At the age of 15, Annie Garthwaite decided to write a historical novel about Cecily Neville, Duchess of York and the mother of both King Edward IV and Richard III of England. After many years being a success in business, Annie completed her teenage dream and her book, Cecily, hit the bookshops and has been a sensational success.
In the meanwhilst, poet, AK Blakemore was intrigued with the Essex witch trials of the 17th century. Her book, The Manningtree Witches, is a historical novel centred around her heroine, Rebecca West and the self-appointed Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins.
Hopkins was responsible for the deaths of around 300 women over the course of two years. So, a right bastard. Rebecca was one of the women accused.
Both authors were at the Blue Bear Bookshop tonight, chatting about their books and, generally, entertaining a room full of people. Us included.
AK is the one with the glasses to the right of the photograph. Annie WAS in shot, but then the woman in the checked shirt crouched down in front of my camera. Annie is the blonde.
It was our second Farnham Literary Festival session and, again, it was excellent. It was particularly apposite being the day after International Women’s Day and given both authors were women whose books were about women. And, there were a lot of women at the session. Far more than men.
Actually, afterwards, as we walked up to the Nelson’s Arm for a drink before walking home, Mirinda asked me if I was bothered about the patriarchy always being slagged off. I replied that, if anything, I slagged it off just as much as the most rabid Feminist.
And, if you look at the state of the world at the moment and all the senseless death and destruction in Ukraine, it’s all the fault of men. Putin for the lunacy and those that follow his orders for the unnecessary cruelty.
Then, we walked into a pub almost completely full of men. Mirinda reckoned they may have been the husbands of the women at the bookshop. Maybe. We’ll never know. One of them was a rather irritating high talker with views on everything. His voice was like a mosquito, only you couldn’t swat him.
Anyway, for all that, it was another fabulous night at the Farnham Literary Festival, which makes me wonder why there hasn’t been one every year. Still, better late than never.
For a fascinating blog post regarding the Manningtree witches, read this.
