Book Extract: The Italian Couple by J. R. Rogers

When I was contacted recently by J. R. Rogers about reading and reviewing his historical fiction novel, The Italian Couple, I was immediately attracted by the unusual setting – Eritrea – and the period in which the book is set – just before the beginning of the Second World War.

Unfortunately, given the size of my author review pile, it’s going to be several months (let’s be honest, possibly quite a lot longer than that) before I can read it.  In the meantime, I’m delighted to bring you an extract from the book.

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The Italian CoupleAbout the Book

Colonel Francesco Ferrazza, a disciplined and inflexible Royal Italian Army officer with Italy’s Fascist Military Information Service, and his attractive British wife, Emilia, are posted to Asmara affectionately referred to as ‘Little Rome’ by Mussolini.

He is astonished when, in 1938, he is ordered by his Rome superior to set in motion an unusual but clandestine sabotage operation of the engineering marvel that is the Asmara-Massawa cableway that links Italian Eritrea to the sea.  Built by the Italians it is the longest aerial line of its kind in the world but it is of such strategic importance the army comes to realize they may have made a mistake in constructing it. They fear it could fall into the hands of neighbouring Ethiopia whom they defeated in a colonial war just two years ago.

Ferrazza sets out to find someone to carry out Operation Red Lion and meets Mario Caparrotti, an amateur race car driver and cableway mechanic who has unfettered access to the engine room. The colonel entices him with his wife and the reluctant Emilia unhappily plays her part by becoming Caparrotti’s lover.

Unexpectedly, Gyles Aiscroft, a Rome-based British freelance foreign correspondent, and an old family friend of Emilia’s parents arrives in Asmara.  Emilia finds herself drawn to him and confides her plight to him.

As the clock counts down the final hours, the colonel belatedly begins to grasp that in ‘Little Rome’ nothing is what it seems, no one can be trusted and, when serving Mussolini, failure will never be condoned.

Format: ebook (434 pp.)                    Publisher: n/a
Published: 11th April 2018                 Genre: Historical Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk  ǀ  Amazon.com
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find The Italian Couple on Goodreads


Extract: The Italian Couple by J. R. Rogers

(Gyles Aiscroft arrives in Asmara – first impressions)

“Now, tell me,” he said waving at the window. “We’re almost there. What do you think? Is it to your liking? Have a look. Go on. Tell me.”

They had arrived in town and the driver of the Fiat bus – its engine wheezing and the gears crashing – was beginning a wide slow turn onto the Viale Roma. The name of the street was on a metal nameplate affixed to the wall of a building on the corner. Viale Roma was an important street with dusty palms spaced at even intervals aligned on either side. They drove up one short block after another, the bus plodding through the congestion of anxious automobiles, the shouting drivers honking their horns. Facing either side of the street was a run of low, whitewashed ochre-colored buildings with common walls and walking past was a mélange of unhurried Italians wearing Western clothes and sunglasses crowding the sidewalks. The native people, who looked out of place, wore long, drab-looking ankle length attires while the women wrapped their heads and shoulders in shawls. Aiscroft noticed at one point how, as they drove past a prominent three-story building, the sidewalk was cast in shadows and how the pedestrians passing into the gloom reappeared shortly blinking into the bright African sun.

Many of the establishments – their Italian names painted in bright contrasting colors over the entrances – fronted outdoor cafes where patrons sat contentedly beneath tan umbrellas at little round tables sipping coffee from small white cups. Aiscroft decided it looked as if it all had been transplanted from somewhere in southern Italy. It seemed to him, in the orderly way in which it was all laid out, that it was some planner’s vision of how a small and proper Italian town should look. And the reminiscent architecture and mixture of European and indigenous peoples mingling in the street brought to mind Benghazi and Tripoli where a similar Italian presence had transformed those places as well.

A moment later the driver pulled to the curb. They had arrived at the airline’s ticket office. He looked over his shoulder. “Biglietteria,” – ticket office, he called out turning off the noisy engine and as the bus shuddered to a silence everyone got to their feet, and formed a single impatient line between the rows of narrow bench seats.

Paola, Chef Modici’s short, attractive, and much younger wife, was animated at his return, and rushed to her husband as he stepped down from the bus. With a wide brim white hat, long thick dark hair splayed across her shoulders, and her face carefully made up, she wore a fetching black and white sleeveless dress and held her sunglasses down at her side. The chef kissed her hurriedly and unemotionally on the cheek, and gave her a quick embrace before pulling away.

In a throaty sensual voice that surprised Aiscroft, she asked. “How was your trip, darling? Were you unhappy without me?” Uncertain, she smiled. “I missed you.”

He laughed at her. “Of course I was unhappy,” he chortled – “miserable, in fact.”

“And Emilio? How’s he? You two got along? No arguments this time?”

