Lisl Reviews: To Catch a Falling Star

To Catch a Falling Star by Anna Belfrage

Lisl reviews and reminisces about The Graham Saga

See below for your chance to win a FREE COPY of 

To Catch a Falling Star

Drawing June 13
The drawing has been held and a winner announced at Facebook.
Please see new reviews for more chances!

The Prodigal Son is a recipient
of the B.R.A.G. Medallion 

As the eighth and final installment in Anna Belfrage’s The Graham Saga series, To Catch a Falling Star found me reluctant to read as well as hungry to devour it. I’d accidentally fallen in with Alex Lind, who beckoned me into her world—both of them, time traveler that she is—when I reviewed number three, The Prodigal Son. It transported me and, knowing I simply had to read all from the start, I set out, smugly comfortable with my fat stack of books, assured of a brilliant journey that would last for some time to come. Reading Falling Star’s opening lines began the end of this long journey.

Isaac Lind should not have drunk quite as much as he did that evening, but flushed by the success of his latest exhibition, he allowed himself to be dragged along, to be toasted in pint after pint of lager.

He caressed the wooden frame of the picture, a depiction of a somnolent courtyard[…] In the middle a fountain, a constant welling of water[…] In olive greens and muted browns, with the odd dash of whites and startling blues, the water spilled over the fountain’s edge to fall in transparent drops towards the ground[…] He tried to break eye contact with the falling water, but now he heard it as well, the pitter-patter of drops on wet stone, the trickling sound of water running through a narrow channel, and there, just where he had painted it, a minute point of white beckoned and promised, entrapping his eyes in a shaft of dazzling light.

A Rip in the Veil is a B.R.A.G.
Medallion honoree and Book
of the Month Award winner

Isaac’s mother, Alex, had fallen through a rip in the veil of time when he was just a toddler, and apart from one short encounter, has not seen her since. His grandmother’s paintings having played a role in these events, this opening then serves as foreboding. Now 32, a veteran time traveler at it again, certainly he may be able to see his mother once more. Apart from the vagaries of shifting through eras, the relationship is complicated by mother and son’s personal history, pertaining both to Isaac’s birth as well as his perception of Alex’s “abandonment” of him. Indeed, she chose to remain in the seventeenth century where she landed, and by the time Isaac falls through once more, she has raised a family, homesteaded in the colonies and seen too much in the passage of her “adopted” time.

Initially, Isaac’s appearance is welcome to those familiar with the saga, for he has not played much of a role in the previous installments, apart from his one “visit,” although Alex does guiltily think of him from time to time. But even new readers fall in quickly, given Belfrage’s masterful shaping of dialogue and events that fill in pertinent bits of information. Isaac is a sympathetic character and from the get-go, readers follow him hopefully.

As these events play out, Alex is experiencing a separation of her own. After years of feuding between her husband, Matthew, and his younger brother, Luke—often with terrible consequences—a truce of sorts has been called and the couple prepare to leave their colonial home, taking only a portion of their family back to Scotland. Having been forced out of their country in the wake of religious persecution, she now had grown roots in her new land and leaving it, and her children, is devastating.

Meeting up with Isaac once more, as well as returning to Scotland, produces mixed feelings within Alex. She must face her guilt and work through the confrontations with her confused and unhappy son, as well as the long-ago losses and compounded homesickness when she sees how far they have grown from Hillview, Matthew’s ancestral home. Her husband begins to bond more closely with Luke, who appears to be trying to sort out their past, and Belfrage give us greater glimpses into Luke’s life as well as his changing perceptions of his world and the individuals who populate it. Her treatment of the younger Graham brother is especially skillfully woven because we are kept in a questioning state: “Exactly how hard do old habits die?” Just when we think things have changed, something else occurs, bringing our assumptions into question, though knowing answers could come from any direction.

The author deals with historical reality with the skillful dexterity she utilizes in the preceding seven books. Religious persecution—in the colonies as well as Scotland—battles and factual historical figures all play a role she does not whitewash, even to the detriment of Alex’s relationship with Matthew. Belfrage moves us between eras and places with a hand so adroit we not only fall into the story, but also follow along with baited breath, around every obstacle and with an eye out for anything that might come between our players and their goals.

Life being what it is in seventeenth-century Scotland, adversity and heartbreak are constant companions. Even here, what characters see and how they see it, wraps us into their destinies, makes us care about them all the more. At times they make the best of it, while on other occasions, not so much: “The night was bitterly cold, the stars strewn like shards of crushed glass on a velvet background.” But so often even the bitter language of their love rises within a bouquet of poetry, reminding us, and perhaps them, that life is too precious not to move forward.

