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Showing posts with label joan simon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joan simon. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

#TuesdayTreasure: #RockingSummerRomanceRead with Joan Simon @JoanBSimon

Good Morning from Bandera, TX!

Yes, I am back at my home-away-from-home, the Silver Spur Guest Ranch! Just came up for a visit this week and am so happy and grateful for the friends I have here!

Today's guest, Joan Simon visited us with her book, Long Time Walk on Water here on June 28th but she's back with another great excerpt during our Rocking Summer Romance blog hop!

So without much further ado.....Here's Joan....

Joan Barbara Simon (Ph.D.); novelist, poetess, songwriter. Lecturer. Researcher. Trouble-maker. I write about dissent, the negotiation of the Self, the mutation from innocence to experience and  the brittle beauty of human relationships. Above all, my fiction is an appeal for tolerance and a homage to all who live their individuality with their head held high. Connect with Joan at the following links...joan-barbara-simon.com  facebook twitter 


Emily Thompson, Rose to her friends, emigrates to the motherland, England, in search of a better life. It will be hard work for the young mother in this rich man’s country; above all she must also come to terms with this unknown phenomenon; di Hinglish dem.

James Dunbar. Jack is what he answers to. Picking his way through the mucky incidents of life, he consoles himself that things will get better.

They happen to meet at a bus-stop, Emily and Jack.

A tale of how the humble live whilst waiting for their dreams to come true.

*

Letters were read and written with relish. In the novel they provide further glimpses of an Outsider view of England:


London, April —, 19—

Dear Junie,

How are you? I’m sure you are fine and One-foot is fine. I hope Marlene is fine and Leroy is fine. Give them my love.

I cross over safely. England is very cold. It’s raining all the time and there’s no good sunshine. With weather like this the people bound to be miserable. I already miss Jamaica. The address I had is correct when I get to England. The houses are really small and squash up together. Never mind. A roof is a roof. I am so tired after the journey, but I think, let me sit down and let you know I reach safe. Tomorrow I must go and look work. London is so big there must be work for everyone. As you know I have a job promised to me. I hope him don’t forget. You know how them say the streets of London are paved with gold, well, there’s not one word of truth in it. But I hope all the same that things work out how I planned and that I don’t come here for nothing.

Hear this. I get off the plane go to customs or immigrations or something like that. Him ask me, is this your passport? What a stupid question! Me say, of course is me passport. Whose passport it suppose to be? Hear him; it could belong to anybody for all he know, we all look the same. I glad One-foot wasn’t there or him would box off him facety head. Generally the white people friendly enough. So many of them stop and ask me if they can help me at the airport. I didn’t know what to do. All I had was the slip of paper with the address. Some of them look at me a bit funny but is ignorant them ignorant. One woman take me to the taxi and tell the taxi driver me is a friend so him not to drive no long route but take me direct. Me nearly die laughing! The English taxi them peculiar you see! Big and black like a bug and you got room for a whole heap a luggage in the back with you. Them even got one clapdown seat if is more people. We drive a long long time before we get to London. Them got one big red bus them call double-decker. Take you everywhere you want to go, the taxi driver tell me. The taxi driver nosey you see! Him want to know where me come from and how long me going to stay. I just smile and tell him little bit. You can’t be unfriendly. Tell One-foot I still got my head.

I am very tired and I’m going to sleep a little bit. I will write you soon. I’m surprised, I see quite a few black faces here in London. Say hello to everybody for me and let them know I reach safe.

Junie, Marlene, Leroy, One-foot, goodbye and God bless.

Yours,
Rose.


Rose Thompson, the protagonist, epitomizes the strong, funny, suspicious nature of the Outsider daring to go for a new life in a foreign country. She epitomizes the strength of dreams. She’ll reveal to us a lot about how the Jamaican family works and although she'd never use the word feminist it’s still true to say that she is all about independence, equality and betterment.
(Joan Barbara Simon, interviewed by Sezoni Whitfield for Writer’s Kaboodle)


If you, too, enjoyed reading this, here’s where you can read more:


Saturday, June 28, 2014

Saturday Spotlight: Joan Simon & Long Time Walk on Water.

Good Morning Friends,

Today's spotlight is an author I met through a promo group, Authors Helping Authors. Actually I belong to two groups by that name LOL! But this lady belongs to the group that does the Egg-cerpt Exchange blog hops and I'm pleased to introduce her to you so without much further ado.....

