I’ve been thinking for some time about starting a podcast called Travel by the Book. The premise is this: I (or one of my writer mates) travel somewhere, and I (or they) read fiction (preferably) or non-fiction (grudgingly) set in or near the travel destination, and the podcast then discusses not only the travel journey, but also the reading journey. Did we fall in love with the setting? How was the place different from the era in which the book was set? Did we notice social change, stunning architecture, a surplus of annoying tourists? How awesome was the food?
First: Amorgos. Why Did I Go?
A cruise of the Greek Islands has been on my bucket list for years, so how could I pass up a writing retreat on one of those iconic islands? Never mind that I’d just sold a house on Vancouver Island, bought a condo in the Vancouver burbs, and moved everything yet again. When I saw Jonas Saul’s Imagine Greece Retreats Facebook post, I was hooked.
“What do you think?” I asked my writer friend. We’d been talking about travelling together, perhaps even hosting our own writer’s retreats. “We should go,” she said. And so it began.
I’d met Jonas Saul in 2018 when he critiqued my first chapter at a Creative Ink blue pencil meeting, while Chris Humphreys, the featured author, lived on a nearby island in British Columbia and belonged to The Creative Academy, as did I. Knowing the presenters, however remotely, made it seem safe. And then there were the photos. Before we even left Canada, Jonas and his charming wife, Greek thriller writer Rania Stone, were answering questions and making us feel at home.
My trip from Vancouver to Toronto to Zurich and finally Athens was a nightmare I hope never to repeat and had nothing to do with them. Story here. Let’s just say, the last night I slept was Sunday in Vancouver, and I arrived at the hotel after midnight Wednesday after spending ten hours on a plane beside a coughing woman.
Athens is a dirty, gritty, glitzy, city, a hot and hectic hodgepodge—beatific faces of gods and heroes, dense clouds of cigarette smoke and diesel fumes, ancient ruins swathed in story and tourists, feeling ever lost and fearful, the sweetest tomatoes ever tasted (what’s with those tomatoes?), making wonderful new friends while searching for benign delicacies in a cluster of cafés, classic relics of an ancient world, sleepless nights where breathing seemed impossible … and then the sea, the port at Amorgos, a mountainous drive of switchbacks, and paradise. Lakki Village.
Lakki Village on Amorgos
I walked into my private room. The balcony doors were wide open, the curtains slow dancing in the salty breeze. After one deep breath, Athen’s smog disappeared. So revitalizing was the air, I left the doors open all night to absorb the golden waxing moon, and there, in the cool darkness, mosquitoes ate my face. These weren’t big loud Canadian mosquitoes. No, these were wee, sneaky, silent, buggers that left welts all over my cheeks, nose, shoulders, and neck. And I’d caught a virus while traveling—actually, it was Stella’s Australian cold pills that saw me through the worst of it.
Nevertheless. I dreamed and journaled.
Lakki Village is an oasis in a brown-hilled goat-herder’s world, its cliff-edges clustered with square white, cobalt-trimmed cottages. The sand beach is soft, the warm, salt waves fierce when they catch you unaware. The air is clean and today the wind is calm. Cats slide by or camp near our table, kneading the trees with soft paws, begging food. One morning I go for more juice and a swift black streak leaps up and steals ham from my plate. There are also dogs—one scary black Doberman mix and several adorable terriers, one of whom I want to stuff in my bag.
I went to every workshop—glorious tutorials held with a backdrop of turquoise Mediterranean Sea. In between, I dreamt of Jason and Odysseus sailing this whaleroad; searched in vain for goat cheese on this island of 25,000 goats; meditated with my muses; soaked up the sun and floated in the warm saltwater pool with new and wonderful friends (Stella!) and explored the nearby village, which I discovered on the final day sold the most incredible gluten free sourdough loaves and imported sheep cheese!
Second: How Amorgos Reminded Me I Love Writing
Each day, inspiration flew from the lips of our instructors—thriller writer Jonas Saul and fantasy/historical fiction author C.C. (Chris) Humphreys—and it landed with me. The first day, Jonas asked, “Why are you here?”