While the story opens with Isaac and moves at one point for a long spell back to Maryland, it really is Alex and Matthew’s tale, with the degrees of separation surrounding them: they are the nucleus, and they move forward with heartbreak and laughter, sharing the story of their loves and their losses, accepting some realities, while left wondering about others. At their now-advanced ages, Matthew and Alex begin to wonder about future Grahams. “Was there anything left of them in the twenty-first century? Would there be someone living here, in their place, and would that person’s name be Graham?” Given the strange way they came together, how exactly would this work? Even this element of the story unites characters with readers, as Belfrage weaves time together in such a fashion that we recognize ourselves in those who came before, and how their choices affect the lives we live today.

Having completed this last of the eight novels of The Graham Saga, it is perhaps easy to overlook—this is how seamlessly Belfrage writes us all together—that the re-reading of the series sets us all upon a circular sort of journey, much like the one Alex possibly faces, when her seventeenth-century self passes on and time marches forward until her original era dawns, and she is born again. Will she re-live it all in the same way we will when we go back to the beginning?

To Catch a Falling Star ties together some loose ends, answers some questions as its creator draws the Grahams’ story to a close. Alex recalls her first night with Matthew on a Scottish moor, and Jacob, her young son, gone too soon. She caresses a carved wooden infant, much as she did the one Matthew had made for her on that moor, as she agonized over her feelings for the baby Isaac. As we—reader and Alex alike—recall the start of her journey, she and Matthew are passing into a new phase of life. “Colour was returning to their world, greys morphing back to greens and browns, reds and blues.” One can’t help but recall the colors Isaac sees just before his second passage, as one world spills into another, both then and now.

It is a difficult moment, for all the remembering, and new questions, about future as well as past, and knowing this is the end of the long journey once embarked upon with such pleasure, aware there was so much more ahead. Alex herself used to say she would make the same choice—to stay—if she were to do it all over again. For all the heartbreak, grief and terror, there is also immense joy, love and bonding of souls in these tales, these “desert island books,” as another author refers to them, and like Alex, we would do it all over again as well. And we will.  

Anna Belfrage has so generously offered a Kindle copy of To Catch a Falling Star for one lucky winner. For your chance to win, simply comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread, located here.  

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See Louise Rule's sister review for 
To Catch a Falling Star 

Anna Belfrage can be found on Amazon, Twitter, Facebook, on her website and at her fantabulous blog, where you can learn much more about the author, her projects, the Grahams and her own world.

Lisl's Bits and Bobs: Of Pies, Books and Other Essentials, an Interview with Anna Belfrage

Of Pies, Books and Other Essentials

By now, Anna and I know each other surprisingly well for two people who've only met over the Internet. I'm definitely mindful that she's a chocolate addict; she's aware I'm not. What more does one need to know? Oh, right: that we both love books, magical stories and northern summers. 

And it was magical indeed that we were recently able to sit down together for a little chat.

(Remember to see below for information re: the giveaway!)

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Hello, Anna, so good to see you again! It’s been awhile since we’ve sat down for a chat together! Thanks so much for joining me here today. I got a little ambitious this time. (gestures to plate)

What, you’ve made me chocolate torte – and you don’t even like chocolate? How lucky I brought a lemon meringue pie! (whips out pie)

Wow, just as you promised! That was super sweet! Although… (peers at pie)…it’s a bit, umm, droopy?

I know, the meringue looks sort of weird, the heat in my oven is a bit uneven, but I can assure you it tastes great.

I’m all for testing that theory! (picks up cutter) Well, first of all I’d like to congratulate you on winning The Review’s Book of the Month award! I found myself becoming more and more excited as reveal day drew closer, that’s how much I wanted people to know about A Rip in the Veil.

I think I’m as excited as you are – and very, very honoured. To be quite honest, I’ve been considering to relearn how to cartwheel just to celebrate, but that little effort resulted in a sprained wrist – and three sons who were falling over laughing. Huh: as if they can cartwheel!

(chuckles) You spoke briefly last time about Alex, who travels in time back to 17^th century Scotland and meets up with Matthew Graham, and indicated she was not modeled on any person you knew. What about other characters or events? Do any of them have roots in past memories? I suppose I’m fascinated when I learn of the way writers bring some of their memories to life in association with those who populate their stories. If they're all new from your imagination, how did they all develop—many at once or did they come as you went along? Do you have full backgrounds laid out for them?

The more I write, the more I realise that characters spring into life through different channels. Quite often, I see someone doing something – like the auditor who had this habit of always fiddling with her long hair. In my books, it is Matthew doing the fiddling with Alex’s hair, but the gesture comes from a PWC [Price Waterhouse Cooper] partner.

