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves? How true. Unfortunately, my understanding of English had improved sufficiently for me to grasp the gist of the conversation between the little huddle of three English ladies.
Blue-blooded and arrogant, they had accompanied the English court to my marriage, and now as my bridal feast drew to its close, when I knew that I must stand to make a dignified exit beneath the prurient gaze of the feasting masses, they had moved to sit together and gossip, as women will. They were not wilfully cruel, I decided. I supposed they thought I would not understand.
‘Do you suppose she’s inherited the Valois … problems?’
‘There are so many.’
‘Madness, forsooth. Have you seen her father? No wonder they shut him away.’ The owner of that voice was a rosy-cheeked brunette with decided opinions, and none to my advantage.
I glanced at Henry, to sense his reaction, but he was deep in some discussion with his brothers Bedford and Clarence to his right that necessitated the manoeuvring of knives and platters on the table.
‘And treachery …’
‘Extravagance …’
‘Adultery …’
The eyes turned as one to Isabeau, who was leaning to attract some man’s attention, and the voices dropped to a whisper, but not enough for me to be deaf to their judgements.
‘She likes young men, the younger the better. Nought but a whore. And an interfering bitch when it comes to politics.’
‘We must hope there’s nothing of her mother in her.’ The brunette’s eyes flicked back to me. I stared stolidly before me, concentrating on the crumbs on the table as if they held some message. ‘Madness would be better than uncontrollable lust.’ A soft laugh drove the blade into my unsuspecting flesh.
The heads were together again. ‘It’s always a problem if the bride is foreign and of a managing disposition. She’ll want to introduce French ways. Pursue French policies.’ There was an inhalation of scandalised breath. ‘Will she expect us to speak French with her?’
‘Will she seduce our young courtiers, do you suppose, climbing into their beds when the King is away?’
By this time I was horror-struck. Was this what the English though of me, before the knot was barely tied? A dabbling French whore? And would I be expected to take these women as my damsels? Would I have no choice in the matter?
‘She doesn’t have much to say for herself. Barely two words.’
They are cruel, a voice whispered in my head. They don’t like you. They mean to hurt you.
I knew it to be true. They had already damned me, dismissed me as inadequate for my new role. I tried to close my ears but a little interlude of quietness fell, while the minstrels quaffed ale and the musicians tucked into any passing platter they could waylay.
‘She doesn’t look like a managing woman. More a timid mouse.’
Resentment surged beneath my black and gold bodice. This should have been a moment of spectacular satisfaction for me, a celebratory feast. The Mayor of Paris had sent Henry wagons full to the brim with barrels of wine in grateful thanks that he had not razed their city walls to the ground. My mother’s lips might twist at their treacherous pandering as she drank the fine vintage, but the quality was beyond compare.
Above my head the banners of English leopards and Valois fleurs-de-lys hung heavy in the hot air. I should have been exultant. At my side sat the most powerful man in Europe, and to my mind the most handsome, so how could I be so foolish as to allow these English women to destroy my pleasure? The clear voices continued in inexhaustible complaint.
‘She looks cold.’
‘Do you suppose our Henry can thaw her?’
‘He’ll need to. He’ll expect a son before the year is out.’
‘But can he be sure that any child is his?’
I grew even colder, isolated on a little island in the midst of a sea of conversation that did not include me, any reply I might have sought to make frozen in my mouth. Momentarily I felt the urge to stretch out a hand to touch Henry’s sleeve, for him to come and rescue me from this unkindness, and I almost did, but Henry was tearing a flat round of bread, placing the pieces at right angles to each other to represent—well, I wasn’t sure what.
‘There’s trouble brewing here,’ he pointed out. ‘And here.’
‘It’s not insoluble,’ Clarence stated. ‘If we can take the town of Sens.’
More warfare. Dismay was a hard knot in my belly. I drew my hand back.
‘Sens—that’s the fortress that’s the key to this.’ Henry nodded. ‘We can’t postpone it. Their defiance will only encourage others.’
‘There’s still time to celebrate your wedding, Hal.’ And I discovered that Henry’s brother, Lord John, was smiling at me. ‘You have a young bride to entertain.’
‘Of course.’ Henry turned his head, his eyes alight, his face animated, his smile quick and warm when he saw I had been listening. ‘But my wife will understand. I need to be at Sens. You do understand, don’t you, Katherine?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ I wasn’t sure what it was that he hoped I would understand, but it seemed to be the answer he required from me, for he began once more to reorganise the items on the table.
‘And after Sens has capitulated …’
I sighed and kept my eyes lowered to the gold plate before me. Where had that come from? I wondered. Any gold plate we had had been sold or pawned—or was in Isabeau’s personal treasury. So probably it was English, brought for this occasion so that they could impress us with their magnanimity. Perhaps I would always eat from gold platters. I was Queen of England now.