CENTER STAGE WITH BREE.T. DONOVAN

My very first guest this year on Center Stage, is very special and you will know why in a moment but first let me share some excerpts of my thoughts on the book of the very lovely Bree Donovan

BLACKTHORNS OF THE FORGOTTEN

By Bree T Donovan

Bree Donovan

There is a saying in my corner of the universe which loosely translated simply states that you do not fight what you cannot help. It also sends a prayer that may we never be confronted by what we do not understand. I had to struggle hard to keep my eyes open for Bree was merciless in her determination that I take the full potion of her heady brew. In fact I assumed Bree was male. I could not keep Gillean and Sully away from my vision and those times when I had to eat, became an agony. BLACKTHORNS OF THE FORGOTTEN is a very powerful read indeed.

 Bree has explored in brilliant detail the many forces that shape us and how we may make choices that determine several lifetimes. It is about the threads of fate we sometimes unwittingly weave ourselves into and our ignorance of the true natures of the ethereal forces that surround us. She has given an indication that  Man lives in a world he faintly grasps and he ignores these forces at his own peril.

 The agony of a journey into a man’s soul and heart. The infinite struggle of the shadows in our lives, emotions we are scared about and definitions of love. These are the choices we make. I could not afford to overlook a word or phrase as Bree was unrelenting. Like a swift flowing river, she swept me along. I was a willing victim howling my delight, chilled and thrilled every step of the tumultuous ride. I am African and we live in a seamless world with the elements, the elves and fairies, the gods and demons and this story is thus very plausible and gripping for me. The portrayal of two sides of world so thinly cloaked from each other resonated with me as well.

Bree has made a very brilliant study of the complexities of the human soul, and invited the reader to be hesitant about passing judgment. I would like to congratulate Bree and ..yes forgive her for keeping me on the edge of my seat, away from sleep and my dinner.

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself

I think I’m about the wackiest person I know! Sometimes it can be a good thing. To my benefit or detriment, I still see the world through a child’s eyes which is mostly a blessing. I’m able to recognize the small joys often overlooked in everyday life.

I absolutely love animals, (that’s why I don’t eat them!) music, running, teaching, and my favorite activity is camping under the stars-preferably when it’s summertime and the crickets are chirping away.

2. BLACKTHORNS OF THE FORGOTTEN chilled and thrilled me, you really can’t call it a horror or sci-fi so what can I call it?

You are very perceptive, Biola. I had a heck of a time searching for a publisher, because I didn’t even know what genre the story would fall under. A friend used a term that I never heard before, but I think suits-Magic-Realism. Blackthorns is set in the modern day world, (earth) with characters that anyone of us could meet, and yet, their lives are dusted with the magic of another world.

I’m very grateful to Gerry Huntman of IFWG publishing for actually liking the idea that Blackthorns doesn’t fit neatly into any one box.

3. The Irish have at various times have been said to be fey. What exactly does that mean?

I think from an outsider’s perspective-especially Americans, the Irish seem to be otherworldly and endowed with a certain ability to see and believe in things that others can not, such as fey. Sometimes it can be carried to the comical with dancing leprechauns and the like.

My experience of the Irish people is that there are incredibly down-to-earth. They literally have such strong ties to the earth as generations maintain the farming life. Many are very religious, and by that I mean they adhere strictly to one of the Christian religions. Some are more spiritual meaning they identify with their roots of earlier pagan times of goddesses, fey, and elements from the earth-based believes.

But I think overall they are a wonderful mixture of the two worlds. Because of this ability to believe in not only the Virgin Mary but the Goddess Brigid, they are open to believe in powers that can not be so easily defined.

4. Sully is both victim, protagonist and the mirror of Gillean, does evil interpret goodness?

Wow! What a great question! Sully understands that an elemental component of love is holding the mirror up to another. When we say, “I love you” to someone, we are also saying, “I see myself in you; who I am, who I want to be.”

Sully is not meant to be the representation of goodness, nor Gillean meant to represent evil. Through pain, time and learning, Sully is more evolved spiritually than Gillean. But both struggle with what it is to be human, and the one thing no human can avoid, “The D word”; Desire.

Your question reminds me of a quote that relates to the Jewish Holocaust; “For evil to succeed, good men must do nothing.”

5. At the end of the story and running as a subtle thread is the story of Keelin who I sometimes suspected had a link also with Ciar. If they are soulmates since Adara never felt any attraction for Ciar, what happened to Keelin?

I never like to define who the characters ultimately are because of astute observations such as yours. I never thought of Keelin having a link to Ciar. But, she may indeed have!

Keelin’s main link is to Sully since he risked his status so to speak as a re-encounter to rescue the human child, Keelin from an awful existence. It is through Sully’s example that Keelin learns the nature of love, both of the romantic-when she observes Sully and Gillean, and of friendship through the shared feelings between Sully and her.

Keelin offers herself up for Sully. I’d like to think that she too received a reward for her efforts in the end. Wink!

