Monday, 13 May 2013

Lyon's Incredible Trompe L'Oeil Murals

Lyon is the cpital of Europe for trompe l'oeil murals. There are more than 65 in the town itself and about 150 in the whole 'lyonnaise' conurbation. Here are a few of them I was delighted to see again when I went home during the Easter holidays.
 
The 'Mur des Ecrivains' was  painted by 'Cité de la Création' artists on a building on the corner of rue de la Platière and quai de la Pêcherie. It features references to about 300 writers who were born in Lyon or worked there. It isn't easy but if you look carefull you can see references to Frédéric Dard (the prolific crime writer of the San Antonio series), poetess Louise Labé, Rabelais and Voltaire, and to Saint-Exupery - French aristocrat, writer, poet, and pioneering aviator and author of  'Le Petit Prince'.



On the ground floor you can see three book shops and a postman leaning against the wall.
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
I couldn't resist including this powerful and passionate poem by sixteenth-century poetess Louise Labé. 

Sonnet II -  Your Cold, Appraising Eyes

Your cold, appraising eyes entice me still
And cause a hundred thousand sighs.  Again,
And yet again, I wait and wait in vain.
The night is dark, the way is all uphill.

And when I dream about you, I am filled
With ceaseless turmoil and long-stifled pain.
Then, on a sudden, flashing through my brain,
I see my fate, and it’s a bitter pill.

Into the deep of night, I speak your name.
My hard-fought struggle with the gentle art
Of making verses cannot long subdue

All passion and desire.  A fit of flame
Flares up, ignites, and burns within my heart.
Would that one red-hot spark might fly on you!

 Another very famous mural is The 'Mur des Lyonnais', also painted by 'Cité de la Création. Located on the corner of 49 Quai Saint Vincent and 2 Rue de la Martinière, it features 30 famous people from Lyon on a surface of 800 m2.

 
You will find there Sainte Blandine, one of the first Christian martyrs of Lyon, restaurateur Paul Bocuse, the Lumière brothers (who played a crucial role in the development of photography and the cinema), 19th century physician Claude Bermand, Laurent Mourguet who created the famous Canut puppet Guignol and many others.



I will also mention Juliette Récamier who was born in 1777 in Lyon and held an illustrious 'salon' in Paris in the early 19th century, just because she gave her name to the secondary school I attended!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
The oldest, largest and most famous mural is the 'Mur des Canuts', located of course in the Croix-Rousse district of Lyon, where so many silk-workers lived and worked. It was the Cité de la Création's first mural and the one which made them famous all over the world.
 
Now, what is real and what is just a painting? I guess you'll have to go to Lyon to find out!
 
 
There are many more murals to discover in Lyon.
For more information, visit http://www.en.lyon-france.com/
 

 

 

Saturday, 27 April 2013

Pardon my French (Part II)!


Pardon my French (Part II)

 
As promised, more French tit-bits or French-related phrases, courtesy of the wonderful 6th edition of the Brewer's Dictionary of Phrases and Fables, first published in 1870.  

Today is G to Z

 
The Most Noble Order of the Garter, which is the highest order of knighthood in Great Britain and the world, instituted by King Edward III about 1348 (then reconstituted in 1805 and 1831) and which only admits royalty amongst its members. We all know that the motto of the order is 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' (shame to him who thinks evil of it), but where does it come from? Well,  according to popular legend, Joan, Countess of Salisbury, accidentally slipped her garter at a court ball. It was picked up by the king who gallantly diverted the attention of the guests from the countess by slipping it around his own knee and saying as he did so: 'Honi soit qui mal y pense.'

In France there are still wedding receptions where the poor bride has to stand on a table, lift the hem of her wedding dress and push her garter up from the ankle to the top of her thigh as guests put money into a pot or a hat and shout encouragements (or salacious comments). I remember a wedding where the bride was in tears as the groom urged her to keep going so that they would have more money! What a way to start married life... 

 
The Guillotine, named after its inventor Joseph Ignace Guillotin, a French physician. It was introduced it in April 1792 to avoid 'unnecessary suffering'.

 
The Immortals or 'Les Immortels' are the forty members of the French Academy whose job is to write the dictionary of the French language and allocate various literary prizes. The Academy was first introduced by the Cardinal Richelieu in 1635, then reintroduced in 1816. It is an honour to be voted into the 'Academie Française' and once you are in, you cannot be dismissed. The 'Academiciens' meet every Thursday afternoon behind closed doors and only have one public session a year, in December.
 