“I turned seventy this year. I either need to break through or give up,” I heard myself say.
Don’t get me wrong. Writing is my vocation. I can’t NOT write. But something was missing in the business of it all.
By the time the week ended, I had a plan. I’d decided on a new pen name to use with my two as yet unpublished Young Adult novels.
“An artist’s name must match their mission,” Jonas said. Indeed. I’d start with my two latest novels and, over time, I’d rebrand my ongoing urban fantasy Wicca thriller series. I spent an hour talking about my new works with Chris Humphreys, where I made changes to titles, synopsis, and the all-important first page. I’d pitch and pitch, and while I waited for that “YES,” I’d write and write.
I believed in me again and the thought made me tremble.
Chris talked “upticks” and “shout lines” and “comoca”— characters with objectives meet obstacles > creates action. Of course, we knew this, but there was something in Chris’s theatrical British voice that made it potent and noteworthy. Chris took us on a metaphorical journey up the mountain—three climbs, three drafts—and left us wanting more.
Other inspiration came from our motley band of International writers, who were some of the dearest people I’ve ever met. Most of us were introverts, our heads heavy with characters and stories, and though we met socially, we secretly longed for time alone to go deep and do what we do. Write and dream and write some more.
Third: What is Destination Reading and Why is it a Thing?
“It’s simple. Before you travel, read books (preferably fiction) written about the place you’re going and then see how it resonates with you.” Like Stella Quinn, My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell (sorry Stella, it’s Duh-RELL) has been a favourite of mine for years. This is a comfort book … a whisper, a giggle, a belly laugh. You can stop and start, put it down and pick it up. It’s a book you will keep on your shelves.
Set on the island of Corfu (1935-1939), it’s the memoir/autobiography of a boy and his free-spirited family. Big brother Laurence Durrell became a rather famous author and Gerry a notable biologist. Unfortunately, one cannot duplicate the experience of a fanatical child naturalist in the 1930s on a geographically different island. While Corfu seemed to be a jungle of exotic plants and creatures, Amorgos was more of a hilly desert studded with hairy goats and surrounded by sand beaches, polished stones, and the most perfect sea imaginable. But it was in Durrell’s book I first learned the “don’t flush toilet paper in Greece” rule. This little passage reveals Gerry’s sister’s reaction to the whole sordid scenario.
I studied Mythos by Stephen Fry. At least, I managed “Part One—The Beginning” mainly because of Fry’s comedic wit, so departed for Greece with hazy notions of the gods and their idiosyncrasies. I’m particularly intrigued by Athena, who will undoubtedly find her way into my sixth Wicca thriller. Anyone who can spring from a crack in her father’s head wearing armour and a plumed helmet while carrying a shield and spear, is a match for my free-spirited Latino magician and coven high priest.
One marble statue of Athena
I took a uni course on Greek Art in 2007, so reread the text, Greek Art by Cambridge journalist and lecturer, Nigel Spivey. This enchanting art history book surveys Greek culture through the ages. It’s a heavy white tome on shiny, thick, paper. Sculptures leap from the page and vivid polychrome images present the ruins as the ancient Greeks might have viewed them. Explore this example of how polychrome is bringing those ruined marbles back to life or watch this.
Speaking of love, this stunning young man caught my eye.
The youth Antinoos of Bithynia, in Asia Minor was the favourite of Emperor Hadrian. After he drowned in the river Nile in AD130, Hadrian had him deified and erected numerous statues, busts, and portraits of him in cities and sanctuaries throughout the Roman Empire AD130-138.
All you need is love …
Finally, I read, loved, and reviewed a Young Adult Romance called Love & Olives by Jenna Evans Welch. Seventeen-year-old Olive is invited to Santorini by her long lost father, an Atlantis-obsessed explorer, to help him make a documentary about his life. Liv meets Nico, a stunning Greek boy in Oia, and they take us on a tour of Santorini.