6. Somehow I feel one might give another title to the book like Gillean’s metamorphosis? Would I be right?

Indeed. Or simply, “Metamorphosis” since all the characters go through some major changes.

7. How long have you been writing?

I wrote songs and poems from the time I was a child-around seven-years-old. My mother would read to me at the kitchen table at night, (Little House on The Prairie books) that planted the seed in me. I wanted to tell stories that people could share as well.

8. Your book will be right home with us in Africa but for the sensitive handling of Sully’s agonized love affair, what plans do you have to extend your readership to Africa?

That is a wonderful complement to be considered for an African readership. The African history of storytelling is so rich. When I taught music, one of my most favorite lessons was teaching my students how most of our modern-day music is a direct descendent of African storytelling.

You know the expression; “Write what you know”? I feel pulled by my mind and heart to write about Ireland to the best of my ability. I would love to pick up readers from abroad. I’d gladly take some pointers from you as to how to do this since you are one gifted, African storyteller.

9. Do the Irish still have the concepts you so brilliantly portrayed in the novel. The keening, spirits, elves, and beings who are wedged in the ether of our conscious living experiences?

I think of my grandmother who was a devout Catholic. But, she was also attuned to the spirit world. She saw no conflict in praying the Rosary every night, and also believing in elves that lived in wood, danced around the kitchen when the household was asleep. She prayed to the Virgin Mary-her namesake, but I saw a lot of the goddess Brigid in her too. I’ve written a short-story about this very topic, called, Mercy.

10. You portrayed through Sully’s earth journeys, concept of incarnation, possession, evil hauntings and a prosaic working Arch Angel. What do you believe?

Gosh! That’s a big question! When it comes to religion and/or spirituality, I can’t say that I absolutely adhere to any one, or set of beliefs. What I have experienced over the years is that there are most certainly people who carry with them the wisdom, spirit and light from another place and time. I believe these people are angels, for lack of a better word, on earth. They speed across the universe leaving stardust behind in their wake. The world is better for having them in it for however long.

As to the creed I live my life by, I try my best to live simply and by the Golden Rule; Do unto others as they would have them do unto you. This goes for all sentient beings, not just humans.

Do I believe in incarnation, evil hauntings and the like? Let’s just say there is one person in particular who has left this earth, but promised me we that we will see one another again. I believe him!

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

11. Can your book also be described as a romantic spiritual adventure story?

Oh yes. It’s romance as I define it. I see romance and love filled with the supernatural and the coming together of souls…what could be more spiritual?

12. Share an average writing day

I wish I could say that I’m the kind of person who makes time to write every day-no matter what, even if it’s just 15 minutes. The truth is I only write when I have an idea that keeps picking at me; it excites me, it challenges me, and then I kick into full writing gear. I can write for 4-5 hours a sitting when I’m really jazzed.

I do like to read a lot. I think that reading other people’s work is a tremendous tool for a writer. So is walking my dog!

13. Have there been influences on your writing style and concepts, please share some.

My greatest influence on my actual writing style would be my late fiancé who was from Ireland. He was not a writer, but a natural storyteller. He could light up a room with his lively conversation. I was always amazed at how he dealt in a very real way with the ugly violence that gripped his country, and yet, he still saw the world through a dreamer’s eyes. He treasured looking through his telescope at the constellations. He felt such a connection with them. Standing next to him under the night sky, I felt as if I was in another world too. It is that world which I felt more than saw that I try capture in my stories.

If I had to pick a writer whose style has most influenced me, it would be Alice Hoffman.

14. If you had to ‘re-encounter’ what or who will you choose to help Humanity with?

Another great question! I’m sure there are other people and situations that I could list, but this was truly the first one that popped into my head, so I think I should go with it. Jim Croce was an American musician whose height of popularity was in the early 1970s. In fact, I remember being five-years old, and wanting to marry him! Jim tragically died in a plan crash in 1973.

Jim was from a poor, working class family. He learned to play blues guitar from an African-American neighbor. Jim’s music was about the essence of life; our daily struggles to get by, to find the humor in life, even when times are tough, to find and honor love, and to touch as many people as we can with our gifts.

"I'm no missionary," says Jim Croce about his songs, "and I can't wear any armor, either. I just gotta be the way I am."

Living his life according to that creed, Jim and his music touched millions of people. He still does today, decades after his death. In a selfish way, I’d like to re-encounter Jim Croce, spend time with him. Learn his unique way of looking at the world, his humility, humanity and of course his love and talent for music. I’m sure that would make me a better person, and in turn I could offer more to humanity.

15. When you are not writing, what else do you enjoy doing?

Playing with my dog, listening to music, singing, spending time with friends. I am very silly. I take great pleasure in giggling and making others laugh along with me. Unfortunately, I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I also love sampling all that is chocolate, rich and creamy!