“No but Emilio never changes. Still it’s good to see him, if only twice a year.”

“He’s your brother, you should.”

“Sometimes I wonder. I was thinking on the plane coming home. He can’t be bothered to visit us in Asmara,” he said in a huff. “So it’s me that has to take the time and spend the money and go up there and stay at that damn hotel if I want to see him. I can’t even stay with him because his wife’s always sick.”

“It was your decision, Gino. Don’t go again, if you don’t want to. Maybe he’ll come here next time.”

“I’ll wait forever,” he grumbled.

“He’ll always be your brother, darling,” she said reaching to stroke his arm. “No matter where he lives. Maybe next time call him instead of flying all that way.” She dropped her arm and turned to look unabashedly at Aiscroft. “Gino?” she asked. “Who is this gentleman with you?” She smiled at Aiscroft and gave him a look that was equal parts sympathy and interest. “He’s been standing there so patiently waiting for…”

“Ah, yes,” he said jerking around to Aiscroft. “My apologies.”

“Quite all right.”

“Paola,” he said to her, as if about to read a proclamation, “this is Mister Aiscroft, a reporter from Rome. He’s an Englishman. This is my wife, Paola,” he told Aiscroft nodding at her.

Paola slid her sunglasses on, bathed him in a wider smile, and limply extended her hand. “Welcome, Mister Aiscroft, so nice to meet you. I was wondering when Gino might tell me who you were.”

The sidewalk was becoming congested with luggage and passengers ready to board the bus to the airport, so they crossed the street. The avenue was clouded with exhaust, as they dodged the two lines of traffic and steered clear of the ever-present boys leading strings of indifferent camels and donkeys. Modici headed unerringly toward his gleaming maroon Lancia Augusta Berlina parked at the curb while mentioning to Paola they would be giving their guest a ride to his hotel.

“Where are you staying, Mister Aiscroft?” she asked looking at him closely as they stood alongside the car while Modici scrutinized the sheet metal for any signs of damage his wife might have caused in his absence.

“The Colonia,” called out Modici overhearing her question. Satisfied with his inspection he pulled open the passenger door for Paola. “Get in,” he said impatiently. “I have to go to the restaurant.”

“Lovely hotel,” Paola told Aiscroft before ducking into the car. “The best in Asmara. Did Gino tell you about it? You should be comfortable there,” she said.

“Yes, Paola, I told him. He’s already booked there,” said Modici slamming her door shut. “Now, my friend,” he said frowning at Aiscroft behind his sunglasses. “We should go. I have a busy day ahead of me.”


J R RogersAbout the Author

J.R.ROGERS writes historical thrillers. He is the author of seven books and also a collection of short stories. His stories have appeared in Steam Ticket, TrainWrite, The Legendary, TRC, The Copperfield Review, Outside In Literary and Travel Magazine, River & South Review and Driftwood Press.  His latest novel is The Italian Couple.

Besides writing his interests include art, culture, indie film, LGBTQIA, photography and world travel. He lives in southern California.

Connect with J. R.

Website  ǀ  Twitter  ǀ  Goodreads

Blog Tour/Book Review: Call of the Curlew by Elizabeth Brooks

Along with my tour buddy, Novels and NonFiction, I’m delighted to be hosting today’s stop on the blog tour for Call of the Curlew by Elizabeth Brooks.  Many thanks to Anne at Random Things Tours for inviting me to join the tour and for Hannah Bright at Doubleday for my review copy.  You can read my review of this haunting and atmospheric book below.

Do check out the tour banner at the bottom of this post to see the other great book bloggers taking part in the tour.


Call of the CurlewAbout the Book

Virginia Wrathmell has always known she will meet her death on the marsh.

It’s New Year’s Eve 2015 and eighty-six year old Virginia Wrathmell feels like the end is upon her. As she looks out on the dark and desolate marshes that surround the house she’s lived in since she was young, Virginia is overcome with the memories of one winter that have stayed with her since childhood.

It’s New Year’s Eve 1939 and Virginia is eleven, an orphan arriving to meet her new parents at their mysterious house, Salt Winds, on the edge of a vast marsh. War feels far away out here amongst the birds and shifting sands – until the day a German fighter plane crashes into the marsh. The people at Salt Winds are the only ones to see it.

When her adopted father goes missing, and a mysterious stranger arrives in his place, Salt Winds becomes a very dangerous place to be. Virginia’s failure to protect the house’s secrets will leave her spending a lifetime dealing with the aftermath.

“The wind has dropped, but every now and then a gust will shiver in from the sea, carrying some fragment – a feather, a straw, a grain of sand, the scent of snow, the dainty bone of a bird – by way of an offering to the house.”

From the author:

“The location, Tollbury Marsh, came to me first, the story second. The marsh is a place on the edge of normal life, which seems flat and accessible to the uninitiated, but is actually full of dangers. I wanted to capture the strong and pervasive sense of place that I felt when reading The Woman in Black and Great Expectations.”

