TESS OF THE ROAD: the gorgeous cover!

No long preamble, except to say I keep looking at this in close-up views because I’m madly in love with the pencil textures.

TESS OF THE ROAD_FINAL 08.17.17[1] (1)

This is not a specific scene from the book, and yet it encapsulates the book so very well. Look at her down there, my Tess, small, strong, and stubborn, staring back at the abyss.

The abyss is going to blink first.

Edited to add: Of course, like a doofus, I forgot to mention it’s available for pre-order from your local indy bookstore. Likewise, there are lots of different on-line pre-order options at Underlined and, for Canadians, there’s Indigo.

Tune in tomorrow

… for the TESS OF THE ROAD cover reveal!

I was originally going to show you the new SERAPHINA and SHADOW SCALE covers at the same time, but apparently those require a bit more awesomeness before they’re ready for general consumption. Which is kind of bizarre, to me, because I really liked them already. However, I trust that the publishers know their business on this, and hey, who am I to complain about having two cover reveal dates? It’s like spreading your birthday out over a whole month.

Still excited about tomorrow, though. I woke up in the middle of the night and thought about the TESS cover and literally gave myself chills. They gave me art, friends. ART. I’ve always been so lucky in my covers.

See you then!

Anxiety dream

I was supposed to give a talk about Tess of the Road at a library (which was also a piano bar, as is so often the case). The place was full of friends from high school (who were also construction workers, because of course they were). I entered the witness box, next to the piano, and the piano asked me, “Why, exactly, did you write this book?”

And I couldn’t remember.

I woke up in a panic, utterly convinced that this was a sign of impending Alzheimer’s disease. I managed to settle down again by enumerating to myself all the reasons why I wrote Tess of the Road.

There’s never just one reason. There’s usually more like a dozen. I’m not even sure I listed all of them before I fell asleep again.

It’s kind of rare for an anxiety dream to be about the exact thing you’re anxious about, and it’s possible this one wasn’t; I have a nice long list of things to worry about as well. Still, the cover reveal on Thursday is the starting line of a long race toward my release date (Feb. 27th!), building anticipation, sparking interest, getting noticed, and – yes – answering questions.

Tess is the kind of book that sparks questions, even from dream-pianos.

I can tell you right now: Alzheimer’s isn’t irrelevant. My paternal grandfather had Alzheimer’s, and my maternal grandmother had some kind of vascular dementia. As someone who spends a lot of time in her own brain, dementia is one of my biggest fears, and something that could very well happen to me eventually. One of my goals in this book was to look dementia in the eye, and to write about it lovingly and compassionately — not romanticizing it, but not succumbing to fear either.

Where does the brain end and the body begin? How much control do we have over what we remember and when we remember it? Where do memories really reside, and what are they for, ultimately?

Anyway — cover reveal on Thursday! Don’t let me forget, haha.


Eclipse viewing for the cautious astronomer

Super excited about the eclipse tomorrow, but worried about your eyeballs? You’re not alone. My physicist husband wouldn’t trust anything short of a welder’s glasses with a suitably high rating, and even then he’d merely feel reassured that he could quantify the damage, nothing else.

In 1994, we witnessed a partial eclipse in St. Louis, outside the physics department at Washington University. My husband said, “You can tell the theorists from the astronomers. The theorists are looking at the sun through various viewers and dark glass; the astronomers aren’t looking at the sun at all.”

Well, kids, here’s what I learned from those cautious astronomers, and I’m passing this along to you because it’s cool: you can make a pinhole camera right on your own stomach. I don’t mean those big clunky boxes you see kids wearing in old photos — that’s overkill. This is much simpler, and it really works. I did it in 1994.

Wear a single-color shirt — white is good, but anything will do. You just don’t want words or a pattern interfering with your projection. Your stomach is the movie screen.

Form a little square “pinhole” by pressing the tips of your thumbs and index fingers together. It doesn’t have to be super tiny, just whatever gap is naturally there. Hold that pinhole a foot or so in front of your stomach and aim it toward the sun. It takes a little work, moving it in and out to find the best focal length, but you will find that you can project an image of the diminishing sun onto your belly.

Another unexpected detail: the gaps in overhead foliage also act as pinhole cameras. The ground beneath the trees will be covered in hundreds of dancing crescents!

I know there will be folks who won’t feel like they’ve seen it unless they SEE it through a viewer of some kind. I just wanted to reassure the eyesight-risk-averse among us that there are fun options. We can’t all throw caution to the wind like those devil-may-care theoretical physicists.