This book was part of the reason, I took a Sea Jet to Santorini (Thera) after the retreat ended. After all, it was only a half-inch away on the map. I was pathetically seasick on the one-and-a-half-hour journey through gusty seas, and burst into tears when I finally saw my name on a sign in the parking lot—an unromantic introduction to Santorini except for Alekos, the middle-aged transport driver, who tried to revive me by running his water-soaked hands over my face and hair while murmuring soft reassurances.
Though we didn’t make it to Oia, Fira offered fireworks on an inky backdrop, a pyrotechnic display of the erupting volcano that destroyed Minoan culture (1600-1500BCE), a delicious view of the sea-filled crater dotted with cruise ships and yachts, a fabulous café overlooking the sea, clifftop clusters of white-washed hotels, and a bazillion beatific churches. We did visit the eclectic Atlantis Bookstore featured in Love & Olives and saw many of Thera’s artifacts in Athens at the National Museum of Archaeology. I have enough Santorini vibes in my soul to recreate it in my next urban fantasy—in particular, I can envision my hot magician racing and leaping across the white stucco rooftops, perhaps in pursuit of Athena.
Fira, Santorini
Intrigued? Join an active Greek Retreat Facebook group or go to their website and imagine yourself in one of these fabulous photos. Perhaps you too will have a life-changing experience in Greece.
In my last book review, I mentioned Atlantis Books. Since we were staying in Firostefani, which is where the current Atlantis Bookstore is located on the island of Santorini, we had to explore it. This cozy shop perches on the edge of the caldera, a vast, black, watery crater created when the volcano exploded on Santorini some 3600 years ago and wiped out the Minoans. A winding path allows tourists to wander up and down its edge and ogle the white-washed houses perched on cliff edges wrapped in greenery. There is a dog, a beautiful, lounging dog that fits perfectly among the quiet cacophony of books, maps, photographs, quotes, and memorabilia.
Atlantis Books is the lovechild of Craig and Oliver, who created the first rendition in 2004 with a group of friends. Previously, it was in Oia (EE-ah) that much photographed white and blue marvel of Greek island architecture. I imagine it’s a labour of love as most people come to browse and not buy. One whole room is devoted to large black and white photographs that chronicle the story of its birth. The shop is stocked with rare books and literature in several languages, philosophy, poetry, and all things Greek. It was a joy to see Leonard Cohen holding a prominent place among the shelves.
As some of you know, I’ve embarked on my writing retreat in Greece. I left Vancouver yesterday (Tuesday) at 6:30am in my first Uber, feeling excited and hopeful. A day later, I’m sitting in a Starbucks at Zurich Airport with free wifi and using my Euro plug. But I still haven’t made it to Greece. I really need to write this all down just to expunge it from my tired, battered brain so I can move on. Literally. If I count, I’ve been out here “traveling” for almost 24 hours, carrying all my gear, and wearing the same clothes.
Monday night, I made the mistake of checking the AC app (I think you all know who AC refers to, Canadian friends. Threatened pilot strike. blah blah blah.) The app announced that my Tuesday morning flight to Toronto with connection to Athens was delayed 1 hour 10 minutes.
I lay there all night, stress hormones literally percolating in my body, trying to decide if I should change my flight because I knew we were cutting that connecting flight really close. I had time I had 30 minutes to run between gates. My travel partner was joining me in Toronto and we were setting off on our Athens flight together. Around 2:30am, I discovered there was a 6am flight. I phoned the AC 24/7 lines five or six times and was told by the pleasant recorded male voice that there was a high level of calls and to be prepared for a three-hour wait time. I still haven’t been able to get through. I knew I wasn’t going to sleep all night so thought why not go out to the airport now and try to get a seat on that flight?
Then I thought, “No, you’ll be fine.”
That’s where I made my second mistake. I should have listened to my intuition.