Format: Hardcover, ebook (320 pp.)    Publisher: Doubleday
Published: 28th June 2018                      Genre: Historical Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk  ǀ  Amazon.com  ǀ Hive.co.uk (supporting UK bookshops)
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find Call of the Curlew on Goodreads


My Review

Somehow it doesn’t seem quite right that I’ve been reading Call of the Curlew sitting in my garden in the bright sunshine.  The atmosphere of the book is such that it seems more suited to misty autumn nights, with the rain lashing down outside and the wind rattling the window panes.  Throw in some creaking floorboards, some footsteps in the attic and your reading experience would be complete.

Told in chapters that alternate between 2015 and the early years of the Second World War, Call of the Curlew has a haunting, mysterious quality.  Salt Winds, the old house at which orphan Virginia arrives in 1939 to join her adoptive parents, Lorna and Clem, occupies an isolated position on the marshes at the end of a long lane.

The author really gets inside the mind of ten-year old Virginia.  Initially, she’s concerned that she might be a disappointment to Lorna and Clem and be sent back to the orphanage (although she doesn’t think they do sale and return).  Virginia doesn’t understand everything she sees and hears in the house but she’s sensitive to the tension she detects between Lorna and Clem.  ‘Virginia liked it when they discussed everyday things: pots of tea and food prices and what needed doing in the garden.  It made them sound peaceful and close.  Anything bigger or more personal and they were on edge, like a couple of cats.’  Underlying everything, there’s an air of mystery, of secrets and things that can’t be spoken about.

Virginia also has a child’s literal interpretation of Clem’s warnings about the perils of setting foot on the marsh and the dangers that wait because of the shifting tides.  Virginia forms a touching relationship with Clem who seems better able to communicate with a child than Lorna.  Virginia’s relationship with Lorna is strained; Lorna always remains slightly distant and less openly affectionate.  Virginia has also acquired an acute sense of how to deal with certain situations: ‘Shutting up was almost always a clever move, she’d discovered, not just with Clem but with everyone.  People rarely object to a quiet child.’

From the very first time, Max Deering, a childhood friend of Clem, visits Salt Winds, ten-year old Virginia takes an instinctive dislike to him, sensing something unsettling about him she can’t put into words.  Her view of Max can’t help but affect the reader’s view of him, especially as the manner of his arrivals at the house conjured up thoughts for me of Mrs Danvers gliding in and out of shot in Hitchcock’s film version of Rebecca.  Virginia muses: ‘It was difficult to explain the car’s pull on her imagination – not without sounding silly – but there was something about its predatory grace that made it seem like a living thing.  The lane from Tollbury Point to Salt Winds was pitted with holes and bumps, but Mr Deering’s Austin 12 never seemed to mind. It just glided forwards, silent and slow, the way a shark glides over the ocean floor.’ 

I loved the author’s evocative, imaginative descriptions and eye for the smallest details when depicting a scene.   For example, as Virginia makes meticulous plans in response to what she believes is the sign she’s been waiting for, ‘She pictures the house, room by room, and plots the route of her farewell tour, mentally circling certain parts and crossing others out.’    Don’t you just love the idea of the ‘farewell tour’.  Or this description of the kitchen table: ‘The old tabletop rolled between them like a parchment map, grainy with longitude lines and knotty islands and uncharted territories.’  I can almost feel that under my fingers.

As the book progresses, it becomes apparent that some sort of tragedy occurred at Salt Winds which has haunted Virginia for the rest of her life and for which she feels, justifiably or not, responsible and for which she is convinced she will someday be called to make amends.  The enjoyment for the reader is finding out exactly the nature of the tragic event and the consequences that follow.

I thought the book was fabulous.  To my mind, in Call of the Curlew, Elizabeth Brooks gives Susan Hill (think The Woman in Black) and Sarah Waters (think The Little Stranger) a run for their money when it comes to creating a creepy, unsettling atmosphere.  I was also reminded at times of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, and there is no higher praise in my book (pardon the pun).

I received a review copy courtesy of publishers, Doubleday, and Random Things Tours, in return for an honest and unbiased review.  Call of the Curlew is one of my 20 Books of Summer.

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In three words: Spooky, atmospheric, haunting

Try something similar…The Vanishing of Audrey Wilde by Eve Chase (read my review here)


Elizabeth BrooksAbout the Author

ELIZABETH BROOKS grew up in Chester, and read Classics at Cambridge. She lives on the Isle of Man with her husband and children.

Elizabeth describes herself as a “Brontë nerd”.  Call of the Curlew is her homage to the immersive and evocative writing of Charlotte Brontë.

Connect with Elizabeth

Website  ǀ Twitter  ǀ Goodreads

Call of the Curlew Blog Tour Poster