Some characters do have a real life model. Mrs Gordon in A Rip in the Veil owes a lot to Elsa, my mother-in-law. It was Elsa who taught me to knit, it was Elsa who laughed her head off the first time we met and the first thing that happened was that my pants split all along the inside seam. (What can I say? I wanted to impress, so I wore my best pants, unfortunately a tad too tight.)

In general, no, my characters do not appear as fully-fledged Athenas, springing out to meet the world. Some are reticent – Matthew did not want to share the humiliating experiences at the hands of his wife and brother – some are too unformed. Usually, they come to me as voices first, I hear snippets of conversations, words that allow me to grasp how they think and why they think that way. From the voices, I progress to visual impressions – but I am not interested in detailed descriptions of what they might look like, I want my readers to fill in the blanks for themselves. I think that as a writer, one must decide which characters need a full background and which don’t – but even the secondary personages must be brought to life, become relevant to the protagonists. Otherwise, they serve no purpose.

What is important when writing historical fiction is to ensure your characters fit the period. This requires a lot of research – very varied research covering religious views, reading matters, dress, diet, etc. What I want to achieve is a sense of immersion that will allow me to paint the period for my readers, without coming across as a heavy-handed know-all. A fine balancing act, let me tell you.

What does your writing day look like? What are some of your consistent habits that pave the way through your writing sessions? Do you set a certain word count goal for each day?

My writing day is very much built round my professional persona. I work an average 55-60 hour week, and per definition, writing is something I do in my spare time. I write something every day. Every day. When I’m doing first drafts, I average 1,500 - 2,000 words a day, while also writing blog posts and stuff like that.  My books tend to be somewhere around 120,000 words, give or take, so that means I finish a draft in 60 – 90 days, after which I am totally wiped out for a week or so, my mind numb.

When I’m not in first draft mode, I probably write half as much a day, mostly rewrites or little jottings that will, over time, become a new book.

Did you have the book (or series) idea and map it out or outline it before you started? Or did you write events out as they happened? What are some difficulties you came up against when writing the novel? What was the easiest part of writing this book?

I had a beginning, I had a couple of scenes, and I had four different endings, one so horribly sad I still can’t read it without crying. 

The major challenge occurs when you realise that the pivotal scene you’d spent so much time developing isn’t going to work because the characters have become very different from what you originally envisioned, and they would NEVER act that way.

Not so sure there was an easy part, but it sure helped that Alex and Matthew were immediately attracted to each other.

How often did you re-write passages from or edit A Rip in the Veil? This question comes specifically from my second reading of the book when I saw a lot of techniques that created links I’m not sure I caught onto the first time.

(Laughs out loud) I have 78 drafts of A Rip in the Veil –

(gasps)

—and I am very flattered to hear that you noticed the effort I’ve put into linking between times and characters. With the exception of two scenes – one at the end of chapter 11, the other at the end of chapter 25 – everything has been rewritten, multiple times. Quite often, it is just a couple of words that have been changed, but I tend to say that for every word that ends up in the final version, I’ve written five more.

Sooo…from a storyline perspective, does the final version resemble the first? Are they the same?

I think the Alex and Matthew relationship in the final version is very much in line with the first version. Intermediate events, however, differ, and I had to swap a couple of scenes around right at the end. Plus I deleted some of the more mushy parts and had the pleasure of allowing Hector Olivares to develop into quite the sinister character, however legitimate some of his anger may be.

Are certain types of scenes more difficult for you to write than others? Are you more challenged by dialogue or narration?

I don’t like writing scenes in which my characters go through pain – or loss. But these scenes are often fundamental to a book, so as a writer, there is no way around it. When writing Alex’s and Matthew’s story, for example, I couldn’t shy away from the fact that most parents in the 17^th century experienced losing a child. I definitely didn’t enjoy having to draw that insight to its conclusion, but there was no choice, not really.

As to dialogue contra narrative, I believe dialogue is more difficult to get right – pitch is important.

As book one in the series, was A Rip in the Veil more difficult to write than the others? Did you worry more, or less, about your characters—for example, their well-being, how you responded to them, how readers might perceive them?

I was terrified when I published it – but that was more from my perspective than my characters’ perspective. There’s a famous Swedish author who once wrote a poem along the lines that seeing your book displayed in a bookshop was the equivalent of seeing your heart dangling on a meat-hook.

Oh my gosh, yes.

He definitely had a point…

And yes, of course I worried about my characters, which is why I went on to write a further seven books about them!

