Wednesday, February 17, 2021
Saturday, February 6, 2021
A daughter's tribute to her mother: Christina Rossetti in her own words to her mother Frances Rossetti (nee Polidori)
Sonnets are full of love, and this our tome
So full of sonnets: so here now shall be
A sonnet and a love - sonnet from me
To my first love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose heart is still my heart’s most quiet home,
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come.
And so because you love me, and because
I love you Mother, i have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
The above was from a two page undated letter by Christina Rossetti to her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Housed and Archived as part of Christina Rossetti's papers at Harry Ransom Center, Austin, Texas.
Monday, February 1, 2021
Sunday, January 31, 2021
Monday, January 11, 2021
I am all you have. I am your link between life and death You are now my plaything and you will do as you are told. We shall see how well you perform before I decide what is to be done with you.
If you are searching for a gripping psychological thriller then The Photographer should be top of your list. Author, Kevin Marsh does his research in writing every aspect of the story, plot, and keeping the tension for the reader. I know what to expect from one of the author's thrillers. I am a great admirer of how he writes his novels. When it comes to his thrillers, I am on the edge of my seat reading up late at night even when I am tired because I must know what is going to happen next. From the start, I get hooked in to the main characters and if there are couples then I'm invested!
As a reader you can expect the abductor to be violent and emotionally manipulative with his female kidnap victims. The Photographer has an interesting group of detectives of every rank. I enjoyed finding out in which situations their personalities came out.
When it comes to psychological thrillers in general, I enjoy getting to know the main and support cast of characters. I read The Photographer as if I was putting together a jigsaw puzzle. What is the connection between abductor and victim/s? Who is targeted, who is kidnapped and why? I am always surprised by plot twists which is half the fun of reading a psychological thriller or perhaps its just me!
The Photographer by Kevin Marsh is available for purchase on Amazon UK
Friday, December 25, 2020
My father left a small collection of books in a little room upstairs to which I have access and which nobody else in our house ever troubled. From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Blas, and Robinson Crusoe, came out a glorious host, to keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place and time - they, and the Arabian Nights and the Tales of the Geni- and did me no harm; for, whatever harm was in some of them, was not there for me; I knew nothing of it. It is astonishing to me now, how I found time, in midst of my porings and blunderings over heavier times, to read those books as I did. It is curious to me how I could ever have consoled myself under my small troubles (which were great troubles to me), by impersonating my favourite characters in them... I have been Tom Jones (a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few volumes of voyages and travels-I forget what, now - that were on those shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my region of our house, armed with the centre-piece out of an old set of boottrees: the perfect realisation of Captain Somebody, of the Royal British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell his life at a great price... When I think of it, the picture always rises in mind of a summer evening, the boys at play in the churchyard, and I sitting on my bed reading as if for life. Every barn in the neighbourhood, every stone in the church, and every foot of the churchyard, had some association of its own, in my mind, connected with these books, and stood for some locality made famous in them. I have seen Tom Pipes go climbing up the church steeple; I have watched Strap, with the knapsack on his back, stopping to rest himself upon the wicket-gate; and I know that Commodore Trunnion held that club with Mr. Pickle in the parlour of our little village house.
They all three repaired to the large kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to annual custom on Christmas Eve... From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just suspended, with his own hands, a huge branch of mistletoe, and this same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a scene of general and most delightful struggling and confusion; in the midst of which, Mr. Pickwick, with a gallantry that would have done honour to a descendant of lady Tollimglower herself, took the old lady by the hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy and decorum.
I look into my youngest Christmas recollections! All toys at first, I find. Up yonder, among the green holly and red berries, is the Tumbler with his hands in his pockets, who wouldn't lie down, but whenever he was put upon the floor, persisted in rolling his fat body about, until he rolled himself still, and brought those lobster eyes of his to bear upon me-when I affected to laugh very much, but in my heart of hearts was extremely doubtful of him. Close beside him is that infernal snuff-box, out of which there sprang a demoniacal Counsellor in a black gown, with an obnoxious head of hair, and a red cloth mouth, wide open, who was not to be endured on any terms, but could not be put away either...The cardboard lady in a blue-silk skirt, who was stood up against the candlestick to dance, and whom I see on the same branch, was milder, and was beautiful; but I can't say as much for the larger cardboard man, who used to be hung against the wall and pulled by a string; there was a sinister expression in that nose of his; and when he got his legs round his neck, he was ghastly, and not a creature to be alone with.When did that dreadful Mask first look at me? Who put it on, and why was I so frightened that the sight of it is an era in my life?... Nothing reconciled me to it... Nor was it any satisfaction to be shown the Mask, and see that it was made of paper, or to have it locked up and be assured that no one wore it. The mere recollection of that fixed face, the mere knowledge of its existence anywhere, was sufficient to awake me in the night all perspiration and horror, with, "O I know it's come! O the mask!".
Friday, December 4, 2020
His first novel, The Belgae Torc was launched on 30th June 2012 with his second book, The Witness, a psychological thriller, being published in March 2013. The Gordian Knot was published the following year with Cutting the Gordian Knot (The Final Solution) in July 2016. The Belgae Torc, The Gordian Knot and Cutting the Gordian Knot are known as The Torc Trilogy and are available as a set. These action adventure historical/modern day novels are quite different from his other books.
The Cellist, a thriller containing characters borrowed from the Witness came along in 2017 and there are two more novels in this series yet to be published.
Whilst holidaying in France a few years ago Kevin and his wife Maria decided to give up working full time, sell their house and move to the beautiful Kent countryside. Kevin now spends his time writing novels and learning to read music whilst occasionally teaching when required.
For more information check out his website:-
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