Virtual launch party for the release of my novel "The Mark of the Storm" in France today!

IN ENGLISH

VERSION FRANÇAISE ICI

WELCOME to Marwen's world!

At the dawn of World War II, on Enez Disrann, the island of disappearances, ancient legends, ferocious storms and dark mysteries ...

To mark the release of my novel The Mark of the Storm today in France (yay!), I interrupt my work on my second volume to invite you to join me on this page of celebration.

A big thank you for your visit, and I sincerely hope that my story will be translated into English. It is available in France from today in all good bookshops and online at the usual addresses. It may become available in French on Amazon UK (my publisher is looking into it). 

So watch this space, dear English speaking friends, I'll keep you posted!

Here is the cover that represents so well the mysterious mood of the book:

Here's my publisher's friendly and passionate team, the great "Galodé Team"!

Here is a short extract from the book (a draft translation) just to give you a wee taster:

Marwen was shivering. Although her wet clothes made her cold, it was mainly because her nerves were relaxing after being stretched to their limit. If she could, she would have huddled in a corner and slept a moment to recover. But she did not allow herself this indulgence. She had escaped from the flooded well but still had to find a way out of the tunnels and try to save Anaïk. She absolutely could not let herself go.

Painfully, she stood up. When she touched it, she felt her knee had bled again since her last fall. The handkerchief around it was saturated with blood but she had nothing to replace it with. Galvanized by her fear for her sister, and by the feeling of having a job to do, she no longer felt the pain as much as before.

The small lights sprang up in front of her indicating the way forward, as if they suddenly recognized where they were. The Manac'h was still floating by her side, dull, faithful and indifferent.

Marwen did not feel very stable on her legs. She leant against the wall for a moment before following the lights. The gallery was long. Contrary to the well, it seemed to have been carved in the rock by men. This reassured Marwen. If people had built this passage, there should be a way out.

At last she saw an archway down the corridor. The lights disappeared through it and rushed into the next chamber. Marwen found herself in the dark.

A bright spot appeared in the distance. It came up to her at a tremendous speed and stopped before her just in front of her face. She recognized the six-pointed star that she had not seen for months, except in her dreams.

The shining star began to turn on itself and Marwen was seized with a giddiness that had nothing to do with altitude or fear. Then the star vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Marwen staggered, shocked by the contrast between darkness and light. She closed her eyes. Light spots floated for a moment under her eyelids before disappearing. When she opened her eyes again, she knew she had lost her sight. It was not only that she was in the dark but that deep inside herself she knew she’d become blind.

A terrible fear engulfed her. She had been warned by her father never to look too long at the sun.

"Even during an eclipse," he had said, "you can be blinded by sunlight. Man is made for medium experiences. For medium sound frequencies, average brightness and average temperatures. We are creatures of the middle and yet we still believe ourselves superior to other species."

Marwen had not looked into the sun but had stared at a supernatural star. The result was the same. Her eyes were burned by the star as were Michael Strogoff’s, in the Jules Verne novel, by a white-hot sword.

Terrifying thoughts jostled in her head. Was the star the reason why Maïa the witch had become blind? Was it the price to pay for the gift of second sight? Or was it the branding with which the forest marked its servants, as the thunderstorm branded his own with a three line mark on their skin?

Marwen's heart was pounding. In the Bible there was mention of the mark of the Devil. But nothing about the mark of the Lord. She moved forward, holding the wall to compensate for the loss of her sight.

"What does it mean?" she shouted to the solitude of the corridor. "Does it even make sense?"

Scarcely had she spoken that an echo came back.

"Sense.. sense ... sssseeeeennnnssse ..."

Marwen shuddered and stumbled on a shallow downward step. She only just managed to regain her balance and began to grope blindly around her. But she felt nothing. There was no light, no sounds, no walls. Nothing.

"Tell me what to do," she cried in a vacuum. "I don’t understand anything!"

At these words, her sight returned as instantly as it had been brutally removed. What she discovered around her was nothing short of extraordinary.

And finally for those of you who have not yet seen it – and for those who want to see it again! - the book trailer (with music by Westwind – a very talented fellow Breton):

So to all of you WELCOME to Marwen's world, on her island, Enez Disrann, the island of disappearances, ancient legends, ferocious storms and great mysteries ...