 
A Lamourette Kiss (isn't that a lovely word?) is used to denote an insincere reconciliation between two opponents. From the Abbé Lamourette who in July 1792 urged the different factions of the Legislative Assembly to lay aside their differences and give the kiss of peace. It didn't work for very long.

 
A la Lanterne! Or Hang him from the lamp-post! A cry and custom introduced in Paris during the French Revolution. Many of Paris' street lamps were hung from iron brackets very suitable for that sinister purpose.
 

L'Homme au Masque de Fer (The Man in the Iron Mask). I have always been fascinated by the story, the legend of the mysterious individual held for over forty years as a State prisoner by Louis XIV at Pignerol and other prisons, and who ultimately died at La Bastille on November 19th 1703, with his identity still undisclosed. His name was given as 'Marchiali' when he was buried. No one knows to this day who he was. Some suggested that he was the King's twin brother, or even an older brother fathered by the Cardinal Mazarin or the Duke of Buckingham. Others that he was the King's own natural son by Madame de La Valière. It is now considered probable that he was the Count Girolamo Mattioli, Minister to the Duke of Mantua, who acted treacherously towards King Louis XIV by refusing to honour a treaty.
 

La Bibliothèque Mazarine was the first public library in Paris, and was founded thanks to the 40,000 books the Cardinal gave the city on his death in 1661.


 
Montjoie Saint Denis was the war-cry of the French, and Montjoie was the battle cry of French heralds at tournaments and the title of the French king of arms.

 
Parole. A verbal promise given by a soldier that he will not abuse his leave of absence or by a prisoner of war that he will not attempt to escape. I only put this one into the post so that I could link to this absolutely great (and just a little cheesy) song 'Parole' sung in the seventies by Dalida and the impossibly handsome Alain Delon. Of course, in the song, 'Parole' only means 'words' or 'empty promises'.
 
Enjoy!!!
 

 

This is the Court of King Pétaud, where everyone is master! This French proverb means that there is no order or discipline. Le roi Pétaud was the title of the chief who was elected by the fraternity of the beggars in medieval France, and in whose court all were equal.
 

To do something with sang-froid is to remain cool and collected and how no sign of agitation or excitement.
 

Sans Culottes (without knee-breeches, therefore not from the upper classes or the aristocracy). This was the name given during the French Revolution to the extremists of the working classes. When the Revolutionary Calendar was created in 1792 (see my earlier post from July 2012), five days of holiday were added after the last month of the year, Fructidor (which would be in September), which were called the Sans Culottides .

 
Do you have any other French phrases or sayings? If you do, I would be delighted if you could leave a comment.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Pardon my French!

Here is a post for people who are fascinated by language and how it evolves, who wonder where these French words and phrases used in English come from, or for writers who need to put a bit of French into their story or dialogues for authenticity.

The following entries are courtesy of the wonderful 'Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable', 6th edition, published by William Clowes and Sons Ltd, London in 1962, which I recently came across in a sale of old library books, and which smells so musty I sneeze every time I open it!

Today, we are looking at A to F! All these phrases and words are absolutely not related but taken at random.

Ame damnée, a lost, cursed soul.

Amende honorable. An anglicised French phrase meaning a full and frank apology. In medieval France it was a degrading punishment inflicted on traitors, parricides and sacrilegious persons, who were forced to appear at court with a rope around their neck and stripped to their shirt, and made to beg the pardon of God, the King and the court.
 
 
Après moi le déluge. The thing to say when you don't care about what happens after your death. It is recorded that Madame de Pompadour (1721-64) who was King Louis XV's mistress, said 'Après nous le déluge' when remonstrated about the extravagance of the court's expenses.
 
 
Barbe Bleue (Bluebeard). Now who was he and why do every French children know and fear him, a little like the bogeyman? Giles de Retz, Marquis de Laval (no relation to me, fortunately!) is supposed to be the original Barbe Bleue. He lived at Machecoul in Brittany and was accused of murdering six of his seven wives. He was ultimately strangled and burned in 1440. Charles Perrault later wrote the tale of Bluebeard in his Comtes du Temps (1697).
 
 

Billet doux - a short letter, a message of love. Below is the painting 'Billet Doux' by Boucher 1754.
 