What is one of your favorite scenes in A Rip in the Veil?

There are so many, but a particular favourite is that scene in chapter 25 that has remained unchanged since I first wrote it.

A weak December sun filtered through the bare branches of the rowan, long extended fingers of shadow thrown across the faded grass. Their breath came in soft puffs, and Matthew slid to sit closer, pressing his thigh against hers. He could feel her relax, a slow softening of muscles that for weeks had been rigid with fear and grief. He didn’t push, he just sat beside her, every now and then sweeping his thumb in a caressing movement over the back of her hand.

“I can’t stand it,” he finally said in view of her continued silence. “I can’t … I see these pictures in my head of you with him, and I can’t wipe them away, and I want to ... Alex, I’m so sorry!”

“Of me with him?” Her confusion was apparent, and he turned to look at her. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God; you think he raped me?”

“Didn’t he?”

Alex made a slow negating movement with her head, and Matthew’s shoulders dropped several inches.

“He... well, he just lost it, you know? He punched me and hit me, he swore at me, hit me some more, and I begged for him to stop, but he just went on and on about you and Margaret, and how would you like it now, when he did to your wife what you’d done to her, and —” She threw him a look and came to an abrupt stop. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Aye it is, I should have been there to protect you.”

“Well, he made sure you weren’t, didn’t he? And had you come back, what could you have done alone against six men?” She shivered when the sun disappeared behind fast moving clouds. “I don’t think he was fully aware of what he was doing – besides, he was drunk.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No; it definitely isn’t.” Her hand drifted down to knead at her abdomen. “Our baby.”

Matthew took both her hands in his and knelt before her. “We’ll have other babies, lass.”

“But not like this one,” she replied, tears hanging off her eyelashes.

“No, not like this one.”

“He would have had your eyes,” she breathed.

“She would have had your mouth,” he whispered.

Slowly she toppled towards him, and he released her hands to wrap his arms round her, hold her safe against him, while a flurry of wet snow danced around them.

Oh yes, that passage is so very poignant—and a pivotal moment in their relationship. Alex’s clear communication—though delivered in anger—right before this scene leads to Matthew seeking her out, and them opening up a wound together in order to heal it occurs. In the end there is no easy comfort, and the damage is done to more than their physical selves, but it has made them stronger. Contrasted against that strength is the snow, not just snowflakes but wet snow, which to me speaks also of the fragility of the moment, and in turn the dual nature of life and relationships.

What is your favourite scene, Lisl?

Well, the way the opening was set up absolutely fascinated me, and I’ve read the first few chapters repeatedly, scouring for answers I might have missed—answers to all those But how? questions. I especially appreciated the phone situation; it really brings home a better understanding of the insane speed with which a person, or object in this case, would have to proceed through space in order to reach a different time, and for the changes to occur to it as we see in that segment. I also loved the scene when Alex “chats” with another character who reveals a greater understanding of Alex’s situation than Alex realizes she has.

But I also marvel at certain techniques and their results, and one in particular laid out in this scene absolutely gripped me:

“Yes. The British have a thing about their kings; you’re stuck with them.” She spread the djeens to dry, and wound her shawl round her bare legs before coming over to join him by the fire. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

Now this passage, while not told precisely from Alex’s point of view, nevertheless focuses on her actions, her being, what she is doing. Within all that, however, is this metacognitive reference to an assumption held by Matthew, whose mind has absorbed the label of jeans as djeens, which wouldn’t necessarily be readily apparent to Alex, as he has only verbalised this understanding by repeating the word he thought he heard—which sounds almost identical to what Alex actually said. It is through her we observe Matthew and are drawn closer not only his perceptions of the world, but also how he receives them, his thought processes and how these are informed by his culture and how language is used within it. Alex’s lack of response to his alternate understanding of what she said directly points to how the vehicle by which we receive information affects our understanding of it: she heard him say the word, we also “saw” what he said. How the brain operates fascinates me, and this passage was like a jaunt through some of its passages.

Hey, lady; that was deep stuff. :)  But the djeens was something I did on purpose, precisely to visualise their differences regarding vocabulary and concepts in general. Not so sure I actively was thinking about the metacognitive aspects, though…

Well… (laughs, coughs, licks fingers) If given the opportunity, would Matthew Graham be interested in visiting Alex’s era of origin? Would he enjoy or at least appreciate some of the methods of navigating the world (washing machines, cars, telephones, etc.)? If any other character could be trusted with Alex’s secret, would they be interested in a visit?