Coming soon: cover reveal!

Thursday, August 24th, I will finally have the privilege of sharing the TESS OF THE ROAD cover with you, along with new covers for the re-release of SERAPHINA and SHADOW SCALE.

I’m so excited, y’all, and I’m glad it’s coming soon because it’s hard to keep my mouth shut. I’m really happy with these, especially TESS, and I hope you’ll enjoy them, too.

In other news: a few nice reviews are already trickling in at Goodreads. I read ALL the reviews for my first book, and none of them for my second, and now — older and wiser — I’m wondering whether I can read some of the reviews, some of the time, for my third. Nothing in excess, as the Delphic temple of Apollo used to say.

I accidentally typed “odder and wiser” at first, which was inadvertently accurate.

The quirkier pictures

Just a few bits of silliness I didn’t want to clutter the travelogue with.

First: you may not realize this, but Ottorino Respighi and I share a birthday. I know, I know, EXCITING. Well, exciting if you’re some kind of classical music nerd, raised on classical music. He’s best-known for his Roman tone poems; my favourite is Feste Romane (which is inexplicably the least well-known), but the other two are Fountains of Rome (of which there are many, check) and Pines of Rome.

The actual pines of Rome struck me pretty hard, is what I’m trying to get around to saying. They’re like something out of Dr. Seuss.


Those are all pines, in the distance. They trim them up into an umbrella shape.

They were beautiful, and they were everywhere. They shed needles, as all pines do, which roast under the sun and smell amazing. Like pine toast, or pine coffee. Warm and welcoming.

I mean, the fountains were great, too. But the PINES! I was utterly enamored.

And now, a self-indulgent selfie at the Pantheon:


Lookin’ cute, by gosh.

Moving right along, here’s an ancient Roman bridge – the Pons Fabricius – that my son knew existed, thanks to David Macaulay books, but my husband and I had never heard of. Thanks David Macaulay!


That’s my husband up there, to the right of the lampposts.

At the Capitoline Museums, we met that giant foot from Monty Python animations. Actually, it was from a colossal statue of Constantine.


That’s my colossal offspring, on the left.

We were missing our whippet, but luckily there were many classical depictions of sight hounds. This plinth was my second favourite. The best one, I didn’t get a picture of, alas. B got a good pic, and I’ll have to see if he’ll let me post it, otherwise I could probably find it online. It’s a pretty famous piece at the Vatican.


Such good doggies! And such well-rendered sight hounds.

Here’s a famous little dude from Pompeii, the eponymous faun from House of the Faun. We also saw the famous Alexander and Cave Canem mosaics. It was like seeing old friends. Very old.


This faun has clearly never met a stranger.

I wish I’d gotten pictures of the frescoes from the Villa dei Misteri, but the light was bad and I was too busy having chills. Brrr. Nothing like paintings that give you the shivers.

Naples was gorgeous, although it was a bit challenging to get around. It took us a while to find our hotel because we didn’t realize that dark tunnel was the street we were supposed to walk up. When we finally did walk up it, it turned out to be the secret dark alley of second-hand booksellers. I’ve been a second-hand bookseller. I know their mysterious ways.


I followed these two guys everywhere, surreptitiously snapping pictures. I just made that sound way creepier than it was.

Best Neapolitan dessert: eggplant filled with sweet ricotta and drizzled with chocolate. 3/3 voted it delicious. The more traditional Neapolitan sfogliatelle were also a delight.


It was like eggplant cannoli. Of course I had to eat it.

I took a million volcano pictures, but this is my favourite. Who photographs the photographer? Me, apparently.


Sulphur, iron, and my tall son.

I didn’t take nearly enough pictures of Ortygia, which was made up of little streets like this. Streets from back before cars were a consideration. Ironically, it was one of the few places we drove. Not on this street, though.


It’s those dudes again. They were everywhere.

Last, but never least, Roman latrine from Villa Romana del Casale. I mentioned my love of Roman plumbing. You should have seen the private baths on this place, friends. And who wouldn’t want to gaze upon frolicking gazelle mosaics in the loo? Nobody, that’s who.


Italian birthday

I’m back from Italy, where I had the good sense to turn forty-five. Shall I inflict pictures upon you? Indeed I shall!