Bon mot - a clever, witty remark.

Bon Vivant. Someone who indulges in all good of the table. A stronger expression is Bon Viveur, which suggests the pursuit of other pleasures!

Brouhaha (I just love that word). A noisy or excited reaction or response. Late 19th century French word.
 
Lettres de Cachet (sealed letters). Under the old French regime, they were warrants sealed with the king's seal in which the name of the 'beneficiary' was often left blank. They were very often used to send political opponents to the Bastille or other prisons. They were finally abolished during the French revolution, in 1790.


Cheval de Bataille is someone's favourite subject.

Chevalier d'Industrie is someone who lives by his wits, a swindler, an adventurer. 
In his 1750   ' Letters to his Son, Chesterfield warned against them and urged 'Be cautiously upon your guard against the infinite number of fine-dressed and fine-spoken chevaliers d'industrie and aventuriers which swarm at Paris.' I didn't know that one.

Coup d'essai is a trial piece, a practice.
 
 
Coup de grâce is the finishing stroke, the stroke or mercy. When a criminal was tortured by the wheel or otherwise, the executioner gave him the 'coup de grâce' to put him out of his misery.

Coup de pied de l'âne. Literally, a kick from the ass's hoof, and figuratively a blow given to a vanquished or fallen man, a cowardly blow, or an insult given to someone who is in no position to retaliate. It is an allusion to 'The Sick Lion' Aesop, which goes like this:
 
 
A Lion had come to the end of his days and lay sick unto death at the mouth of his cave, gasping for breath. The animals, his subjects, came round him and drew nearer as he grew more and more helpless. When they saw him on the point of death they thought to themselves: “Now is the time to pay off old grudges.” So the Boar came up and drove at him with his tusks; then a Bull gored him with his horns; still the Lion lay helpless before them: so the Ass, feeling quite safe from danger, came up, and turning his tail to the Lion kicked up his heels into his face. “This is a double death,” growled the Lion.
Only cowards insult dying majesty.
 
 
Cri du coeur - a heartfelt plea.
 
 
Croquemitaine. A hobgoblin, an evil spirit or ugly monster used by adults to frighten children into good behaviour.  A French nursery rhyme went like this: 'Connaissez-vous Croquemitaine, Miton Miton Mitaine, il a deux yeux grands et perçants, une grosse bouche, de grande dents.'
 
 
En grande toilette, en grande tenue - dressed for a grand occasion.
En papillotes - in a state of undress, literally sill wearing curl-papers in your hair.
 
 
En passant - by the way
 
 
Faux-pas - a social blunder, causing embarrassment and loss of face.

And finally, these lovely 'French' phrases:
 
To take French leave. To leave without permission, without saying good bye to anyone, or to slip away unnoticed. In 18th century France it was a custom to leave an official event or a banquet without saying goodbye to the host. This phrase was first recorded after the Seven Years' War. There was a time when there was no love lost between France and England and this kind of backhanded compliment between the two countries were very common.
 
 
The French reverse the 'compliment' and say 'filer à l'anglaise' (to escape like an Englishman). And what about the 'French gout' (venereal disease), or a 'French letter' for a condom (we call it 'capote anglaise' which means 'English overcoat')?
 
I will be back soon with words and phrases from F to Z, but in the meantime if there are any expressions you particularly like and I have omitted here, please feel free to leave a comment.

Monday, 11 March 2013

Voices

Avec le temps...
Avec le temps, va, tout s´en va
On oublie les passions et l´on oublie les voix
Qui vous disaient tout bas les mots des pauvres gens
Ne rentre pas trop tard, surtout ne prends pas froid


 

This is an extract of the beautiful, poignant song by Léo Ferré 'Avec le temps', which I think is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. I don't however agree with him when he says that time erases everything, including the voices of the people we loved. There are voices I still hear to this day and I know I'll never forget. They ring so clear sometimes it's as if the people they belonged to are right next to me, and I am transported back to a certain place or moment in time. I can still hear my mother call in the stairs to say tea was ready, or tell my sisters and I we should smile more because 'you don't catch flies with vinegar' (the flies being husbands, of course!). I also hear her laugh, her wonderful, infectious laugh. 

No, I don't think voices die.

I had some very sad news tonight. A dear friend has gone, someone I did not see very often but I had known since childhood. I will hear his voice for a long, long time to come.

