The Bridge and the Dolmen

I pondered that question readers and interviewers love to hurl at authors earlier this month. You know the one I mean, don't you?

Where does your inspiration come from?

I long found it so hard to answer, and since it seems to be the bait favoured by scammers nowadays, I've become wary of it. It is, however, an interesting question, and one I think all writers, musicians, and artists of any ilk ought to reflect upon. This morning, I decided to start my day off from the day job as a heritage tour guide (guide-conférencier) by visiting a couple of the numerous remarkable sites in my neck of the woods here in the Brière, southern Brittany. In other words, the tour guide gave himself a guided tour. After all, why not?

The first site was one I already knew, and which I drive past regularly on my way to the quaint village of Kerhinet, but today was the first time in years I actually stopped to pay it the homage it deserves. The Kerbourg Dolmen is one of the best-preserved examples of Neolithic architecture in the Brière Regional Natural Park. This impressive corridor dolmen, or passage grave, is capped by four large "table stones" (which is the literal translation of the Breton word taol-vaen, which gives us dolmen, the word we typically use to refer to the structure as a whole) and is almost eight metres long. William Collings Lukis, an English archaeologist, conducted a dig here in 1879 and two polished stone axes discovered are displayed at the British Museum. There are in fact two dolmens at Kerbourg, but the second one remains collapsed. Legend has it a fifty-metre underground passage used by korrigans (the pixies or brownies of Breton folklore) connects the two dolmens. I found no trace of it...

The influence the folklore, landscape, and heritage of Brittany has on my fiction can't be overstated, and the inspiration (or awen, as I prefer to call it) with which this ancient land feeds my imagination is nowhere more apparent than in Dead on the Dolmen, my mystery novel featuring Oscar Tremont, Investigator of the Strange and Inexplicable. 

I followed up my pilgrimage to Kerbourg with a visit to an ancient bridge I had been meaning to cross ever since hearing about its existence several years ago. The Gras Bridge, which is technically a ford, dates from the 1st century and was restored in 2014. It is a stone walkway for most of its length and spans the river Mès in the middle. Along the banks of the Mès reeds sway in the wind, and it is this plant that is used to thatch the roofs of the traditional cottages (including mine) here in the Brière.

I'm sure you can appreciate that I no longer have any doubts about how to answer The Question. Awen is all around me, in the stones, the soil, the wind, the water, the reeds, and the trees, and it has been there all along.

Inspiration is a Lighthouse

"Where does your inspiration come from?"

That's a question writers are constantly asked, and it's one we really can't answer. At least, that's how I feel. The word "'inspiration" (or "awen", its Celtic equivalent) means to breathe into something, but where does that breath come from? Unless he's intentionally copying another creator's work, no writer can simply point to where inspiration comes from. That said, every now and then, we catch a glimpse of what drives our creativity; we gain some insight into the workings of our own minds. That happened to me this weekend, while visiting friends in Finistère, Brittany.

After a wonderful evening out and a good night's sleep in the port of Lesconil, I took my family to the Eckmühl Lighthouse in Penmarc'h on Sunday morning. I don't yet know how climbing this sixty-five-metre tower built at the end of nineteenth century will inspire me and find its way into one of my stories, but I know that it will. I felt it before I started climbing the two hundred and fifty steps to the top. That, my dear readers, is perhaps the closest I can come to telling you where my awen comes from. 

The Phare d'Eckmühl is an active lighthouse in Penmarc'h, Finistère department, Brittany, France. At a height of 213 feet (65 m) it is one of the tallest lighthouses in the world. The tower was built following a decision on April 3, 1882 to modernize the coastal lighthouses and raise the focal height of the Penmarc'h lighthouse, built in 1835, to 60m. However, engineers reported that the old tower could not support such an extension, so in 1890 it was decided to build a new lighthouse, the plans of which were completed on April 3, 1882. Funding came unexpectedly on 9 December 1892 when Adélaïde-Louise Davout, Marquise de Blocqueville, left substantial funds for the new tower in her will, provided the lighthouse was dedicated to the memory of her father, a marshal of the First French Empire Louis Nicolas Davout, who was "Prince d'Eckmühl", a title he won after the Battle of Eckmühl. The tower was inaugurated on October 17, 1897.

The people you meet, the places you go, an unexpected moment in time... This is where our inspiration comes from. This is what feeds our fire. And a good keeper doesn't let the fire go out! 

Review: Hell in Her Wake

Greg Chapman delivers with devilish decorum once again in Hell in Her Wake, his latest collection. I enjoyed revisiting a number of stories I'd read before here, including one about a lighthouse that I originally published in a themed anthology. If you're familiar with Greg's storytelling, you'll love this new offering. If you haven't yet had the pleasure of diving into Greg's dark world of demonic dreams and insane imaginings, you won't regret starting with this collection; a baptism of fire and brimstone. As with any collection, some stories struck me more than others. The closer, Hell in Her Wake, is a short demonic novel on an epic scale, full of action, anguish, and a Latin lesson or two. You'll play psychiatrist in Victorian Whitechapel, wed a bride of pure darkness, catch whichever train it takes to save the love of your life, and face infinity on a country road. Every story here has earned its place, but I do have a personal favourite, and it's the one that's still on my mind long after having finished the collection. The Yellow House, inspired by the writings of Robert W. Chambers, held me spellbound, and had me questioning my own perceptions, my own view of the world. That's what Greg Chapman does; he pulls the reader into Hell, Bedlam, or the recesses of the human mind, and makes us confront the darkness, knowing we'll break through to the other side all the stronger for it. Wake up and step into Greg Chapman's twisted visions of Hell.

Find this review on Goodreads.

Review: Insect Kin

"The Day of the Triffids" meets Ballard's "High-Rise" played out in suburban Adelaide. While the title is taken from a song by Bush, this horror story had me hearing "Come to Daddy" by Aphex Twin accompanied by the fluttering of countless chitin wings. Against the backdrop of the pandemic, Matthew Tait offers us this nightmarish tale set in an abandoned housing estate undergoing a metamorphosis.

It all kicks off with the reader plunged into solitary confinement alongside Lucas and Vanessa, experiencing their confusion and desperation. It soon becomes clear where they are, their old housing estate, Ashbrook Court. They have woken up, however, to a new and nightmarish reality that they need to come to terms with.

Insect Kin is an exploration of isolation, insanity, and a world in disorder. If you have a fear of insects, reading this book will push your mind to the limits of its endurance. After all, that's what Matthew Tait does best. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Find this review on Goodreads.

I also did a video review on TikTok!

Dead on the Dolmen Paperback

The game's afoot, mystery hounds!

Dead on the Dolmen is now available to order in print, with the Kindle version going live on the 30th, and the pre-order deal still on.

To celebrate the publication of the first Oscar Tremont mystery, I visited a dolmen, of course, and took a few photos. This impressive neolithic remnant is the Dolmen de La Roche aux Loups, which is in a field in Bergon, Brittany.

These neolithic structures are scattered all over Brittany, and beyond, and we believe they were burial sites. We don't have a lot of information because they're prehistoric, so there are no written records, but they're an iconic part of the landscape. In Dead on the Dolmen, you'll learn all about dolmens, about Breton mythology, and you will uncover the Ankou, the Breton Grim Reaper. 

You can order your copy HERE.