Screenshot
The Athens flight, along with my partner, departed at 6pm (10 MINUTES EARLY.) Our Vancouver flight left later than predicted. The delay was apparently a mechanical thing. Then, one of the flight attendants was late and we all had to wait for him to arrive and board. Ironically, the best thing on that flight was the kind AC pilot sitting beside me. He helped me unravel the trickier bits of seat trays, overhead bins, and hidden screens. I thanked him and said, “You must wonder how I get through life.” He just smiled. He really was a great guy.
I was first off and raced through Terminal 1 because, you know, I had to try. I found the gate at 6:20pm. I was told that, “Nope. That plane has gone.” In the meantime, AC had rebooked me on a flight Toronto – Zurich – Athens. In theory, this was a decent plan. At boarding time, we, The 300, herded in the loading zones, but there was no plane on the tarmac. It had been in for maintenance that day and wasn’t back yet. About 30 minutes later, the plane appeared and they loaded the people who need extra help. The herd remained jostling anxiously. I wasn’t the only one with connections. About 30 minutes after that, the people who needed extra help came back off the plane and joined us. What? They were doing tests on the plane. Eventually, we all got on and took our seats, and sat there . . . and sat there.
At one point, the whole plane shut down and people stopped boarding. Here are some texts to my friend in Vancouver:
So all the power shut down in the friggin plane and we’re all sitting here in stunned silence.
It’s terrifying and they’re not telling us anything.
The lights are going to black. We’re on emergency power.
What was I thinking? Should I get off and get a hotel? What if this happens while we’re up in the air? I actually texted Tara: “I love you guys.”
When we grabbed the flight attendant, she said it was “just a routine system reboot and it’s 100% now.” She said, she’d made an announcement. Hello, the sound system wasn’t working.
We sat there in scary mode so long, one family with young kids decided to leave the plane. I understood. I was on the cusp of bailing myself when the captain came on to reassure us that everything was just fine. The new problem was the family’s luggage was packed in the hold with the other 300 suitcases. So, we sat there another 45 – 60 minutes while the ground crew rifled through the bags to give them their luggage and the mechanics tried to repair the inflight entertainment system. They were unsuccessful but it took two hours of trying. “It’s for the passengers, you know.”
Eventually, we left. Two hours late. Meaning, I lost my Athens connection in Zurich.
Then, we had a medical emergency somewhere over the ocean. The flight attendants canceled breakfast for everyone but business class because they love business class and they were too busy. Nope, they couldn’t even serve coffee—the coffee maker was broken or something . . . When we finally landed, we were told not to move because the paramedics had to come through to pick up the person. No problem. I’m no longer in a hurray.
So, there you have it. It’s Wednesday afternoon Zurich time and I’m hunkered down in this clean modern airport with a beautiful view of Swiss trees, tarmac, and planes. I have a dinner voucher worth 31 Swiss Franks (something like $50CA.) It’s raining, but I’m on the ground and I’m safe. I have a boarding pass that says I have a 7pm flight to Athens and I’ll arrive around 10:30 tonight and join my travel partner in the hotel. I haven’t slept yet and I really need a shower. But as always, I remained calm throughout. Well, mostly.
This is my first trip in seven years. Hmmmm . . . I know these are first world problems, but SSHHIIITTTT!
Whenever I travel, I immerse myself in the place before I go. I don’t just read up on sites and hotels, I read fiction, particularly if it’s well-researched. The myths surrounding a location, and the fiction inspired by it, are things that bring a setting to life. Sometimes, the setting is a character who cannot be ignored. Such is the case with Love & Olives.
I found this novel through a search for “fiction Greece” at my local library, and it turns out, it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. I breezed through it, partly because Jenna Evans Welch is an excellent storyteller, but also because she caught me in her net right from the start. I loved Olive Varanakis from page one when she shared the secret of her recurring drowning dreams, and I needed to know how her life would change. This YA book will appeal to teens, but also anyone who’s interested in the myth of Atlantis and the magical island of Santorini.