I need to start with a little caveat, which is this: I was very nearly a classicist, at university. There are some aged classics professors who probably still lament this in their hearts – how did we lose her? Where did it all go wrong? – but in truth they never lost me. I couldn’t quite get my head around Greek cases, alas, and that’s the shameful truth. (This is one of the reasons there are so many grammar jokes in my books; I have a lot of grammatical issues to work through). I’ve wandered far afield since university, but my first love was always the classical Mediterranean world, and that has never changed. My husband loves this stuff as much as I do, and so when we go on vacation, we’re serious about seeing the antiquities.

So, fair warning: I mostly took pictures of rocks, although many of them are shaped like buildings.

We started in Rome, with the obligatory Colosseum and Forum (I say “obligatory,” but they were glorious) :


View from the House of the Vestals

And the Pantheon:


My heart leapt when I saw it

The next day we hit the Vatican museums and Castel Sant’Angelo:


St. Peter’s, seen from Castel Sant’Angelo (Hadrian’s Mausoleum)

Then on to the Baths of Caracalla, Catacombs of St. Sebastian, and Appia Antica the next day:


So huge. Later we saw the Baths of Diocletian, which were even bigger.

We spent the next day museum-ing and doing laundry, and then we were off to Napoli by train. Made it to Pompeii a little on the late side, thinking to miss the heat of the day, but we’re Vancouverites so that didn’t really help. However, Pompeii was everything I’d dreamed it would be, and more. Something I hadn’t quite thought through is that Pompeii was a city, and the ruin is, indeed, as big as a freaking city. It goes on and on.


Pompeii was number one on my “Must See Before I Die” list. Don’t worry, plenty of things still on it. Not allowed to die for a while yet.

The next day we saw Herculaneum, which was a more manageable size, more like I’d always pictured Pompeii to be:


And full of amazing, well-preserved details like this, a mosaic of Neptune and Amphitrite. 

We took an underground tour of Naples, which wasn’t too creepy (I love ancient plumbing – to a weird degree, honestly – but ancient cisterns creep me out. Not a believer in past lives, but… I was definitely a plumber. Who drowned in the sewers.)

We never sit still! The next day (my actual birthday) we flew to Palermo, Sicily, and then drove across the island to get to Mount Etna, the famous (and famously active) volcano, home of Hephaestus and prison of the monster Typhon. We took the gondola halfway up the next morning, and then hiked the rest of the way to the top.


Mio marito and mio figlio upon the endless lava fields. There are two actively smoking cones up ahead, and we saw half a dozen more that were dormant. 

We recovered over lunch, and on we went to Syracuse, site of one of the most memorable scenes from Thucydides, an ancient war crime. Seven thousand Athenian soldiers were herded into this quarry and imprisoned there for seventy days, given only a cup of water and a pint of grain per day, roasting in the sun, surrounded by ever-increasing piles of corpses and filth. I read this account in Greek, back at university, and never forgot it. We had to see where it happened.


There’s a bit more shade now.

In Syracuse, we stayed on the island of Ortygia, which was picturesque. Ate real Sicilian cannoli. And we saw the Duomo, which is Baroque on the outside and contains almost an entire Doric temple to Athena on the inside:


You’d never guess, just looking.

Finally, it was our last day in Sicily, so of course we had to drive across the entire island again, PLUS hit two more UNESCO Word Heritage sites on the way. The first one, in particular, blew me away. It was Villa Romana del Casale, and it has the biggest, most astonishing, best preserved Roman mosaics I have ever seen.


Female athletes. If you’re like me, you’re wondering whether that was Roman underwear – or some kind of ancient bikini – but apparently it was an outfit specifically intended for sports.

I don’t even know how to describe it. Every single room, the first of us into the room would gasp loudly, and the rest of us would be like, “What could possibly make you gasp, after all the mosaics we’ve already seen?” And then WE would enter the room and gasp. Pompeii was on my bucket list, but this place I’d never even heard of, particularly, was the most wondrous thing I saw on the entire trip.

Even the Valley of the Temples, which we saw later that day, couldn’t measure up. Here’s the Temple of Concord, which inspired the UNESCO World Heritage logo, and which on any other day would have been the coolest thing I saw:


*snore* Sorry, Concord.

So that’s the whirlwind tour. I have a few more amusing pictures to share, but will put them in a separate post, as this is already way too long.

It was a good place to have a birthday. Forty-five feels pivotal to me, somehow, like a halfway point. I’m sure it isn’t, literally, but it feels that way. I’ve climbed the volcano and looked around me. Onward, friends, toward wonders we haven’t even imagined yet.