Well, we’re just back from a week in Sicily, where we lay on the beach, ate a lot of fish and drank the occasional Negroni. I also scribbled an outline for a projected future novel and managed to find time to catch up on my reading.

So here we are :-

I’ve recently been revisiting Eric Ambler for the first time in many years, and “The Mask of Dimitrios” is generally reckoned to be his masterpiece. And rightly so. Ambler was an absolute master of the early spy thriller; he writes convincingly about place, his historical accuracy – at least as far as I can tell – is top-notch, his characters are well-drawn and his dialogue crackles. Above all else, there’s a thoroughly European feel to Ambler – he never resorts to the cheap stereotype of the funny or sinister foreigner. These feel like real people struggling to make their way in a chaotic post-war Europe. Highly recommended

Giorgio Scerbanenco was an Italian writer who turned to crime (if you see what I mean) after a long career writing everything from westerns to science fiction to romance. He died in Milan in 1969 at the age of just 58, during his period of greatest success. Sometimes referred to as “an Italian Simenon”, his most famous works are probably the Duca Lamberti series, following the adventures of a physician who turns to detective work after having been struck off for performing a mercy killing. I read the first book in the series, “Venere Privata” last year, and enjoyed it enough to give “Traditori di Tutti” (Betrayers of All) a go. He’s a good writer, there’s no denying that. The problem I’m having with the series is the sheer, remorseless cruelty that veers into outright sadism, made all the worse by the matter-of-fact prose. Any chapter that begins with a description of the workings of a band saw in a butcher’s shop is not going to end well. Scerbanenco was, by all accounts, a shy and gentle man, scarred by the trauma of fleeing the Ukraine as a boy and the hardships of his early years. I think I’ll continue with the series but, as I said, I find the clinical descriptions of violence a bit difficult. Maybe I’m just getting old.

Piero Trellini‘s “La Partita” recounts, in absolutely forensic detail, the epic Italy – Brazil game from the 1982 World Cup. It weighs in at a wrist-breaking 600 pages but, surely, if any game deserves covering in this depth, this one does. Having drawn against reigning World champions Argentina, an unfancied Italian side featuring, in Paolo Rossi, a striker only recently returned from a two-year ban following a betting scandal, beat perhaps the greatest Brazilian team of all time in a performance that in terms of sheer bloody-minded iron-willed determination can only be described as absolutely heroic. The greatest game of all time? Perhaps. (I’d also make a case for Swansea City’s win over Bradford City in the 2013 League Cup Final, but I accept I might be in the minority.)

Finally, and rather wonderfully, I came across a second-hand copy of Simon Raven’s Doctors Wear Scarlet in a tabacchi in Aci Trezza where I was buying bus tickets. I must say I prefer Raven’s original title to the rather over-literal Italian one of Il morso sul collo (“The bite on the neck”). The book was one of Raven’s earliest, before he set out on his epic “Alms for Oblivion” series, which is what he’s mainly remembered for. I’m glad he’s still read, and even more so that he’s read in translation. Incidentally, Doctors Wear Scarlet was filmed in the early 1970s as a low-budget horror called Incense for the Damned. It’s not completely without interest – it is, as far as I know, the only film to feature a donkey chase and Peter Cushing turns up for five minutes to add a bit of class – but, by any objective standard, it really isn’t very good.

So there we go. Elsewhere, things are now moving towards publication of Nathan Sutherland Book 4. We have a cover at last but…I’m not going to show you that just yet. Watch this space!

There is just one tray of sarde spinate (boned and butterflied sardines) left in the fishmonger’s. The woman next to me is eyeing them up as well, and she’s next in line. However, she makes a fatal mistake and orders some gamberi first, leaving me to strike like a Ninja and grab the last of the sardines. I immediately, of course, feel guilty and offer to give them to her, but she’s being very nice and won’t hear of it.

I’ve stuffed a few sardines in my time, but the idea tonight is to cook my variation on beccafico, the Sicilian dish which basically consists of a dish of baked stuffed and rolled sardines.

So here we go.

