{"id":42205,"date":"2024-06-17T06:30:53","date_gmt":"2024-06-16T18:30:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/helenlowe.info\/blog\/?p=42205"},"modified":"2024-06-16T23:23:34","modified_gmt":"2024-06-16T11:23:34","slug":"victoria-m-adams-the-house-at-the-end-of-the-sea-qa-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/helenlowe.info\/blog\/2024\/06\/17\/victoria-m-adams-the-house-at-the-end-of-the-sea-qa-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Victoria M Adams & \u201cThe House At the End of the Sea\u201d — Q&A #3"},"content":{"rendered":"

Today marks the third and final post in The House At the End of the Sea<\/em><\/strong> Q&A series with Victoria M Adams — and I really love her thoughtful and indepth answers to the questions, as well as the glimpses into the story. It has been a real privilege, as well as a great pleasure, hosting both her and the Q&A.<\/p>\n

On which note…<\/p>\n

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Art Credit: Sharon King-Chai<\/p><\/div>\n

Victoria M Adams & The House At the End of the Sea<\/em>: Q&A #3<\/span><\/h3>\n
Helen:<\/strong> What traditions of magic, fairytale, and\/or myth does The House At the End of the Sea<\/em> draw upon?<\/span><\/div>\n
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Victoria M Adams:<\/strong> I mentioned Sir Gawain and the Green Knight<\/em> in relation to the previous question<\/a>. If there is a single archetype I’d point to that informs me, it is the one in that story – the testing fairy. The Queen in my story is like the Green Knight. Dangerous, challenging, she upends received wisdom and convention, challenging the hero to ‘know thyself’. On the surface of it, that sort of magical character offers power (think of the green girdle in ‘Gawain’). In reality, the worst thing you can possibly do is accept that power at face value (note: it’s not the power that’s a problem. It’s how it’s used). The idea is to see what you’re made of through the vehicle of story, how you deal with challenges to your world view. The Green Knight takes Gawain on a journey of self-knowledge.
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Saffi’s family has accepted a similar bargain down the generations without questioning it. This has disastrous consequences for themselves and others. Each time the Queen renews the deal, the heir receives a magical ‘gift’. But there is, as always, a price. In a twist on the usual Faustian bargain, the price in the case of the True family is paid by others – those the family exploits, those they cheat or bully, even those within the family who are too curious or who don’t play by the rules. It is a family that has accumulated wealth by nefarious means down the generations. Time and again, the Queen asks her question: ‘What do you want?’ Time and again, the Trues reply: ‘Wealth, power, influence.’ I suspect the Queen might long for a different answer.
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Art Credit: Frank Victoria<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\nAn Excerpt from The House at the End of the Sea<\/em><\/span><\/h3>\n<\/div>\n
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“Room 2A, Saffi reminded herself, walking along the first floor corridor with its green carpet. Her pulse raced as she passed a door marked 3A<\/em>, then one marked 2B<\/em>. Half of her anticipated this encounter \u2013 finally!<\/em> \u2013 while the other half wanted to run. The lion-coat was no longer on the chair. No one else was about. Saffi stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall with the right number in polished brass. From beyond came a low murmur of voices. She reached out her hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

But before she could knock, the door swung open of its own accord. There was a sudden hush as everyone inside looked round.<\/span><\/p>\n

For the guest suite was full, far more so than Saffi expected. Nobody there resembled Piccola. 2A was a long room that spanned the width of the house. One side looked towards the sea, while the other faced the trees. It contained a grey velvet divan, several upholstered chairs and a dining table. On this were set out sweetmeats and desserts of every description, from chocolates and cakes to Milo\u2019s favourites, the colourful macarons<\/em>. There was also an enormous bowl of fruit \u2013 plums, peaches, black grapes. A spicy scent hit Saffi, more pleasant than the musky smell in the hall but very strong. Somehow, though there weren\u2019t enough beds in the B&B, she guessed that there must be two dozen people in the room. A few sat but most stood about in groups of two or three.<\/span><\/p>\n