Matthew is skeptical to the idea of time travel. Very skeptical, as he considers it borderline black magic. Besides, he’s not sure he’d feel comfortable living in a time as secular as ours – for a man as devout as he is, it is difficult to imagine a day and age where people don’t care about God, don’t even talk about God. But he’d do great driving an Aston Martin – and he’d love it.

What would Alex or Matthew say to us if we met? What would either or both of them want us to know? What would they want to know from or about us?

Mainly, I think they’d be very surprised. Well, not at meeting me, obviously, as we hobnob on a daily basis. There’s very little about me those two don’t know – and vice-versa. But should they meet you, I think Matthew would be intrigued by the concept of a woman who’d been in the military, and his immediate questions would be why would a woman want to be a soldier, and why didn’t someone stop you, seeing as he is of the firm opinion women should be shielded from the horrors of war. So, what would you reply, to explain this to my 17^th century male hunk?

Oh wow. Honestly speaking, I’m not sure I could explain it to Matthew, partly because I can understand some of his objections —some. Perhaps a core motivation for serving really isn’t so different for women as for men: love of country, a free people ruling themselves, as his sister Joan mentions, and the ability to pass on what we’ve worked for (and been given)—all ideals Matthew and I share.

Although smaller in numbers than today, women have throughout history been exposed to the horrors of war, as combatants and not. Yes, as soldiers they face some challenges different to those men face, but this in itself does not mean they cannot contribute to our fighting forces. Some, like a woman who served in a frighteningly perilous position as one of six spies engaged by General Washington, were instrumental in the positive outcome of their countries’ war experiences. Not all women are capable of this or other sorts of military tasks, but this is true of men as well.

I suspect what makes Matthew most squeamish isn’t just being witness to the horrors of the battlefield, for even many men are haunted by what they saw there; Matthew himself was terribly affected. He might think of the one consequence only women can face when abused as POWs, and I admit, there is no easy answer. 

I guess I’ll have to set up a meeting between you and Matthew to further discuss, but from the way he is nodding, he seems to agree with what you’re saying, somewhat ruefully admitting that you’re right, the horrors of war mark a man too – for life.

What was the most difficult part of researching A Rip in the Veil? What was the most rewarding? What did you learn in the course of researching and writing the book?

The religious background fascinated me – not only for 17^th century Scotland, but also for 15^th century Spain. Thing is, I get derailed, so I ended up knowing much more than I needed to know about the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, and let’s not get me started on the political complexities of the Thirty Years’ War, what with Catholic France bankrolling Protestant Sweden when it went after the (also Catholic) Hapsburg Empire.

Can you share a story about people you met while researching?

I met some very interesting people in Cumnock, who were more amused than awed by the fact that anyone would set a book in their nondescript corner of the world. But the scones were fantastic, and they did point me in the right direction when it came to researching Sandy Peden, a prominent character in the third book of The Graham Saga.

What else would you like to investigate through writing? What is something you could or would never write about? Is there a central message in the book you’d like readers to know about? What cultural values do you think readers could take away from the book—from either time period?

Wow, that was a bombardment of questions! 

Things I would never write about – I can’t answer that, as it depends on what the story requires me to write. Having said that, I’d prefer not to write about gruesome dismemberments and stuff like that, but it is my firm belief that a writer must confront human life in all its glory and sordidness. 

I believe the central message is one of love – and of the importance to adapt to your surroundings rather than yearn for what you can’t have. 

I can’t answer for my readers, but for me personally, writing the books about Alex and Matthew has forced me to confront and explore the very personal issues of faith. After all, Alex is jettisoned into an environment where God is a fact, an undeniable truth, and I think if you live surrounded by people who believe, it rubs off on you – to some extent. Does this qualify as a cultural value, do you think?

Entirely! Your covers are absolutely gorgeous—the font as well as the images completely invite exploration. I remember thinking how appropriate it is that on the cover for A Rip in the Veil Alex has her back to and is walking away from us—for a couple of reasons. Did you have any hand in the cover’s design, either in the actual drawing or conception?

Thank you! I’ve designed all the covers conceptually, that is to say I’ve told marvelous Olly Bennett at MoreVisual what I want, and he has created it for me. I suspect he’s chuckled at some of my sketches, but in general he gets what I want just from my verbal description (phew!). Of course Alex is walking away from us – she is entering a new and unfamiliar world.

Do you believe covers affect the buying process? Do you think that even covers that visualize messages or symbolism within the books can still speak to potential readers given that they haven’t yet experienced those techniques?

Thank you, Lisl! And yes, I believe covers are important. I think they need to be aesthetically pleasing and not be too cluttered. As to symbolism, I fear what is apparent to the writer is not necessarily apparent to the reader – at least not prior to reading the book.

