The Cruelest Month

sunny, warm, perfect spring day temps plus 8

Snowed to white-out at times yesterday. Doug arrived about 10pm. We sat by the fire and talked almost to midnight. Snow still falling outside. I took the photo yesterday at about five thirty. You can just see two geese in the foreground. More snow hit a few minutes later.

Doug - from Toronto - was shocked. Though, as we've already established, this is April, and April is The Cruelest Month. (Do you hear the organ music?) I think our lives should have soundtracks, so that instead of living in near perpetual anticipation of something bad happening, we'd be warned. By the organ music.

But this does bring me to the next bit of fun news. St. Martin's Press has decided to re-issue all the books, with snazzy new covers. I reeeeeally love the new design. In many ways more in keeping with the actual tone of the books, which are comforting and comfortable on one level, but something not so comforting is happening beneath. They're about duality. Appearances versus reality.

And that's why the new cover for The Cruelest Month - set at an Easter celebration in Three Pines - is perfect. As you can see above (I grabbed the image off Amazon.com) it show cheery painted eggs, and the very subtle crack in one...to reveal something rotten. How perfect. In one picture it has summed up the themes of the series. That beauty and joy exist, but so does cruelty. As in the cover, joy outnumbers the rancid elements. But the rotten is still there. And often hidden. Indeed, in my books, and my experience, always hidden. Behind a cheerful and benign exterior.

And - the exterior is also real. We really are cheerful. The killer is genuinely good. And genuinely rotten.

The book with the new cover just went on sale - and I wanted you to see it. My wonderful editor in New York, Hope Dellon, posted it on my facebook page yesterday.

Happy Easter. Happy Passover. Or simply, happy Friday. By noon here the snow had disappeared and the geese had left, but we had two ducks on the pond.

ahhhh

partly cloudy, mild, temps 16

Well, I'm sitting in the Hotel le Crystal in Montreal! What bliss.

Michael and two of his sons are in New York City, having a fun "boys" week. Staying close to Times Square. Just got an email from Michael to say they'd arrived, sorted out a problem with their hotel, headed to Rockefeller Square and been up to Top of the Rock...for a fabulous view of New York. And are now sitting down below, having a very late lunch and watching the skaters.

The forecast for NYC this week is sunny with temps ranging from 70 to 79!!!

Michael's son's arrived Saturday and we had such fun celebrating Easter. Our friend Wilder dropped by for a steak dinner. Pat, God bless her, made scalloped potatoes and a wonderful apple and pear crisp.

Then up at 6am for the 2 hour drive to Burlington Vt airport. Such a civilized airport to fly out of.

When this trip was coming up I wondered what to do with myself. I could, of course, go with them to NYC and stay in a different hotel - let them have their fun and I could see loads of people I adore in NYC. But the priority is to write. So I thought about it...and decided I could have the best of both worlds. Stay in a fabulous hotel, and write. And the way to do it was to go to a hotel in Montreal.

Yes, I know, we have an apartment here. But I just love hotels...such a treat. I remember when I was 8 my mother took me for our only mother-daughter expedition...and it was a doozie. We were living in Toronto, and Mom took me to the best hotel in the city at the time. The Royal York. Just for one night...but now, almost half a century later, I still remember it. The awe of walking through the grand lobby. The huge bed and soft sheets. Room service! Wow.

I've loved hotels ever since. As you might realize from reading this blog, I don't really visit cities, I visit hotels. In Scottsdale, Arizona I visit the Valley Ho (I know...quite a name - but fab hotel), in NYC I visit the W Union Square. In Toronto I visit the Soho Met. I honestly am not all that interested in what is happening outside the walls. This is not totally true. But a great hotel in a mediocre city is a wonderful experience for me. A bad hotel in a great city is a bad experience for me.

Michael, though, doesn't much care. A cardboard box is fine.

I sometimes wonder if he knew what hit him when we fell in love and married. That God for Love...it forgives so much.

So here I am, trying out this new hotel. Brand now...opened a few months. I've never stayed here before, but the rooms looked huge, and not terribly expensive. And right downtown, on de la Montagne.

The arrival at the hotel was a bit disappointing. Nothing huge. I just think when your car rolls up you shouldn't have to wait for a doorman or bellhop. I had to wait...though I could see him through the glass doors, chatting. I got out, popped the trunk, waited...wondered if maybe I need to take out my own luggage - which I'm capable of doing since I got it in. It was just sort of baffling and disconcerting. but the man finally arrived. And then into the room. Very nice. some small, odd, oversights...but I think as I settle in things will feel better. it is certainly a wonderful hotel in a fabulous location.

And - did I mention - it has a spa!! Guess what I'm doing tomorrow.