Ingredients (for two)

15 boned and butterflied sardines (a strange number, perhaps, but that’s what they had the shop)
100g bread
15g pine nuts
15g sultanas
15g capers

2 cloves of garlic

1 orange

Some tomatoes, basil and olive oil

Method

1. A friend of ours has left us a nice bottle of gin, so it’s a G&T night instead of a Spritz night
2. Blitz the bread into crumbs in a food processor or similar
3. Dry fry the pine nuts for perhaps one minute, and then chop with the sultanas, capers and garlic. Add the zest of the orange.
4. Add the chopped ingredients to the breadcrumbs and squeeze over the orange juice.
5. Spoon out the breadcrumb mix along the middle of each sardine, and roll them up so that the tail is pointing upwards. The idea is that you construct a dish where the upward-pointing tails resemble birds’ beaks.
6. Place the rolled-up sardines in a prepared baking dish. They should, ideally, fit quite snugly. Intersperse a few bay leaves here and there, if there’s room. Drizzle with oil, scatter with some more of the breadcrumb mix, and put in a 200  C oven for 10 minutes.
7. You will realise at this point that you have made twice as much stuffing as necessary! This is obviously a good thing, as you can freeze the remainder and save it for a quick dinner on another night. This calls for a prosecco!
8. In the meantime, prepare a basic tomato salad. It doesn’t have to be a tomato salad, but, in all honesty, there are no other vegetables left in the fridge. Our hearts, we know, are not really that interested in this. But we’re going to do it anyway : small tomatoes, torn basil, olive oil and a sprinkling of salt. You know the sort of thing.

I cooked this to J C Bach’s La Clemenza di Scipione. I’ve never heard this before but I really enjoyed it.

Happy cooking and eating!

The best sardines I have ever eaten were at Al Gatto Nero on Burano. I’ve only been there twice. On both occasions I had sardines. They were that good. A great big plate piled with charred and crispy fish. They are one of those things that go on my list of “things I could just go on eating even if I don’t feel like eating anything at all”.

So it’s Saturday, and I’m buying fish. It’s early in the morning, but nearly all the sardines have gone. There might be eight or nine left, but that is not going to hit the spot.  I want that plate piled high with crispy small fish. There is, however, a huge pile of anchovies. Now, these are not the same fish at all (they are not even the same genus). But they’re small, and I’m pretty sure they’ll crisp up nicely, and so I leave with half a kilo.

So here’s my recipe for anchovies with roasted tomatoes (serves 2).

Ingredients

500g fresh anchovies (try and make sure they’re a good size, 4 – 6 inches. It makes both cleaning and eating easier)

15 – 20 small-ish tomatoes (I used the Italian “Piccadilly” variety). Not too big, but neither do you want cherry size.

3 cloves of garlic ; Because I had three cloves of garlic

2 sprigs of thyme

Some good olive oil, a few slices of bread, and a lemon.

Method

Make a brace of spritzes (as always)

Halve the tomatoes, and put in a roasting dish. Scatter with the finely chopped garlic and the thyme leaves. Drizzle with olive oil and give them a good mix together. Add salt if you think it’s needed (I didn’t). Put in the oven at 160 centigrade / Gas Mark 3 for about an hour. This isn’t a recipe where we necessarily want blackened and charred tomatoes, but we do want the flavours to be sufficiently concentrated.

Gut and wash the anchovies. This is not a lovely job, but – obviously – it has to be done. Run your thumb along the belly of the fish, scoop out the unpleasant bits and discard. It’s not a great job, but it’s something to do whilst the tomatoes are roasting.

Wash your hands. Drink the spritz. Congratulate yourself on a job well done. You perhaps deserve a prosecco at this point.

Line a baking tray with foil and smear a little olive oil on it. There’s plenty of natural oil in the fish, but why take chances? You don’t want them sticking.

Pat the anchovies dry with kitchen towel as best you can before lining them up on the baking tray. Now, patting oily fish dry is, perhaps, an unrewarding task at best, but you want the fish to char not steam. Which means getting them as dry as possible before they go under the grill.

Your tomatoes should be just ever so slightly blackened after an hour. I thought about adding a slug of balsamic vinegar but decided against it. The thyme leaves and the caramelised garlic will add plenty of flavour as it is.

Whack the grill up to maximum. When it’s fully heated, give the anchovies two minutes; then turn them over and give them the same again. You want that skin to be slightly charred and as crisp as possible. Or, at least, I do.

