In 1536, Henry and Anne are at the mercy of influences outside their control, explosively incompatible, and caught in a marriage that ends in betrayal so shocking that Anne requires lifetimes to recover.
Henry, seemingly in defense of Anne (but more likely acting out of "stubborn perverseness," she observes), terrorizes England and decrees widespread political murder in order to protect her. Ultimately, to Anne's horror, this once passionate husband turns on her and has her executed as well.
Threads, a reincarnation fantasy, opens with Anne's execution. Her fury at her husband s betrayal has enough momentum to survive centuries, but in Threads she learns that she has been assigned a hard task: she must review their history together through a number of past lives, and find it within herself to forgive him. This may prove difficult and take some time. The husband in question is Henry Tudor, the notorious Henry VIII. The narrator is the stubborn, volatile Anne Boleyn, who is not at all inclined to forgive.
It is a very unusual love story.
William Faulkner Competition finalist for best novel.
Nell Gavin is also author of "Hang On," which was awarded the Living Now Book Awards silver medal, and was chosen by Red Adept Reviews as a Red Adept Select title voted outstanding in its genre.
The book has sold modestly but consistently over the years, averaging between two and three sales a day during slow years. When I have been more focused on marketing, I sold an average of 75 copies per day.
I could not see the crowd any longer. Were it not for the sound of an occasional involuntary cough, I might have thought myself alone and dreaming. In the midst of this unnatural stillness, I could sense the thousands of unsympathetic eyes I knew were fixed upon me. I could neither hide from them, nor could I stop myself from visualizing the faces and the stares.
Suddenly, startlingly, a bird flapped its wings and took flight. I imagined all faces were turned toward the sky and all eyes were now fixed upon the bird. For that one moment, all in attendance would have forgotten me and would allow me to quietly slip away before they even noticed I had left them. That fanciful imagery and a final prayer were all the comfort I could give myself.
A voice with a heavy French accent shouted: “Where is my sword?”
Then, in one instant, a hand reached for mine, and a voice gently said “Come,” and I followed. Disoriented yet aware, I looked down and saw the crowd, its taste for blood satisfied by the day’s entertainment. I thought, “Wait,” and saw Henry in my mind and in a flash I was with him for one last moment. He was mounted for the hunt, surrounded by huntsmen and hounds, awaiting the sound of gunshots that would announce my passing. They rang out as I watched and he inwardly flinched, outwardly revealing no emotion at all. He would now race to Jane, would make her his wife in only 10 days’ time, and would never speak my name aloud again.
I looked at him and thought, “Why?” like a wail, a keening, and could see he was disturbed, though determined not to be. Denying.
I knew he could sense me. It was in his thoughts, and I could read them as if they were spoken aloud. He was agitated and fearful. “Damn you, Henry,” I thought. He heard me in his mind, and thought he was mad.
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Chinese
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Already translated.
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French
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Already translated.
Translated by Jennifer Joffre
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Author review: A pleasure to work with! |
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Italian
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Already translated.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Sandra Cifuentes Dowling
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Author review: Wonderful to work with! |