16. Please share links to your books

Steve Prefontaine Rocketman

Mercy

Both can be found at: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/breetdonovan, amazon.com, barnsandnoble.com

Various short stories can be found at: http://www.ireland-information.com

Short Story: Before the Fountain fromStereo Opticon: Fairy Tales in Split Vision, Drollerie Press can be found at: www.goodreads.com, amazon.com

The Girl From Belfast City-Short Story can be found at: SQ Magazine Fall/Winter 2010-2011 www.ifwgpublishing.com

Thank you very much for coming on Center Stage.

Thank you for inviting me! J

BEFORE GRANDMA DIED

She stood in front of the mirror and gave herself a hard look. She searched the old face not particularly shocked with the amount of gray that had increased from the last time she actually looked at herself this way. She noted the crease between her mouth and her chin. The skin was beginning to give way. It had been some six months now and she was expecting to see a difference. Maybe it  should be my teeth she thought and she bared them for close inspection. No signs of fangs yet. It still looked old, decaying and yes one tooth less from years ago when he had punched her in the face.

How was she to look now? Tears formed like dark pools in the tired eyes and the silence around her was deafening. She went through the routine again, a routine that had become some kind of ritual. Her phone was one of the routine. She did a ritual with it every morning after the inspection, since the day she died within. The day when she watched in horror, aghast as her heart was stabbed and love bled out of her.

In the deafening silence, she felt the blows again and again. The horrible pronouncement as she descended deep into an abyss and darkness enveloped her, when her daughter screamed the terrible words.

“You frigging bloody witch”. In her tribe and tradition it was the heaviest indictment a woman can receive.

The knife twisted again and the world stopped breathing. From a distance as the blood flowed, she did not feel the blows again even as she heard the words pounding away at her heart and tearing it into shreds.

The pronouncement had been made in the open, in full hearing of anyone passing (they were two women who stood and stared), then oh yes there was her neighbor who lived in the next flat, (they hardly ever talked) she also stood and stared.

Disgrace and pronouncement complete oh she remembered just in time it was her housekeeper’s day so she had listened and even had helped to prise them apart.

“You frigging bloody witch.”

She died.

Six months later still in the dark tomb of unending misery and bleeding, she stood and stared at the mirror each morning. She had formed the habit of having three baths every morning, one in the afternoon and two at night. She slept alone, wrapped like a cocoon by the warm misery and the tears. She inspected her teeth every morning as she wanted to be the first to notice the fangs. She remembered that witches were expected to have birds in their stomach so she ate sparingly hoping to starve whatever bird was in her stomach and kept away from anyone in case they heard her rumbling stomach.

She also stared at her phone. It had not rang for six months. She always bought phone credits and played the reunion back in her mind. How long the conversation was going to be.

She remembered also the silent walks she made at night so no one will see her. Nobody should see her silent vigil along the road to her daughter’s house, as she watched the lights, heard the laughter of her grandchildren. She particularly missed her granddaughter. Her cheerful smile,  warmth as she nestled close showing the stories she had written at school. Her heart started bleeding again and she sighed. Worse was to come as she moved away from the mirror remembering the dark night when she had reached her guard post and saw the place completely dark. No lights, no voices and the windows were bare as the wind screamed a mockery “You bloody frigging witch”.

She was bathed in icy cold terror throughout the night.

A neighbor told her that the occupants had moved during the day. She staggered home, tired exhausted, too tired to even inspect the pain. She spent the whole day staring at the phone willing it to ring and she prayed for release from the pain.

She prayed for release to walk away from a daughter she had brought alone into the world, had watched over, slaved to send to school and who one day six months ago had beaten her and called her a witch. In a small whisper from dried up throat she had kept asking why. “Because I asked when you will return money you took from me?”

She had waited all these months for the terrible words to be retracted, an explanation that the beating and denouncement had been a momentary madness? dreaded the visit of the elders if they should ask her to visit the palace and lived terrified by the glances of friends and neighbours alike.

“You bloody frigging witch”

She was too terrified by the pronouncement to even ask why, for in all her nightmares she had only been guilty of love.

Then the phone rang endlessly for a long time. We opened the door.

Grandma was dead.

Are Diamonds forever?

                                    ARE DIAMONDS FOREVER?

He said I will love you forever

Stars in her eyes

She danced to the rhythm

Are diamonds forever?

He said

I will take you to the stars

And build you castles of gold

She lived amongst the finery

Of his skilful words

Now tis past the witching hour

The birds roost

The moon silvers

Her lonely watch

She heard his

Drunken shuffle home

Her tears as bright

As the diamonds

He said are forever

The bills pile

And mock the

Promise of furs

Unqualified she waits

On his labourer’s wage

On the highway of wealth

They had in foolish passion

Detoured into the pits of poverty

Sulks and silences

Hunger and hate

Pain and worry

Becomes the fruits

Of their haste

To eat unripe

The gifts of life

The silent screams

Thunders through

And mocks at them

Are diamonds forever?

Will love last the day?

When kisses are not worth

The word of the lover?

Tell me child

Are diamonds forever

When your tomorrow

Is now slave to the

Errors of a hasty yesterday?