Joan Barbara Simon (Ph.D.); novelist, poetess, songwriter. Lecturer. Researcher. Trouble-maker. I write about dissent, the negotiation of the Self, the mutation from innocence to experience and  the brittle beauty of human relationships. Above all, my fiction is an appeal for tolerance and a homage to all who live their individuality with their head held high. Connect with Joan at the following links...joan-barbara-simon.com  facebook twitter 


Emily Thompson, Rose to her friends, emigrates to the motherland, England, in search of a better life for her two young children, whom she is forced to leave behind. It will be hard work for the young mother in this rich man’s country; not only must Rose scrape the money together for a new life, but she must also come to terms with this unknown phenomenon, di Hinglish dem.

James Dunbar. Jack is what he answers to. Picking his way through the mucky incidents of life, he consoles himself that things will get better. 

They happen to meet at a bus-stop, Emily and Jack. 

An account of the black immigrant experience jostling to find its place among the white working class. A tale of how the humble live whilst waiting for their dreams to come true. A virtuoso performance in which the protagonists slip in and out of names like garments to the same measure that Time shifts like the plates of the earth, Long Time Walk on Water is, above all, an unforgettable love story: the story of a mother’s love and the price her family must pay for generations to come. 

Excerpt: Rose stood at the bus-stop, her hour and a half done, her mind running through the things she had to do before her main job in the pie factory started. She could do a quick bit of shopping and have a look in at Pollard’s to see if their children’s underwear had come down in price. Oh, and the rent had to be paid. Miss Brown, though friendly, was strict, and sent Carmen to each of the tenants on a Thursday evening to remind them that the rent was due the following day, wanting it as soon as her tenants came in, and before they had the chance to squander it over the weekend. Four or five people, waiting at the bus-stop. Always the same faces, engaged in small talk about the weather. About the prices. One particular man had smiled at Rose a couple of times before, had said “Good morning!” to her once. Rose just look him up and down, is what im tink im doing?

“Bet it’s not half as nice here as it is where you come from, is it?”

“I beg yu pardon?” She span round, irritated by the sudden voice so close to her ear.

“Said it’s probably much nicer where you come from, ain’t it?”

No answer.

“Sunshine all the year round, white beaches, warm sea, lazy days... That’s wot we fink anyway, but if it was such a bed a roses, you lot wouldn’t all be here in the first place, right?” he winked at her. “Where you from, the West Indies?”

“Yes, if yu must know,” she said, giving him no encouragement, unused to people - to white men - just marching up and making conversation with her like that.

“Yes, I must know. Gotta be careful wot I say, don’t I? Africans and West Indians don’t like to be mixed up, do they?”

A man of about forty, or so she guessed, she could never tell. Roughly her height, fair-haired, slightly ginger, he had those watery blue eyes and that pale skin. Rose could see the veins in his head, thumping greeny-blue. He looked like a fish.

“You from Jamaica?”

She eyed him critically, “That’s right.”

“That’s important to know too, you see. I can’t well talk about ‘small island people’ if I ain’t sure you’re not one of them.”

Rose had to laugh in spite of herself.

“Oh yes. I know a bit or two about John Small and him got money. That’s wot you say, innit?”

Kuya! Rose nearly dead laughing.

Other people in the queue turn round. Turn back.

Good Lord, this long long time she never laugh like that! Not since she leave home. A deep, deep-from-the-belly laugh, petering out against her will, leaving behind the embers of a smile to flick at the corners of her young, cupid lips, too tender, too pretty to harbour the hardship they had grown to know.

“Kuya! Lord have mercy!”

“Oh yes! I’ve gotta few Jamaican friends down at the docks where I work. Nicest bunch, they are, really nice bunch. Livened up the place no end, if you ask me.” He smiled into her bright, moist eyes.

“Yu work in the docks?”

“That’s right. Used to be a taxi-driver. Know London like the back o’ me hand, I do, but, well,” he sniffed, “that’s anovva story. Hated it in the docks at first but as I said, oh, here’s me bus,” he shuffled forward with the others, “anyhow, my name’s Jack. See you again sometime, I hope.” He got on, took a seat near the window, nodded to her as the bus pulled away with a hiss, then a purr.

Long Time Walk on Water is available in paperback and ebook format at stores including:


Hope you enjoyed the spotlight! Until next time...take care & God Bless!
PamT