As soon as I arrived and unpacked I hooked up the computer and spent the next 5 hours writing. Editing a bit to get back into the swing. I'm finding this situation - being quietly at this very nice hotel - wonderful for writing. Relaxing. I also had the benefit of the 2 hours drive from the Burlington airport, with music, to think about the book. hear some of the conversations.

Am now writing quite a difficult series of scenes. Pivotal. Lots needs to happen, without appearing to. Such bliss to be here until Thursday.

Speak to you tomorrow.

Easter

overcast, mild, temps 16

It actually feels cold compared to yesterday...it reached 30 degrees in the shade. Amazing! Almost too hot. Spring flowers blooming all over the place. Very unusual, and unexpected at Easter.

Two geese on the pond. Nature going wild.

Went riding on Markus yesterday. Well...first Jana and I groomed him, then saddled. Then we took him to the upper pasture and she did the lunge line. Which means, for those of you like me who don't know much about horses, that Markus was on a long rope with Jana in the middle and he walked, trotted and cantered around her.

He's gorgeous! Very athletic. And, honestly? Way too much horse for me.

Jana got up on him and walked and trotted. Said he had a beautiful gait. But also powerful. Then I got onto him but was too much of a chicken to do anything other than walk. But it was exciting. Then we bathed him.

As I walked over I realized how difficult it is to write a book and have distractions - even something as apparently benign as dinner parties or lunches with friends. Each is not a tast or chore, none lasts long...but at least half the world of writing a novel comes in the quiet times...those hours when I'm not writing, but am thinking. That;s how problems are flagged, problems are solved. Scenes are sharped. Ideas come.

Though, michael and I were at a gathering last night and I'd been having difficulty with an ongoing thread and how to resolve it...and someone said something - just a line - at the meeting last night - and I realized that was it. As we were all leaving I told him what a very great gift he'd given me. He laughed...but I went back to it because I wanted him to know this wasn't trivial for me and I was sincere in my thanks...and that he'd greatly relieved my mind.

So - inspiration comes from all sorts of sources...but for me I just really need quiet. To write - but equally to contemplate.

How lovely to get it too, walking over to see Markus. Another way he's saving me.

Happy Easter.

Phew...and Happy Easter

cloudy, cool, scattered flurries

A cool, damp day, but the sun pops out every now and then. Perfect day to curl up by the fire, read, have a bath and watch the Masters on TV.

Happy Easter.

Feels a bit like a resurrection here... our life is back! But what a blast we had. Loads of fun with the family. And a wonderful birthday party for Michael. It was especially moving when the cake came out and everyone stood and clapped and sang. And belautiful, robust, heartfelt voices. It just felt like something special was in the room with us. Affection, belonging, even love.

The funniest moment was shortly after Doug, Mary and their kids arrived. with Buttercup. It's always wise to check out BC dropping because you never know what you might find. That missing sock. A glove. The dishwasher. The dog is prodigious. But this time the hilarily wasn't centred on Buttercup, but on Brian. As we walked the dogs around the pond, and I was describing the ice going out of the pond a few days earlier, Brian, who is 13 and thinks with the brain of a 13 year old, which is about on par with Buttercup...well Brian asked if he could go swimming. We, of course, said, fine. Then I said I'd give him 5 dollars to jump into the pond. Well, he stripped down to his boxers (it's practically snowing out) hemmed and hawed for 30 seconds, then ran and dove in.

And came up shrieking.

doug, his father, took the dog's chuck-it (a bit like a rod) and leaned into the pond trying to get him to take it. Between shrieks and swimming for shore Brian yelled that his underwear had come off. So I turned around, knowing he (with his 13 year old brain) was trying to decide what was worse...his aunt seeing him naked, or freezing to death. Happily his underwear was found around his ankles, he got out of the pond and ran all the way home, screaming.

Charlie, a very sanguine younger brother, watched this and commented: I've never seen Brian run so fast.

I went home, put him in the big tub in our bathroom in a hot bath and put an action flick on the TV. And gave him 10 dollars for the swim, and the entertainment. We didn't see him again for an hour and half but all agreed it was worth the money.

Dinner that night was sublime, with our good friend Nancy having made a DVD of Michael's life, from photos I supplied her. Happily Michael can be oblivious to his surroundings and didn't seem to notice pictures coming off the walls, the bookcases, the piano. The place was stripped.

And all appeared on this amazing video...from birth, to nutty 60's hair, to his kids, to our wedding, to our life together. about 15 minutes, and three songs he loves... Josh Groban's When You Say You Love Me, KD Lang singing Cohen's Hallelujah, and Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers 'Islands in the Stream'. It was gorgeous. And very moving.