Here is 'Avec le temps' sung by Dalida


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaSS2fA4b68

Saturday, 16 February 2013

A tour of some locations in 'The Lion's Embrace'

Today I am posting a few photos of some of the locations in 'The Lion's Embrace'.

First Algiers, where the story starts, and more particularly the Kasbah, the old town.

Then the oasis of Bou Saada, 'The City of Happiness', which inspired so many nineteenth century artists, including Etienne Dinet who is buried there.



The painting above was not from Dinet, but this one is.
And lastly the beautiful and mysterious Hoggar mountains in the far South of Algeria. I never tire of looking at these photos and hope that one day, I will be able to go there myself.
I hope you enjoyed these pictures. I will post more soon!

'The Lion's Embrace' - Blurb:
Algiers, 1845. Arrogant, selfish and dangerous, Lucas Saintclair is everything Harriet Montague dislikes in a man. He is also the best guide in the whole of the Barbary States, the only man who can rescue her archaeologist father from the gang of Tuareg fighters that has kidnapped him. As Harriet embarks on a perilous journey across Algeria with Saintclair and Archibald Drake, her father’s most trusted friend, she discovers a bewitching but brutal land where nothing is what it seems. Who are these men intent on stealing her father’s ransom? What was her father hoping to find in Tuareg queen Tin Hinan’s tomb? Is Lucas Saintclair really as callous as he claims—or is he a man haunted by a past he cannot forgive? Dangerous passions engulf Harriet’s heart in the heat of the Sahara. Secrets of lost treasures, rebel fighters, and a sinister criminal brotherhood threaten her life and the life of the man she loves.

Does forever lie in the lion’s embrace?


The Lion's Embrace is available from
https://museituppublishing.com/
http://www.amazon.com/The-Lions-Embrace-ebook/dp/B00BACDSK6
and http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_15?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=marie+laval+the+lion%27s+embrace&sprefix=marie+laval+the%2Cdigital-text%2C240



Saturday, 2 February 2013

'The Lion's Embrace' published!

My second historical romance, 'The Lion's Embrace', was released yesterday and is now available from MuseitUp Publishing!

Blurb:
Arrogant, selfish and dangerous, Lucas Saintclair is everything Harriet Montague dislikes in a man. He is also the best guide in the whole of the Barbary States, the only man who can rescue her archaeologist father from the gang of Tuareg fighters that has kidnapped him. As Harriet embarks on a perilous journey across Algeria with Saintclair and Archibald Drake, her father’s most trusted friend, she discovers a bewitching but brutal land where nothing is what it seems. Who are these men intent on stealing her father’s ransom? What was her father hoping to find in Tuareg queen Tin Hinan’s tomb? Is Lucas Saintclair really as callous as he claims—or is he a man haunted by a past he cannot forgive? Dangerous passions engulf Harriet’s heart in the heat of the Sahara. Secrets of lost treasures, rebel fighters, and a sinister criminal brotherhood threaten her life and the life of the man she loves.

Does forever lie in the lion’s embrace?

