I know – it doesn’t look that special, does it? But this is the British Library, aka my spiritual home in London. I spent 6 joyous months there researching my PhD thesis and even now, when I walk through the doors, I smile grin like a lunatic. That may sound a bit deranged, but come on – where else might you pass an antique printing press on your way to the loo? So this was my first stop when I got off the train at Euston. I didn’t have anything to look up this time, but went in anyway to pay my respects. (And if you’re looking for a clever gift for a bookish person, you could do a lot worse than adopting one of their books.)

I met my editor, Mara Bergman of Walker Books, for lunch. Her office is on the South Bank in a converted Victorian factory.

The sign says, "Horatio Myer & Co Ltd, bedstead manufacturers"

We had a lovely lunch with Katie, a cover designer, and Emily, Mara’s editorial assistant. Mara is a wonderful editor and she’s also an award-winning picture-book author! She very generously gave me her latest book, Oliver Who Travelled Far and Wide, and it’s already become my son’s new favourite book.

Mara, holding some random title, with Katie & Emily

After lunch I met Patrick Insole, who designed the gorgeous covers for Spy and Body. I really, really, really love Patrick’s work but that didn’t stop me from coercing him into taking a picture. I’m told he detests photos. Soz, P.

After meeting several other Walkerites, all of whom were absolutely lovely and passionate about books (hello Jane and Emma and Sean!), I wandered across to the Albert Embankment, where the weather finally matched my mood.

That sky looks fake, I know, but I used no filters and haven't tweaked anything on this image.

The following day I met my agent, Rowan Lawton, for breakfast. I adore talking with Rowan – she never fails to be inspiring and energizing. We talked about the next book, and the next, and then about some wacky ideas I was kicking around. It was brilliant.

I spent the rest of my time wandering around Bloomsbury, researching the setting for my next novel. If there’s a happier job in the world, I have yet to hear of it.

And now, book news: the blog tour for The Agency 2: The Body at the Tower starts on August 2 at the Story Siren! My theme this time is Notorious Victorians – oh, yes.

I’m in England with my family! Now that we’ve all adjusted to local time, we’re tourist-ing it up. We began with a steam-train expedition on the East Lancashire Railway, which was perfect on a rainy day:

The weather helped towards a Victorian atmosphere.

It was a diesel engine on the way out but we came back by steam.

Waiting for a heavily laden tea-trolley to trundle by.

The East Lancs Railway is run primarily by volunteers – especially impressive when you realize that it runs every weekend throughout the year, with extra trains in the holiday season.

A couple of days later, we went to the newly restored Clitheroe Castle. The last time I was there, it was still a ruin.

Clitheroe Castle

The castle keep dates to Norman times.

The museum entrance - a bit of a jolt, when you round the corner.

Today, I’m in London. More anon.

Here’s O’Hara reading it:

This is the full text of the poem, at the Poetry Foundation archive.

And here’s the abbreviated version my husband & I joked about improvising, in the event that I lost my specially marked-up reading-aloud version (the one with S – L – O – W ! scrawled at the top of the page):

Having a Coke with You

(with apologies to Frank O’Hara)

is more fun than going on a bender with a Eurail Pass.

Art is all right.

But not as all right as you.

Congratulations, Sarah and Steve. I love you – and your taste in poetry.

Context: When James Easton goes to India, he catches a severe case of malaria. On the voyage home, still just recovering from his illness, he becomes acquainted with Jeremy and Sybil Alleyn, a brother-and-sister duo who were raised in India. Sadly, Body became very long and one of the things I had to cut was the Alleyns’s appearance. I do, however, have high hopes for them. This won’t be the last time you see them.

There’s nothing spoiler-ish here, so you can read with impunity. When you’re done with this scene, read the official excerpts from the finished novel, if you haven’t already!

Click here for the deleted scene from The Body at the Tower

Click here for an excerpt from Body

Download the prologue & first chapter from Candlewick Press

1. L. M. Montgomery, Emily of New Moon.

I read the Anne books first, but this is the trilogy that stayed with me. Emily Starr is, like Anne Shirley, a fiery, much-misunderstood orphan raised by loving but emotionally stunted adults in Prince Edward Island. But despite the similarities, the Emily novels are a bit darker, a bit subtler, and that much more perceptive. At least, I think so – I’m terrified to re-read them because they’ll never live up to my childhood experience of reading.

2. Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Oh, the Murrys: they were the first intellectual family I read about, and I was absolutely enchanted. As much as I loved Meg’s and Charles Wallace’s adventures (Mrs. Whosit! Aunt Beast! Meg, declaiming poetry to save Charles Wallace!), it was the family bond that I found truly addictive. They’re such serious, thoughtful, nuanced YA novels.

3. George Eliot, Middlemarch

I love this novel so much that I have trouble talking about it critically. I first read it as an undergrad and it changed the way I thought about Victorian novels. It’s rich and subtle, and every time I re-read it I marvel at different aspects of the story. It’s beautifully written, utterly moving, and I think everybody in the English-speaking world should read it. Really.

And that’s my desert-island 3. For now. What are yours?

1) A family funeral,

2) The wedding of a dear friend, and

3) My first meeting with a nephew who was born last year.

Being confronted with Major Life Events always makes me reel, but don’t worry – I’m not going to wax overly philosophical. What struck me this evening is how very Victorian this triad of events is, yet how much our expectations have evolved over a century.

The nineteenth century was an age of high infant mortality, lower life expectancy, contagious diseases, and relatively primitive medical care. As a result, death was a frequent and familiar sort of terror. A Victorian person of my age would likely have known multiple deaths within her family and circle of friends, through both accident and illness. I’m downright insulated in comparison, something I never think of without a shiver of relief.

Marriage is still an important rite of passage but once again, it’s changed so much. Women and men think hard about whether they want to marry, and whom. They create and dissolve contracts as they choose. And the word “spinster” is seldom heard anymore, except in legal documents. Much as we agonize about relationships, they’re so easy now because we have such freedom of choice. In contrast, when a young Victorian woman entered into marriage, she was transferred from the legal power of her father to that of her husband. She couldn’t own property in her own name, until 1882. And if her husband was abusive or negligent, it was extremely difficult for her to obtain a divorce.

Childbirth is incredibly safe, in the year 2010. In affluent countries, maternal death in childbirth is rare. Newborns generally live. And when babies are born ill, our first question is, “How can we heal them?” rather than, “Will they live?” Once born, we expect healthy babies to thrive; the first year is no longer a gamble.

So while I’m feeling bruised by this sudden confluence of turning points, I’ve got nothing on the Victorians.

This week in reviews:

The first blog review for The Body at the Tower is up! Librarian Jennifer Rummel (aka YA Book Nerd) says, “I ADORE this series… I just want MORE (and quickly!).” Body will be published in the US/Canada by Candlewick on August 10, and in the UK by Walker Books on 6 September.

Joanne missed her best-friend-from-high-school’s wedding by 7 days. Eek!

Steph almost missed a transatlantic flight by 24 hrs.

Mary, Penny, and Christie have missed doctor’s appointments by pretty wide margins.

Ari’s family was 4 hours late to an event they thought was the next day (which makes them early, kind of…)

Lizzy was late to a grad school interview. (She got in anyway – yay!) Love the detail about driving for an extra 2.5 hours on Earth Day.

Tara was 2 hours late to her own wedding reception and blames her husband’s wardrobe malfunction. (Oh, sure…)

Sanjana missed an international flight by a good few hours, while idling in a coffee shop. Ouch.

Spav was 2 hours late for a flight because of a snowstorm – in Madrid!

BrittLit and Barbara keep it simple: just oversleep.

Sarah took a major detour to the starting line of a cross-country race – that’s a great image.

And there’s Rebs, who missed the contest deadline by 24 hrs, which is kind of awesome in itself.

But my favourite tardy story here is Griffin’s, who managed a tour of 2 countries and 3 states in a snowstorm, yet never quite made it to his meeting. As he says, “we spent almost two full days driving, never reached our destination and became a cautionary tale for others”. Now THAT’s epic.