What are your thoughts on the current trend towards selling books wrapped in brown paper bags?—the titles and authors are written on the front, but that’s all anyone sees until they tear the paper off.

Silly. What, some sort of attempt at having people buy a pig in the poke? I buy books, I want to see them, read the blurb, feel the texture and – at times – read the end. (I know, I’m awful like that.)

I want to see them for all the same reasons plus one: to smell them.

Smell them? Is it the type ink that gets to you, or the scent of paper?

(Laughs) Good question—I’m guessing the paper? The scents often remind me of the excitement of receiving our book orders in school, or receiving books as gifts. Believe it or not, one publisher in particular retains that distinct smell I remember from school. Other books just smell like…promise.

(Pats Lisl’s arm) I love that! “Smell like promise.” 

What do you make of the ideal that no literary work is ever completely taken in?—that subsequent to the initial read, cultural and other experiences (including even current events) bringing new understanding or awareness, results in the re-reading of what is actually a completely different book?

I’d say this is a truism. Every reader brings his/her experiences and values to bear when they read a book. A great example is Fifty Shades of Grey, where the literary establishment has scoffed and laughed at this “badly written book” that promotes unhealthy dependency between a young woman and her dominant lover. Except, of course, that they’ve only read the book expecting to be irritated, assuming their preconceived notions will be verified. The over 100 million buyers who’ve devoured the books probably don’t agree – to them, the story of Ana and Christian is one of love and redemption, and most of us are suckers for an HEA (Happily Ever After) story. This doesn’t mean those readers can’t see that the literary quality at times is deficient (it is). It’s just that they don’t care…

Do you get fan mail? What kinds of things do people say or ask?

Presently, the recurring message is “please, please don’t stop writing about Alex and Matthew.” Very flattering – but also a tad stressful. One of the more interesting mails I got was from a woman who was SO mad at Matthew (due to events in later books involving a red bodice) and she just couldn’t understand how Alex could forgive him. “Because she loves him,” I replied, “and because she knows he adores her.” The reader was very satisfied with this reply.

Do you ever highlight in books you read, or make notes in the margins? If you object to the practice, why?

In novels, no. In non-fiction, always. Actually, if I’m reading a novel in let’s say French, I will underline words I need to look up, a habit I’ve picked up from my linguist of a mother, who is as voracious a word collector as I am.

When you attended school, was time travel a popular or at least well-known genre? Did you write stories at that age? Did others see you as a future author?

Did I write stories at that age…Yes, of course I did! Some are very strange, some are very inspired by Lord of the Rings, some are quite good – and none of them will ever escape from the box where I keep them.

Time travel has always been popular, don’t you think? At least conceptually, and I recall enjoying a book called Stig in the Dump about a modern child meeting this person from an ancient, primitive world.

As to me as a future author, I always knew that at some point I would write and publish.

What do you see as the difference(s) between time travel and time slip? Is there really a distinction or do you see the newer term more an evolutionary change, sort of adapting the newer or further developed perceptions and understandings?

Time travel is a conscious act, time slip simply happens to the unfortunate person who gets sucked into the past (or the future). Dr Who, therefore, time travels in his Tardis, while Alex slips into the past.

Ah, of course!

Do you enjoy poetry? If so, who/what are some of your favorite poets/poems?

I am a major fan of poetry, having grown up with a mother who would read out loud to us – in Spanish, Swedish and English. My absolute favourite is actually from a play by Calderón de la Barca – La Vida es Sueño:

¿Qué es la vida? Un frenesí.

¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión,
una sombra, una ficción,
y el mayor bien es pequeño;
que toda la vida es sueño,

y los sueños, sueños son.

Runner up is that delightful little poem “Glory be to God for dappled things,” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

It’s interesting: I write prose almost exclusively in English, but my poetry is either in Spanish or Swedish.

What question do you wish someone would ask about your book but hasn’t yet?

Well, sweet pea, after this extensive battery of questions, I can’t come up with a one ;)

(chuckles) I was going to playfully title this “Twenty Questions” but there actually came out to be more!

Thank you so much for joining me here and allowing me to probe into your world! I enjoyed A Rip in the Veil so much and I really appreciate the opportunity for all of us to see into it a little bit more. (reaches for more pie)

Dip your fingers into that!

You can have your cake (or pie) and eat it, too! We've got TWO FREE COPIES of A Rip in the Veil to gift to two lucky winners of our upcoming draw. To enter, simply comment at the novel's review located here or at our dedicated Facebook thread right here!