The quest to find Atlantis is window dressing to the real story of a seventeen-year-old girl who is given the opportunity to find herself and her lost father. Tragically, Nico Varanakis, left her and her mom when she was eight and no one ever explained why. Naturally, Olive took it personally. She’d spent hours helping her dad research Atlantis and suddenly he vanished. Present day Olive has reshaped herself as Liv. An amazing artist, she has a boyfriend about to graduate and attend Stanford. Dax wants her to join him, but Liv longs to go to Rhode Island School of Design (a real college.) When she receives a postcard from her long-lost father asking her to come to Santorini, she’s too angry at first to accept. But her mom talks her into going. (I have to say, I’m not enamored with Liv’s mom for keeping her dad’s secret for nine years, but when you’re setting up a story, conflict is as integral as mysteries and secrets. Nico is now creating a documentary for National Geographic about his lifelong search for Atlantis and he needs her help. Enter the B-plot, a young documentary filmmaker—Theo of the amazing eyelashes.
He was the kind of good-looking that doesn’t ever have to try to be good-looking. And he clearly was not trying. There was something infuriatingly careless about him, like he’d rolled out of bed and left the house without looking in a mirror (62).
The romantic subplot in this story is charming but the author never leaves us thinking this is just a romance. Theo and Liv lead us on an exciting tour while they film their documentary about Nico’s lifelong search for Atlantis. We even discover the secret that drives his obsession and the reason why he left Olive so long ago.
As always, I learned more from this fictional story—set on the island of Santorini and which I’m visiting for a brief moment in just a few weeks)—than any guide book. And it’s inspired me to dive into the salty Aegean Sea and explore Atlantis myself.
I can’t say Atlantis is something I’ve just stumbled upon through reading Love & Olives. It’s been circling my soul since I first heard Donovan spin the poetic tale in 1968 in his mystical Scottish whisper. Having memorized the lyrics, I could recite it along with him, my favourite lines being these:
“The antediluvian kings colonized the world. All the gods who play in the mythological dramas in all legends from all lands were from fair Atlantis.”
Antediluvian is one of the juiciest words ever created, along with primordial and primeval, and refers to the time period before Noah built his ark to survive the biblical flood. The story originated with Plato, who supposedly heard it from the Egyptians. But I digress.
Things I loved about this book:
A Bird’s Eye View of Oia (pronounced EE-ah.) If you’ve never heard of Oia, it’s the iconic white clifftop city with the cobalt blue domes that appears in every guidebook that mentions Santorini. Liv’s father was born on Santorini and now lives in Oia with his partner, Ana. Theo is her son.
The Lost Bookstore of Atlantis. In the story, Nico built the bookstore for Ana because she’d always wanted one. It even has a hidden bedroom with twin beds where Liv bunks with Theo in a very chaste way. Fortunately, there is a real Atlantis Books, which is not in Oia, but on the cliffside of Firostefani, Santorini, at the base of the Nomikos Cultural Centre, and it happens to be very close to where we’re staying!
The Structure. There are 26 chapters and each begins with a piece from Liv detailing 1 of the 26 things her father left behind . . . “most of them were throwaways, but I kept them anyway” (487). She held onto them in a box through the many moves she made with her mother. If that doesn’t endear you to this narrator nothing will.
Visits to Sites. Theo and Liv film at various sites that I’m now excited to see. Akrotiri is a Bronze Age Minoan archaeological site. Similar to Pompei, Akrotiri was destroyed by earthquakes and a massive volcanic eruption sometime between 1620 and 1530 BC. Many artifacts are housed in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, but the 20-hectare site is open to the public. Are these remnants of Atlantis?
History & Philosophy. Plato (c. 427 – 348 BC) was an ancient Greek philosopher of the Classical period. His teacher was Socrates and his student was Aristotle.