And an excerpt too!
It was a narrow valley where the river curved into a bend, secluded by thick bushes and reeds. After a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, she stripped and walked naked into the water. It was so cold it took her breath away. She gritted her teeth, clutched her bar of soap, and walked into the river until the water reached her hips. Getting rid of the grime and sweat of the past few days was worth the torture…
Holding her breath, she dipped into the water before standing and lathering soap over her body and her hair.
The light was changing. A transparent gold dust touched the hillside, the top of the trees. The sunrise streaked the sky with red, orange, and pink hues, reflecting into the river. She was alone in the world, in a bubble hovering between sky and water.
It was then she heard the growling. Stones tumbled down the hillside seconds before a male lion jumped onto the river bank, sleek and agile. It approached the river and started drinking. It hadn’t seen her. Yet.
Her heart thumping with terror, she ducked under the water very slowly, careful not to make any ripples on the surface. How long would she have to hold her breath? How long did it take a lion to quench its thirst after a night spent hunting? What if it saw her and came after her? Did lions, like cats, hate water? Her lungs started to burn, she felt close to choking. When she couldn’t hold on any longer, she popped her head above the water and took a long, long breath.
The lion had gone.
“You are one lucky woman,” a voice called from the bank.
Still breathless, she spun round. Saintclair crouched near the water, a knife in one hand, a pistol in the other. 
“How l-long have you be-been here?” she stuttered, her teeth chattering from cold and shock.
“Long enough.”
Had he watched her undress and get into the water? Actually, she’d rather not know.
She moved her legs and arms, numb and stiff with cold.
“Is it safe? Has the lion gone?” She looked toward the hillside.
“You’re safe. From the lion, that is.” He narrowed his eyes. “I, on the other hand, might just want to throttle you for disregarding my orders. I knew taking you with us was a mistake. I knew you were stubborn. I didn’t realize just how reckless, how stupid you were. You could have been mauled to death just then.” 
“I handled the lion perfectly well on my own.” She tilted her chin. Her heart had almost stopped with fright, but there was no reason to tell him.
He stood up, put his pistol in the holster on his hip, slid the knife in his boot, and walked toward the edge of the water. His face was so tense, his eyes so steely, that she recoiled. He was going to walk into the river, pull her out and…
“Damn it, woman, you were told not to leave the camp alone. You were warned about lions roaming this area. There are all sorts of dangers here—wild animals, snakes, scorpions.” He looked up towards the hillside. “Raiders.”
She swallowed hard, followed his gaze toward the top of the hills.
He shook his head.
“If that lion hadn’t been so old and half-blind, you wouldn’t be talking to me now.”
“It seemed pretty sprightly to me,” she muttered.
He snorted.
“Get out. You’re freezing, and your lips are blue,” he said without a trace of sympathy in his voice.
She shivered, nodded. “Only if you turn round.”
“It’s a bit late to play the prude,” he muttered, but he obliged and faced the other way.
So he had seen her naked. Well, he wouldn’t see her now. She covered her chest with her arms and walked to the shore. She threw a nervous glance in his direction before stepping out of the water, but he remained immobile, his back to her, as if he had been turned into rock.
She gathered her clothes as fast as she could, stumbling on pebbles in her haste, and chose a large bush behind which to get dressed.
Her fingers were too cold, too stiff to fasten her tunic’s tiny buttons. She had to leave it open for now. She put her boots on and ventured out of the bushes. Saintclair took one look at her and snarled.
“You can’t go back to camp half dressed.”
She pulled her tunic across her chest to cover up, shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
“I can’t do the buttons up,” she said, showing him her hands still red raw with cold.
He tightened his lips but didn’t answer.
The sun now peeped above the rugged hilltop, a huge orange ball setting the sky on fire. Dazzled, Harriet caught her breath.
“This is…magnificent. We don’t have sunrises like that in England.”

He gazed at her face, at her eyes filled with wonder.
“No but you have rain, summer storms.”
He stepped closer and looked down into her eyes. “I always wanted to stand outside in a thunderstorm.” Her eyes were a rain cloud right now, cool and soothing.
She smiled. “You might get hit by lightning.”
“Maybe, but what a beautiful way to die,” he said. His breathing was a little faster, his gaze heavier.
She parted her lips but didn’t answer. The colour of her cheeks deepened. In the opening of her tunic, the gold pendant gleamed against her milky white skin. His fingers itched to toy with it and bring it to his lips, still hot and fragrant from her body.

'The Lion's Embrace' is available from MuseitUp Publishing

MuseitUp Publishing The Lion's Embrace

Friday, 18 January 2013

'The Lion's Embrace' now available for pre-order!

My second historical romance, 'The Lion's Embrace', is now available for pre-order at 20% off from https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=655&category_id=205&manufacturer_id=227&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1


Blurb

Arrogant, selfish and dangerous, Lucas Saintclair is everything Harriet Montague dislikes in a man. He is also the best guide in the whole of the Barbary States, the only man who can rescue her archaeologist father from the gang of Tuareg fighters that has kidnapped him. As Harriet embarks on a perilous journey across Algeria with Saintclair and Archibald Drake, her father’s most trusted friend, she discovers a bewitching but brutal land where nothing is what it seems. Who are these men intent on stealing her father’s ransom? What was her father hoping to find in Tuareg queen Tin Hinan’s tomb? Is Lucas Saintclair really as callous as he claims—or is he a man haunted by a past he cannot forgive? Dangerous passions engulf Harriet’s heart in the heat of the Sahara. Secrets of lost treasures, rebel fighters, and a sinister criminal brotherhood threaten her life and the life of the man she loves.

Does forever lie in the lion’s embrace?


How I loved writing that story! I hope you will love reading it too.