Lisl Announces: The Review's March 2015 Book of the Month Award

Lisl is so very proud to 

announce the winner for 

The Review's March 2015 

Book of the Month Award:  

A Rip in the Veil 

by Anna Belfrage

Recipient of the B.R.A.G. Medallion

See below to learn how you could win one of TWO FREE COPIES we are gifting!

Previously having read and enjoyed The Prodigal Son, third in The Graham Saga series, I approached this first book with assurance and excitement. It is, after all, where the adventures begin, where the rip in the veil dividing time(s) occurs, at least in the case of Alex Lind. From my reading of that third in the series I knew she’d gone tail spinning through time back to the 17^th century following a freak thunderstorm, though further details, of course, remained unknown to me. Reading the opening sentences of the first in the series, I was very aware of my transition into the beginning, and that enticingly soon these details would be revealed. I am quite sure anyone who has ever read Belfrage’s Saga out of order—which can be done—will understand.

Having read A Rip in the Veil for a second time it should be noted I didn’t like the book as I did before. I have grown since that reading, come to new awareness and made changes in my own life. I am different to that person who read the book last time. Through all that, I came out at the end of my second go-round with this result: I love it at least ten times more. Some of this could be attributed to a greater understanding I have towards the foreshadowing I hadn’t noticed the first time around. It could also be said that having gone on to read—since The Prodigal Son—the rest of the series save its final installation, my affection for the characters has grown. All this would be accurate and surely contributes to my ongoing admiration for Anna Belfrage’s first in her timeslip series. 

However, her strength as a novelist carries through more than in the ability to create strong characters with enduring appeal—an accomplishment in of itself not to be to sniffed at. Her words flow off the pages with the sort of enchantment that allows readers to recognize their beauty and rhythm, but also veils the utilitarian duties they pull on the side. 

Further, true to the nature of a splendidly written book, one finds something else to adore they might not have taken in at first. In this instance one example would be phrases that capture our attention from where we stand now, not unlike the sun hitting stained glass at just the right angle or time of day. “The bright turmoil of oils,” for example, engages the imagination as it interweaves contemplation of an artist and her emotions; they unify in the moment and stir the sensations. There also is the author’s subtle sense of invitation into the story. We may share an understanding with a select character, or the author might slightly pierce the boundary between events as they occur and the observer holding the book, by acknowledging the observation. 

“Jeans; everyone wears them where I come from.”

“Djeens,” he repeated, “well, you must be from very far away.”

“You could say that again," she mumbled, hunching together.

and

[F]or an instant Alex thought she could see shame in his eyes. For an instant, mind you, and then his face hardened.

As Belfrage gets her tale going, readers also recognize what Alex herself does not, and her responses artfully contribute to the flow and continuity of the story as the author inserts detail clues for readers’ benefit; we learn ancillary information without being instructed, and the technique is used throughout the book, sparingly and subtly, also economically lending insight into players’ personalities.

The most apparent location these hints appear would be in dialogue, which also informs readers of how much each character knows about various events. In this way and others, Belfrage weaves a complex story, pleasurable and fascinating to follow—and I do mean fascinating: there were a number of occasions that gave me pause as I stopped to consider implications, how something could work, what might it mean in reality, and so on. The author’s prose lends credence to such a possibility, too: described with verbiage so on target and believable, responses and consequences so plausible, not an extra or out-of-place word, it becomes real as readers as well are drawn into the vortex with Alex, mysteriously and frighteningly into another time and, really, another place.

“Are you alright?” Matthew asked Alex.

“Yes,” she said shakily.

“Do you know him?” He cocked his head at the groaning shape.

“No.”

“Yes you do!” Two penetrating eyes fixed on her.

Alex shook her head, taking in a battered face, a dirty flannel shirt and jeans that seemed to have burnt off at calf length. He looked awful. The skin on what she could see of his legs was blistered and raw, made even worse by a large flesh wound. But he was here, an undoubtedly modern man. . . One person dropping through a time hole she could, with a gigantic stretch of mind, contemplate. Two doing it at the same time was so improbable as to be risable[. . . .]

[The man’s] eyes stuck on Matthew. . . . His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, he cleared his throat and gawked some more, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork.

“Where the hell am I?” he said. “Where have I ended up?”

Indeed, sense of place is a strong element in Alex’s story and we see some overlap in time, eliciting more questions that contribute to an urgent sense of need-to-know. I also longed to learn how those Alex leaves behind react; here, Belfrage does not disappoint. Initially alternating with some frequency between her new/old world and the time she has left behind, gradually the narrative settles into Alex’s story within her current surroundings, only periodically bringing readers back to those seeking answers as to her whereabouts. This reflects Alex’s perspective of the experience, as she begins to make a life, her life, in this strange place she has landed. Like Alex, we acclimate to life without frequent news and knowing of her family. 

