I’m very pleased to introduce my friend, author Jane Bwye, on her novella, published by Crooked Cat. Jane’s first novel, Breath of Africa, gave a breathtaking insight into the formation of the nation of Kenya. This new work is something quite different, thought it shares the same delicate insight into human relationships and packs an equally emotional punch. Here’s Jane, on ‘I Lift Up My Eyes’.
Thank you, Yvonne, for having me on your blog today. I enjoyed your book, The Calgary Chessman, and your second one, The Book of Lismore, is burning a hole on my kindle.
But I have a dilemma concerning genre and readership.
My second book published by Crooked Cat last year is one you can read in a few hours. You get right under the skin of the characters, and it compels you to engage your emotions and to think. Its ratings are near-perfect, and you could even emerge a wiser person.
But where lies its readership?
– One who enjoys involvement with a book
– Who admits to temptation
– Who has experienced problems within your family
– Who wants to escape
– Who hasn’t got time to read a full-blown novel
– Who appreciates a well-written, well edited read by a published author
– Who acknowledges there is something mystical in our crazy world
Have you any more ideas? Does the book remind you of another author? If you have a solution, I’d love to hear it!
Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt:
Ann lay flat on her back, grappling at the duvet with her legs. It always fell to one side if she turned over in bed, and she had been thrashing about more than usual. It was pitch black. The street light outside her room must have gone out.
Above her, an enormous vortex appeared in a dark swirl. It twisted through the ceiling, its core extending upwards and away, far away, beyond the height of the roof out into the vacancy of space. Then it turned in on itself, darker, its menacing core the colour of bruises penetrating closer and closer. Reaching the Earth’s atmosphere, it increased speed, the intense swirling giving birth to a solid black object turning, turning ever faster, boring relentlessly downward.
If she didn’t do something it would demolish her. Ann’s limbs were leaden, her eyes drawn magnetically to the relentless ball, held in its thrall.
She must do something before it reached her.
With a gigantic effort of will she flung her body violently away from the bed and landed in a tangled heap against the wardrobe. Her arm hurt. Dazed, she opened her eyes to look at the ceiling. The vortex had gone.
She knelt briefly in front of a chair to regain balance and settle her nerves, then clambered back into bed.
Robert – had something happened to Robert? She had to find out. She let her legs dangle from the bed and felt for her slippers, then pulled on a dressing-gown and fumbled out of the room.
There was a light under his door. He never closed it entirely. She pushed gently against it with a finger.
“Robert? Are you okay?”
The bed was empty.
She looked towards his built-in toilet, which appeared as a cupboard from the outside. The light switch was on.
He was getting deaf.
Then she heard the toilet flush. Feeling slightly foolish, she crept back to her room, thankful for the newly-carpeted floor. He didn’t like to be fussed over.
You can find out more about Jane Bwye author of the award-nominated book, Breath of Africa, on her website: http://janebwye.com/ and you can follow her author conversations and travel diaries on her blog: http://jbwye.com/
I LIFT UP MY EYES, a novella, can be bought from:
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/I-Lift-Up-My-Eyes-ebook/dp/B00O4FFU5C