And what people! The first comparison that sprang to mind was a costume ball. The guests were dressed in an extraordinary fashion. They wore ballgowns with elaborate wigs and headdresses, or almost nothing at all aside from rhinestones and body paint. Or were those greys, greens and golds their actual skin? They had hats, veils, cloaks of feathers; they were sequinned and bejewelled. Some walked on stilts or else the heels on their shoes were impossibly high. They hid their faces behind masks. Their clothes were made of a gauzy material like last year\u2019s leaf skeletons. Those colours, too, were shades of purple, green, grey, brown. Saffi had to make an effort not to stare at the more outlandish costumes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018So this is the child,\u2019 said a man\u2019s voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the divan at the centre of the room sat the Lord and Lady. There was no mistaking them. The Lady was the only one who went unmasked, her hair like glorious tumbleweed. With a by-now familiar shiver, Saffi recognised her as the watcher at the window, the figure in the mirror. Up close, her beauty was shocking. Saffi couldn\u2019t tear her gaze away. The Fairy Queen, if that was who she was, reclined against green cushions, facing the sea. Her dress was of the same gauzy material but white. It set off her golden-brown skin and green eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

The resemblance to Mum wasn\u2019t as strong as Saffi had first imagined. Like and unlike<\/em>, she thought with a pang.<\/span><\/p>\n

Beside her on the divan was a tall man dressed in black. At first, Saffi had the confused sense that he had a deer\u2019s head. Then she saw it was a mask and headdress, complete with antlers. His velvety brown eyes, visible through the holes, were fixed on her. He was the one who had spoken.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Well?\u2019 he went on. \u2018What have you to say for yourself?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

Saffi gathered up her courage. P\u2019s and Q\u2019s<\/em>, she remembered. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019s an honour to meet you, Sir,\u2019 she said. \u2018And my Lady. How may I help?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

The antlers tilted as he considered her. \u2018At least you have manners. Please,\u2019 he gestured towards the table laden with food, \u2018take whatever you like. We only wish to converse.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

Saffi smiled but didn\u2019t move. Eat nowt<\/em>. The Lady was looking at her now. It was nerve-racking to be fixed on by those green eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018There is one thing we require.\u2019 Her voice, low and musical, set the hairs tingling on Saffi\u2019s arms. \u2018The heir must speak.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Your father,\u2019 the Lord said, \u2018has declined our invitation.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

Saffi felt her heart thud in her chest.\u00a0\u2019Ah,\u2019 she began, but had to clear her throat to go on. \u2018My dad isn\u2019t home, but when he\u2019s back\u2014\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Not him.\u2019 The Lady cut her off. \u2018You.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a pause, as the audience watched Saffi with intense interest. Feathers quivered, rhinestones glittered. There were no more niceties. Some of the extravagant creatures crept nearer. Their scent made her dizzy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018What do you want me to say?\u2019 she mumbled in panic.<\/span><\/p>\n

A ripple of laughter passed through the room. \u2018What,\u2019 chided the Lady. But she was smiling. \u2018Will you not honour our agreement? We have not forgotten it. We still know who we are. What is your choice, True child?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Choice? Me?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

Saffi had assumed her father was the one who had to decide about the True deal. But that clearly wasn\u2019t the case. The Lord gave a faint sigh of impatience. The Lady didn\u2019t take her gaze off Saffi.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u2018Our offer is simple,\u2019 she said. \u2018For every Gift, a price. For every day, a night. Your father knew that once. Will you honour our bond?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

She waited briefly before going on. \u2018What do you desire, Tara Persephone? Love? Fame? Happiness?\u2019 She narrowed her eyes. \u2018Do you wish to belong? You are a child of two worlds. I could give you peace in one. You need no longer choose sides: father or mother, East or West. You could be at home.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

For a teetering moment it hung, clear and sharp in front of Saffi \u2013 a vision of what the Lady was offering. She had had that sense, all her life, of being torn in two. English or Iranian, foreign or local, London or Breakwell. Now, that uncomfortable duality might end. She felt like a butterfly, the Lady\u2019s gaze boring through her like a pin. This was what Grandad had warned her about. Take nowt<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Please,\u2019 she said in desperation. \u2018Will you take your spell off Dad? I need him to see.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

The spectators whispered, a murmur like the sound of wind in dry leaves.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Alas, your father\u2019s state is no doing of ours.\u2019 The Lady shook her head. \u2018Such a fate can only be chosen for oneself.\u2019 “<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

from \u00a9 The House at the End of the Sea<\/em> \u2014 produced here with permission.
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Victoria M Adams<\/p><\/div>\n

About The Author<\/span><\/h3>\n

Victoria M. Adams spent her childhood bouncing between Cyprus, Canada and the US with her Iranian mother, trying to achieve first place in the \u2018Most Visas Acquired Before Age Eighteen\u2019 sweepstakes. As an adult, she carried on the nomadic family tradition by adding France and New Zealand to the mix, where she worked as an animator, copywriter, tutor and story coach, in no particular order. She currently shares her London home with two humans and a feckless cat.<\/span>
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Previous Posts:<\/h4>\n