“In Timaeus Plato expounds the origin and system of the universe in a brilliantly imagined scheme of creation and divine and mortal characteristics; together with its companion piece Critias, the foundational text for the story of Atlantis, it is among Plato’s most enduring and influential dialogues.” —Oxford University Press
Plato’s Beach Clues to Atlantis. Plato writes that there were three different coloured beaches: one black, one white, and one red in the area of Atlantis. Do these beaches exist on Santorini? Yes, they do. Theo and Liv film at Kamari, a Black Beach created from volcanic material close to Fira. They also go to the White Beach and the Red Beach near Akrotiri. Liv’s impression: “Orangey-red cliffs stood tall and commanding before dropping abruptly to a narrow strip of beach that crumbled almost immediately into pristine turquoise surf, the color contrast so stark and startling that it made my eyes water” (365.)
The Open Air Cinema. Theo takes Liv to Cinekamari where they watch Some Like it Hot featuring Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in drag, along with Marilyn Monroe. This cinema actually exists near the black beach! How gorgeous is this venue?
I actually think we should be staying longer in Santorini. Or perhaps this is just an appetizer and I’ll be returning. This one little island (which is actually made up of five islands) has much to share.
Many thanks to Jenna Evans Welch for her wonderful introduction to Santorini. If you want more, Love & Olives is part of her “teen girls going abroad to find love” trilogy. Love & Gelato (set in Florence) and Love & Luck (set in Ireland) were New York Times best sellers and I can understand why. Methinks Miss Jenna knows what she’s doing.
I almost put this book down. I only picked it up from the 7 Day Express Loans shelf at the library because of the setting. Not because Michaelides is a New York Times bestselling author or because his first novel debuted at #1 and sold 6.5 million copies. I just really wanted some Grecian atmosphere because I’ve just booked a writer’s retreat in the Cyclades. But the beginning bored me, even though from the first line it promised to be “a tale of murder.”
It was set on an ex-movie star’s private Greek island as promised, but not all of it. (That too was a lie.) And yes, there were moments where the sand and surf and wind buffeted me into that island world, but much of it is set on another island entirely. England. The Fury, of course, refers to the mad Grecian wind—a wind that plays as antagonistic a role as the insane trickster narrator, Elliot Chase (not his real name.) Nothing is real about this narrator. But I enjoyed moments like this:
“We made our way to the coast and began to search the beaches. This was an arduous task, with the wind attacking us as we walked. The fury was relentless, slashing our faces, hurling sand at us, screaming in our ears, shoving us off-balance every chance it got” (160).
It is a locked room murder mystery, I suppose, considering there are only seven people on the island: Lana, the ex-Hollywood actress who owns Aura (the island named after the Goddess); her seventeen-year-old son Leo; her studly boyfriend, Jason; her best girlfriend, a messed up actress named Kate; Agathi, the old woman who is Lana’s faithful servant; Nikos (I can’t remember why he’s there to tell you the truth, perhaps he’s another servant); and Elliot, our fiendish narrator who’s Lana’s friend and obsessed with her.
I say “fiendish” because the author breaks all kinds of writerly rules; like popping in with his opinions when he’s not in the room and can’t possibly know what’s being said. This cardinal “point-of-view” rule haunts me and I dare not break it. But I suppose a NewYork Times #1 bestselling author can do whatever he wants. Elliott frequently pops in with his first-person voice and is the most twisted fuck I’ve read in a long while. I caution you: Don’t believe what he says because three pages later, he’ll admit to making it up and give you a completely different version of the events. Oh, and the characters are actors, playing parts for the narrator, and at times the author, who continues to rewrite the script of this five-act prose-play. It’s brilliant really. Even if it’s as infuriating as that damn wind.
So, why didn’t I put this book down? One word. Spellbinding. Michaelides caught me in his trickster spell and forced me to keep reading, and, as I read, the action revved up—driven by lies and self-propelled by an annoying narrator. I can’t say I’ve read anything like it before.
Is there a murder? Yes. But that’s all I’ll tell you. To know more, you’ll have to mount the wind and see where she takes you. Who of these seven players is the victim and who the killer, I will not say.
