My June Newsletter – Magic Midsummer light and some books to go with it

We are three weeks from the summer solstice, and this year our Midsummer Eve (always celebrated on a Friday here in Sweden) actually falls on the day before. As this celebration tends to extend well into next day, I am assuming many Swedish people will be up and about at 4.41 a.m. when the actual solstice occurs.

Midsummer is an ancient holiday, especially important in Northern Europe where the differences between the light summers and dark winters were very evident. When Europe became Christian, the Catholic Church decided John the Baptist was to be celebrated on Midsummer Eve, hoping perhaps to put an end to the more heathen aspects of this holiday. Didn’t work in Sweden. My ancient forebears paid lip service and assured the priests they were of course going wild and crazy due to John the Baptist, but they all knew the truth: Midsummer was (and is) celebrated to  honour the longest day of the year. Prior to Christianity, we also celebrated Midwinter and the two equinoxes.

In Sweden, we celebrate Midsummer by dancing round the Maypole—like two months two late. Once we’ve finished singing about little frogs (do watch the video…) and merry-go-rounds and foxes that walk across the ice, it is time to eat. And what do we eat? Herring. Lots and lots of herring with new potatoes and snaps. After the herring, we splurge on strawberries and cream. Or cake with strawberries. Or just cake if, like me, you get a rash from strawberries.

Tradition has it that young women should pick seven different flowers on Midsummer Eve and place them under their pillow so as to dream about their future intended. I must admit it never worked for me . . . But the tradition is rather nice, young girls in dresses stepping carefully across meadows dotted with flowers: cornflowers, violets, poppies, marguerites, cow parsley, buttercups,  columbines, meadowsweet, scabious, harebells, St John’s wort—not a hardship to find that varied little bouquet!

Other than herring, strawberries, music and dancing, Midsummer is a magic time of trapped light. Day lingers along the horizon throughout 24 hours. It never gets quite dark, and it is quite possible to sit outside and read well into the evening/night.

So, what to read during those magic hours? I have some recommendations!

I recently read Castaways on the Isle of Devils. It is set early in the 17^th century and the narrative is based round the real events surrounding the wreck of the Sea Venture, the flag ship of the Virginia Company’s third fleet destined for Jamestown. At the time, life in Jamestown wasn’t exactly easy . . .  Recommended!

I have recently reviewed Double Stakes, Alison Morton’s third contemporary thriller. Set in France and Germany, it is fast-paced with an intricate plot woven round some of the more disturbing aspects of present-day politics. Very gripping!

And now, dear peeps, I am going to toot my own horn. On June 16, the anthology FATE: Tales of history, mystery and magic will be released. I collaborate with several marvellous authors to bring you a little bouquet of short stories centred round the concept of fate and destiny. It is a varied offering, covering everything from an Anglo-Saxon woman come face to face with the Norman invaders, to big, black dogs appearing out of nowhere and my Kråka, mistress of crows.

Finally, if you haven’t read it, my book His Castilian Hawk is available for only 0.99 up and to June 3. Yes, yes, I am biased, but I am rather proud of this book – and adore both Robert and Noor. Not that Robert comes across as all that sympathetic to begin with . . .

Robert woke to the sound of a cock crowing. He had a crick in his neck, and his arm was numb. He peered down at Edith, fast asleep within the crook of his arm. His head hurt, and his mouth tasted of ashes. He needed a drink. He sat up, and the bedclothes spilled to the floor.
“Mmm,” Edith said, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t go. Not yet.”
From somewhere came an odd, strangled sound. He squinted in its direction, only to see Eleanor on the stairs leading from the solar. Her eyes widened. He shoved Edith to the side.
“Eleanor,” he began, falling silent as he realised he was surrounded by spectators, tousled heads lifting from pillows to register the new lord of the manor had not slept with his wife. Colour drained from Eleanor’s cheeks. Without a word, she whirled and fled.
“Eleanor!” he repeated, rushing for the door before recalling he was as naked as the day he was born. “Damnation!” Robert scrubbed a hand over his bristling cheeks, his gaze on his wife. Her dark braid was visible beneath her veil, and she was running, no, flying towards the postern gate, with that large dog of hers padding alongside.
“What have you done, you fool?” John asked, appearing beside him. “Tell me you did not spend your wedding night with her.” He pointed at Edith. “Why is she even here?”
“I can assure you I did not invite her. You heard me telling her to stay away.” He could still see Eleanor, still make out the blue of her skirts as she ran and ran up the sloping meadows, placing as much distance as she could between them.
“Is that what you told her last night?” John asked.
“No.” Robert sighed. “I came down for a drink. She—Eleanor—asked me not to bed her, and so…” He shrugged.
“You decided she deserved to have you bed another.”
“No! It wasn’t like that! And you know I care for Edith.”
“She’s not your wife,” John said. “If you care so much about her, why didn’t you wed her?”
“With what?” Robert asked. “Until this”—he gestured at the bailey, the surrounding buildings—“what did I have to offer a wife?” And why would he wed Edith? She was not the kind of woman a man left behind to care for his home and his children while he left for other places. She was far too restless and needy for that. Edith lived off admiration, of the loud whistles that had her swaying seductively as she made her way down an encampment full of brawny men-at-arms.
John made a disgusted sound. “And how have you treated the wife who brought you all this?”

And yes, dear peeps, at this point I was seriously considering exchanging Robert for John, but he became such a growly beast I decided to give him a second chance. I hope you do too!