I served them piled up on a single plate, alongside the tomatoes, with copious amounts of chilled red wine (hey, it’s July) and some bread to take the edge off any bones that remain. How you eat them is entirely up to you. Squeeze over some lemon and add some good olive oil if you wish. A sprinkling of sea salt will add flavour and a little crunch as well. Whatever. I am pretty sure I could have eaten the same amount again.

I cooked this to the opening scenes of Philip Glass’s “Akhnaten”. Minimalist music is good for the rather laborious process of gutting and cleaning small fish. RAI 3 treated us to the Tchaikovsky piano concerto for the actual business of eating them.

Happy cooking and eating!

 

 

 

Caroline looks at me with the expression of one who has made a proper effort at dressing up whilst her hubby has, well, not. The words ‘Couldn’t you have made a bit more effort?’ hang in the air, unsaid.

It’s Saturday afternoon, the skies are mercifully clear after weeks of near-incessant rain and it’s the unofficial Italian launch of “To Venice With Love” and “The Venetian Masquerade”. I’m wearing my usual gear – black DMs, black jeans, black T-shirt and blue jacket (it looked blacker in the shop). I think I look quite the chap. Caroline is less convinced.

‘Couldn’t you find something else? That’s what you wear when you’re teaching.’

‘Yeah, but I look good when I’m teaching,’ I reply. Caroline, disappointingly, looks just a little bit doubtful.

‘What about your green jacket?’

‘Can’t do that. I’ll look like a leghista.’

‘You won’t look like a leghista.’

‘I will. It’s the European elections tomorrow. If people see a guy in a green jacket holding forth to an audience they’re going to think it’s a fascist rally or something.’

‘They won’t.’

‘They will. Blue jacket is fine. Really it is.’ I give her my best I-shall-not-be-moved stare.

She holds my gaze.

She has properly dressed up for this. People have come from Scotland for this. Hell, people have come from Australia for this.

Oh hell.

‘Give me five minutes,’ I say and start peeling my jacket off.

—–

I join her in the campo five minutes later. Guests are already starting to arrive. One of them walks up to me.

‘Nice jacket!’

I smiled and nod. I look over his shoulder towards Caroline.

She smiles. And the words ‘I told you so,’ are, mercifully, unsaid.

Now this one really was a bit different. First of all there’s more classical (as you might expect), and fewer songs are name checked in the book itself. But music had a profound impact on my writing process, in that, for the first time, I made a point of consciously listening to different soundtracks to try and put myself  in the right frame of mind. I listened to a lot of Monteverdi in the Marciana library and, obviously, other classical pieces were important either as mood or as an integral part of the story.

I listened to a lot of Goblin / Claudio Simonetti whilst writing action/suspense scenes. The Alan Parsons’ Project track appears as I really did walk past a pianist playing “Eye in the Sky” in Piazza San Marco upon leaving the Marciana.

Pink Floyd are not present, for the first time. Hawkwind are, of course. Indeed, my initial title for the book was “Choose Your Masques”. My publisher, rightly, insisted that the words “Venice” or “Venetian” needed to be there!

I won’t say any more as the book has only just been published but compiling this playlist made me realise that, actually, this one really does serve as a genuine soundtrack to the novel.

Happy listening / Buon ascolto

The Venetian Masquerade – Soundtrack

On then to to the soundtrack to book 2, “Vengeance in Venice”.

The playlist opens in suitably Venetian style with the overture to Vivaldi’s “Juditha Triumphans” which – as I hope you know by now – is important to the plot. In comparison with “Venetian Game”, there are fewer songs that actually appear in the book, but a number of them were ones that were always kind of hanging around in the back of my mind whilst I was writing. Typically, songs relating to mirrors or glass.

The book has been out for a year, so I hope I’m not revealing any spoilers when I say that the title of Considine’s installation “Seven by Seven by Seven” was – of course – inspired by the Hawkwind track “Seven by Seven”. Similarly, I’m sure many of you guessed where the name of Dario’s baby daughter came from!

“Angels of Death” is by no means my favourite Hawkwind track, but the compilation album of the same name does play an integral part, and so I’ve included it here.

There are two pieces which are important to the story which, unfortunately, do not appear to be on Spotify. The first is David Lee’s soundtrack to the Vincent Price film “The Masque of the Red Death”. Here’s a Youtube clip of the opening/closing credits :-

The Masque of the Red Death

The second is Michael J Lewis’ soundtrack to another Vincent Price film, “Theatre of Blood”. Here, again, are the opening credits.