Perhaps the most significant element Belfrage employs throughout the book, this literary reflection of a character’s reality does extra duty as it is simultaneously employed with temporal distortion—texting her father from 1658, muttered comments Alex has to explain away—and a spot of pastiche, whereby her 21^st century words, ways, songs, clothing names (e.g. djeens) are imported backwards in time. Alex herself often brings this distortion to readers’ attention with her questioning of her new world (which is actually old) and how she could be there, given that at this time, she has not yet been born. Nor have any of her family, so how could they be searching for her? What may be the most satisfying yet, and perhaps a little surprising, is Belfrage’s manner of writing about timeslip—writing mostly in the destination era being the largest contributor to the sense of surprise—utilizing postmodern technique to do it. Moreover, her interweaving of the various strategies is absolutely seamless.

Through the book, we get hints of Alex’s history awareness as she periodically betrays, to readers only, her knowledge of what is to come in this historical era. The temptation for an author to lean on this type of understanding must be great; fortunately for readers and characters alike, Belfrage does not rely on it. In fact, she shies away from it in most instances, as Alex determinedly seeks to make her way in this era with more natural supports—and, of course, to avoid accusations of witchcraft. When readers may expect some historical event to be referenced, Alex moves on; she has learned quickly.

As Alex learns what she needs to in order to survive—including about Matthew’s vengeful younger brother Luke, and the wife once paired with Matthew himself—she also begins to see much in Matthew, joining forces with him to live a life of integrity in the face of religious persecution and inconceivable human cruelty. Alex sees this very quickly after they meet each other, during their journey back to his home, and through their time living there. She also captures the attention of someone who believes there is more to her than she tells, bonding with her and others as she makes her way through newcomer status and the daunting awareness of not knowing what she is doing, including in the presence of those who wish her ill.

Matthew has an ally in Simon, his brother-in-law and attorney, who protects his interests and indeed, his life, counseling the newlyweds in ways small and large. In a sense, as Matthew and Alex get to know each other, their story is timeless—two people with a bond who must learn to integrate their beings into a cohesive and workable whole. On top of their own challenges, ordinary and unique, the pair must also deal with the threats that remain, for despite Matthew having made it home, Luke’s anger has not subsided, and it menaces Matthew and those he loves at every turn. The Grahams do not claim victory over every challenge, and sometimes must learn to compensate, including with each other.

“I didn’t like the ‘obey’ part,” Alex grumbled as they walked back to Simon’s office [following their wedding]. “I mean the love and to hold and all that, fine. But to obey? It makes me feel like a dog. . . . Why should I obey you?”

“Because I’m your husband,” Matthew explained with exaggerated patience. “And you’re but a mindless wife.”

Will they always be so lucky? How do they keep Luke’s hatred at bay and can they continue? What of Alex’s strange circumstances? She was brought here against her will; what if the forces that carried her here reverse themselves? Can she ever go back? How can she stay under the conditions she will be required to live? These are just a few of the top questions that will arise from readers, who certainly will reach eagerly for the next book for answers as well as more of the Grahams, for while the book’s technical brilliance impresses the intellect, its soul captures the heart and imagination.

It is understood that certain factors affect any given reading, including order of books read. Did my awareness of Alex’s future, so to speak, with Matthew affect my perspective of the first in the series? Undoubtedly. Would I have enjoyed it as much had I not read the third book first? The only truthful answer I can give is that I do not know, though I am certain I still would be clamoring for the rest, as I had been. It has not escaped me, however, that like Alex, I myself have done a bit of time travelling by learning of a future portion of her life in the 17^th century before being brought to the first part of her time there. While many of my questions arising from the third are answered in the first, the readings of both remain magnificent. When first I published this review in its original form, I had added, “and I will not be satisfied until I have read them all—and even then I may still want more.”

I assure you, even after having now read them all (except the most recent), I very much still want more. I will be reading this book again and again with the knowledge that Belfrage has created the Grahams and a tale vigorous enough to journey with us through time and all of our own changes.

Anna Belfrage is so graciously offering TWO FREE COPIES of A Rip in the Veil for two lucky winners. To get your name in the draw, simply comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread located here.  

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Anna Belfrage can be found on Amazon, Twitter, Facebook, on her website and at her fantabulous blog, where you can learn much more about the author, her projects, the Grahams and her own world.

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Note: This entry has been updated to fix the link to the review for The Prodigal Son.