The food was fab. Only two children cried. Michael cried. I cried. I suspect others cried. There was only a little blood. (I'm not kidding - one of the children fell and scraped her knee quite badly - there were two doctors and two emergency technicians there...and all it took was a mother's kiss.)

Mary and the kids left yesterday morning - but neighbors and friends came by for Easter dinner last night of wood smoked ham (called a Mechoui in Quebec), eggplant parmessan, salads, baguette and chocolate mousse. It was very relaxed. And fun.

But wow, were we tired last night. Today we feel we're creeping back to normal. Making calls, writing letters. Doug and I will drive in to Montreal early tomorrow morning so he can pick up a truck and take some of our furniture back to Toronto with him.

Snowing again here. I wonder if this is how people who've run marathons feel? Exhausted, but very good.

Happy Easter...happy holidays. Happy Michael. Happy me.

Passover

overcast, mild, temps plus 5

All the snow, or at least most of it, has melted. And the bluebells survived! Extremely hectic days...preparing for guests to arrive, trying to figure out meals and menus and sleeping arrangements. You know the drill.

And trying to remember they're all family and good friends and no one really cares if they get peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast. And lunch. And BBQed peanut butter for dinner. I'll tell you, if anyone in the family ever developed a peanut allergy we'd be in trouble.

Michael's birthday is tomorrow - 75. And then Easter after that. We have loads of kids coming so needed to remember easter chocolates too! I used to love Easter chocolates as a kid. Still do, actually.

Michael sent me a stunning bouquet this morning, to say Thank You for all the work. This was, thankfully, before the peanut butter fiasco.

Have been asked to write a novella for literacy - a very short mystery for adults, but who read at about a grade 5 level...starting to think about that. It will, apparently, be available in bookstores too with all proceeds going to Adult Literacy services.

Must head...I have loads of things left to screw up. I'll try to write tomorrow with an update. Why, oh, why didn't he want to go on a nice cruise for his 75th????

Next time.

Be well. And happy Passover!

eternal spring

snow, windy, cold, temps minus 2

Not actually that cold, but below seasonable and, as you can see, cold enough to snow. Blech. It's that wet, heavy stuff - covering everything. If we can wait long enough it will melt - and fortunately we don't need to leave the house for a day or so.

This always happens, and will again I'm sure before the end of April. In THE CRUELEST MONTH I describe how unpredictable Easter is...not only is it the moveable feast, but you never know if we'll get daffodils in bloom or a snowstorm.

Yesterday all the ice left the pond, the frogs were calling, the ducks had returned. Pussy-willows were blooming, and by the birdfeeder, in the white garden, there were bluebells. The first flowers of spring.

Now under a couple of inches of snow.

But I'm amazed that, when the snow melts, they'll still be there, and still blooming.

What I don't learn from dogs I learn in my garden. The enternal spring.

Went to a wonderful party at Lise's home yesterday. it was a sort of tupperware thing, except for food. Perfect. there were about 15 of us and Lise had cooked up and storm and we sat, listened to the demonstration, then ate and chatted and ordered things. Such fun. And Lise is so wonderful...gracious, warm, nurturing, and smart.

Speak to you tomorrow...off for breakfast then writing.

A Deeply Cracked Easter

Sunny, cold, highs minus 9

Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything,
That’s how the light gets in.
Leonard Cohen

How can you not love a guy who wrote that? Actually I used that quote in A Fatal Grace – as part of Clara’s art.

Happy Easter.

I once said that on air at CBC radio and a listener called in to lambast me and point out that this is not a happy day. Christ was crucified on this day. I was about 21 years old and deeply sorry I’d offended someone. So I apologized on air. It was only decades later I realized I didn’t agree with that assessment. But I believe what makes this holiday so special isn’t that Christ was crucified, but that he rose.

This is a holiday of hope. And how can that not be happy?

Indeed, it’s such fun to be speaking to you on this day. This is exactly the time when my latest book, The Cruelest Month, is set. Over the Easter holiday. In my book it’s a very late Easter – being a movable feast I did my goddess thing and moved it to late April. So that the spring bulbs would just be poking out. A promise. But fragile, vulnerable. And in the book we find out what happens to anything that exposes itself too much and too soon.

In the words of Shakespeare’s Wolsley’s Farewell (a wonderful speech): A killing frost. It nips his bud. And then he falls, as I do.

In the book there’s a killing frost – both physically and psychologically. Aimed at a villager in Three Pines, but also at Chief Inspector Gamache.

Spring is an unsettling season – and Easter an unsettling time. As one of the characters says – not everything is meant to come back to life. Not everything that rises up is a miracle.

I hope you enjoy reading The Cruelest Month as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s about murder, of course, being a murder mystery. But at its heart it’s about second chances, and redemption.

Here’s to our cracks, and the hope and compassion that springs from them.