Theatre of Blood

Both films show Price at the height of his considerable powers, and both – in their music and imagery – had a big influence on “Vengeance”.

One thing that I found a little strange in retrospect is that there is no big number with which to close the story – I honestly didn’t have one in mind. And so this playlist ends in gentler fashion with the Dancing Frenchmen dancing away to Louis Armstrong’s “All of Me” and Chet Baker’s “Let’s Get Lost” (a number which has some sentimental value, as it was our first dance at our wedding. I could, I think, still have a go at a social foxtrot to it).

Buon ascolto!

Vengeance in Venice – Soundtrack

My good friend (and German translator) Birgit Salzmann recently asked me if she could have a playlist for “The Venetian Game”. I have to say, I’d never even thought about this before, but as I looked at putting lists together for the three Nathan Sutherland books, the more interesting the idea became.

As you’ve probably noticed, music plays a big role in all three books. It is, of course, all stuff that I actually listen to. What I hadn’t realised is that they way I use music has actually changed a bit over the course of the series, and that was quite interesting to me.

We’ll start, then, with perhaps the most straightforward list : The Venetian Game. Almost all the tracks here are referenced in the book, and are all things that Nathan or Dario would listen to. It is, perhaps, a bit Pink Floyd-heavy, but all the tracks – in one way or another – are important in the context of either the characters or the story.

There are a few additional tracks not mentioned in the book. “Bandiera Rossa” / “Fischia il Vento” are communist/partisan anthems put in for the benefit of Sergio and Lorenzo. And I added “Games Without Frontiers” to the end as I felt it brought the list to a satisfying conclusion (“If looks could kill, they probably will…”).

My lists for “Vengeance” and “Masquerade” will follow in the next couple of days. In the meantime, happy listening.

The Venetian Game – Soundtrack

Well, okay, “tour” might be pushing it a bit. And there aren’t any T-shirts. But “tour” is what I’m calling it…anyway I’m going to be back in Wales next week for the launch of “The Venetian Masquerade” on April 4th.

The official launch party is at the Taliesin “Create” space at Swansea University at 13.00, on Wednesday April 3rd. Following which, I’ll be talking to the MA Creative Writing students. I’m very proud of this…having made a right old mess of my A-levels, I found a very roundabout route to Swansea University, but at least I got there in the end.

I’m back in Swansea again on the evening of Friday 5th April (18.00), when I’m signing and giving a talk at Swansea Waterstones, one of the loveliest bookshops in the UK and, surely, home to the greatest Twitter account in the bookselling world. (Indeed, I often think my greatest piece of creative writing is the “Sonnet on the Replacement of a Faulty Door at Swansea Waterstones”…if there is sufficient demand I will perform it live on the night).

On the morning of that Friday, I’m being interviewed by the legend that is Roy Noble for his BBC Radio Wales show, which goes out next Sunday, April 7th, at 16.00.

Then, just before we head back to Venice, I’ll be heading over the border to England and signing stock at Waterstones in Epsom – note that this isn’t an official event, and I won’t be giving a talk or anything like that, but if you’re in the area at around 15.00 on Saturday 6th, do drop by and say hello.

And that’s it for now. But if you have a bookshop in South Wales be warned that I will probably drop by and offer to sign stock at some point. I’ve got further events lined up in Italy and Scotland for later this year, but more information on those nearer the time.

In the meantime, despite not officially being out yet, “The Venetian Masquerade” is hovering just outside the Waterstones Top 20 Crime Novels. Fingers crossed we can push it even higher next week. And my continued thanks to you all for all the good wishes received. I love you all!!

 

Moving house in Venice is, as you might imagine, a little more “interesting”, shall we say, than moving house anywhere else. Crouching on the back of a boat, ducking under low bridges, trying to reassure an unhappy cat with one hand and to stop some your worldly possessions being swept into the canal by a low-hanging rosemary bush with the other…yes, it was an experience. Mainly a good one, so here’s a few pictures.

 

 

Well, we’re just about settled now, but some of those sprigs of rosemary survived the journey and I thought I should cook something with them to commemorate the occasion. So here’s a recipe for “Removal Risotto”.