The randomly drawn winner is Steph Burgis. Yes, she’s a friend. But I promise: her number came out of the random generator. Congratulations, Griffin and Steph – an ARC of The Body at the Tower is on its way to each of you.

And shame on us all.

Also, I’m featured at Books on the House this week. Enter there to win copies of A Spy in the House plus an Agency t-shirt.

When Misa Ramirez of Books on the House interviewed me, she asked, “Are your books serious, or does your wit come through?” I’m not really happy with the answer I gave then, so I thought I’d try again here. Ahem.

Long answer:

The Mary Quinn novels are dramatic novels that include comic moments. I write them in the tradition of two serious genres (historical fiction, mystery novels) but also joke about the expectations and conventions of those categories.

Having said that, one of the delightful things about novels is that nobody reads one the same way. What’s funny, dramatic, bland, or ridiculous to me will be quite different to you, dear reader. So while I wrote some scenes with the intention of providing comedy, some readers won’t find them funny. Some scenes, which I consider serious, will seem absurd to others. But it doesn’t really matter whether I think my books are funny. The question is, do you?

Short answer:

No.

Also, thoughts on author branding

Did you read Maureen Johnson’s Manifesto? It was much disseminated on Twitter this week but if you don’t want to click over, here it is in brief: Maureen Johnson spoke at a conference where her co-panellist endlessly declared, “I am a brand. I am a brand. I am a brand.” MJ begs to differ: she is just herself and uses social networks to have conversations and create connections with people. She also likes loves snacks.

MJ’s position is entirely reasonable and sane. But what really stayed with me was the unnamed co-panellist’s proud and frequent declaration: “I am a brand.” It’s one of the saddest things I’ve read lately. Not: I am a writer. I am a thinker. I am creative person. Not even, I am a lover, a believer, a human being with valuable and passionate relationships. No, the co-panellist (as depicted by Maureen Johnson) has reduced herself to a few key search terms and the smoothest veneer possible.

I take it back: it’s not one of the saddest things I’ve read lately. It’s one of the most grotesque things I’ve ever read.

I’m off to fetch MJ a snack.

I feel oddly unencumbered at the moment because I’ve just delivered the manuscript for the third MQ novel, The Traitor and the Tunnel, along with the proofread galleys for the UK ed of book 2, The Body at the Tower. It’s a lovely, surreal sort of freedom and much of it involves wondering, “What shall I write next?”

This might be my favourite part of the writing life: cooking up the next project. Once I’ve dealt with the mundane things – cut hair, clear desk, re-design filing system – I get to research and ponder and play and puzzle. Does that sound familiar to all of you? Or is there some other aspect you find more appealing?

Happy June, everyone!

Are you always running late? I try very hard to be punctual but occasionally, bad planning and fate get the better of me. I once missed a flight out of Paris because the journey to Charles de Gaulle took 3 hours, instead of the planned 1.5. (A lovely airline employee took pity on my idiocy and put me on the next flight.) Another time, I was 60 minutes late meeting friends in Victoria, BC because I missed my ferry (I didn’t have a cell phone then; amazingly, my friends waited around the cafe for a whole hour and we met up). And then I nearly missed the ferry back, because we were having dinner and talking too much to watch the clock. Yikes. Reading this over, I sound like a pretty feckless person. But I try, I really try.

So when I was researching The Body at the Tower, I felt a mingled sense of amusement and outrage when I read that the reconstruction of the Palace of Westminster (where the Houses of Commons and Lords sit, and the site of Big Ben) ran a full quarter-century late! That’s so late it’s almost fabulous. Almost.

And that’s the theme for my new contest. To enter to win one of two ARCs of The Body at the Tower (published August 10), just leave a comment answering this question:

What’s the most shamefully, ridiculously late you’ve ever been?

or, if you’re one of those sickening, effortlessly on-time people: What’s the silliest excuse anyone’s ever given for being late to meet you?

Rules:

You may have extra entries for sharing via your blog, Twitter, or Facebook accounts (1 extra per network).

Contest closes June 30. June 15. Can’t wait to give these away!

One winner will be randomly drawn. The other ARC will go to the commenter whose reply makes me gasp aloud.

Good luck, everyone!