Ingredients

Half a medium sized pumpkin, chopped and deseeded

One onion

One clove of garlic

Small stick of celery

Small handful of pine nuts (or chopped walnuts)

1/2 litre of chicken stock (vegetable will do)

Butter and Parmesan (and a parmesan rind if you’ve got one)

150g risotto rice (I’ll leave the variety up to you)

Salt, pepper, some sage leaves, and – ideally – some rosemary plucked from the overhanging bushes of a canal at the precise moment that the boat containing all your worldly goods passed underneath. Or, if you can’t manage that, some rosemary.

Cooking time

I managed to listen to the entirety of Pink Floyd’s “Meddle” and the first side of “Atom Heart Mother”…so about an hour.

Method

1. Make spritz. You know this by now. Set this to one side, but not for too long.
2. Be careful when chopping up the pumpkin – put a towel under the chopping board, use a good sharp knife and mind those fingers. Put the bits (of pumpkin, I hasten to add) in a roasting tin with a good old slug of olive oil, some chopped rosemary and sage, and season and toss with salt and pepper. Cover with foil and put in an oven at 200C for 30 minutes.
3. In the meantime, make a soffrito with the celery, garlic, pine nuts and onion. Add the rice and let it toast for a bit (I’m convinced this really does make a difference).
4. Throw in some vermouth (we didn’t have any so it had to be white wine) and let it sizzle. Then start adding stock and make the risotto in the usual way. At this point I threw in a parmesan rind. I think it added a little savouriness, so – if you have one to hand – I think it’s worth doing.
5. Cook until the risotto is just about done, stir in the roasted pumpkin, mantecare with some chilled butter and grated parmesan, take it off the heat and cover for two minutes. Then give it a good old stir and serve, with plenty of red wine on the side.
6. Just a thought but – a teaspoon of chestnut honey works really well with this. It has to be chestnut, mind – any other kind will make it far too sweet. But that sweet/savoury bitterness of  a chestnut honey will work really well to balance the sweetness of the pumpkin.

So there we go. I’m sure there were more interesting things that could have been done with the sprigs we salvaged, but this is now my “Removal Risotto.”

We’re settling in here. Most things are out of boxes now, we’re meeting people in the area and, I hope, are starting to make friends. Mimi found it a bit distressing at first – she’s not the best of travellers – but she’s settling down now and appreciates having more space for me to throw balls in.

And with that, it’s goodnight from me, and it’s goodnight from Mimì (who, like me, has never had a dishwasher before and is keen to investigate it…)

 

 

 

So, as some of you will know, I’ve just received my author copies of “To Venice With Love.” It’s my first time in trade paperback size, and I think it looks wonderful.

A few words then, on what has changed since “The Venice Project”. Well, the new version brings the story up to date, and has been professionally edited and produced. There’s more background to the story and as to how Caroline and I ended up where we were, a lot of material has been rewritten and about a third of it is completely new. If”The Venice Project” was the rough sketch, “To Venice…” is what I was aiming towards, and what the original book, perhaps, should have been. If nothing else, the new edition has a proper narrative to it instead of feeling like a disparate collection of articles. Don’t get me wrong, I think there’s a charm to “The Venice Project” – if nothing else, it’s absolutely honest – and I’m very grateful to it. But I also hope I’ve learned a few things as a writer since 2013. 

It was interesting and, to be honest, a bit strange to revisit it. After all, the genesis of what I still call “The Project” goes back almost ten years. I suppose we were more than a little naive when we first moved and, yet, here we still are. Caroline is semi-retired, I manage to hold down one-and-a-half jobs (both of which I’m very lucky to have) and, along the way, Mimì joined us for the ride. As I write, we’re surrounded by boxes as we prepare to move house again, and another little adventure begins.

Anyway, initial response to To Venice With Love has been very positive, and very exciting. I’m delighted that Reader’s Digest magazine have made it their non-fiction Book of the Month in their April edition. Readers of the Sunday Times will be able to read an extract (and, gulp, see photos of us both!) in the Home section of the March 3rd edition. And if you’re at a loose end on the morning of Monday 4th, you can tune in to Talk Radio Europe and hear me in conversation with Giles Brown at 10.30 GMT / 11.30 CET.

Thanks to all of you again, and I hope you enjoy the book. As ever, do feel free to get in touch, it’s always a pleasure to hear your thoughts.