by
Edoardo AlbertIn honour of
Penumbra’s second birthday, and without the slightest (well, hardly) intention to ingratiate myself with its editors, may I say that this is undoubtedly the friendliest and most professional magazine I’ve dealt with. Penumbra pays well, looks marvellous, responds quickly and, apart from publishing my stories, provides me with this free soapbox to advertise myself and my wares. What’s not to like? And, more importantly, long may it continue, particularly if it publishes more of my stories.
Dianna Gunn, intern par excellence, asked me to write something about what I’ve been up to since appearing in the magazine (since you ask, the Revolution and Exploration issues) and it just so happens that I have my first novel due out next March.
It’s only taken me thirty-two years to get to this stage! Anyway,
Edwin: High King of Britain was a result of the research that went into writing my book,
Northumbria: the Lost Kingdom, on the history and archaeology of one of the key Dark Ages kingdoms of England (although, of course, England didn’t actually exist then). The story of the three successive Northumbrian kings whom the Venerable Bede accords the title bretwalda – that is High King of Britain – seemed so extraordinary I was astonished that nobody had written about them before. So I decided to.
One of the advantages of doing things this way round was that I had already done most of the historical research necessary – it was just a matter of trying to bring it all to life. Hopefully I have done so, it would be a grave discourtesy to some extraordinary but all but forgotten people if I haven’t. The book will be published by Lion Fiction in March. The publishers, spotting a link, have given the trilogy the overarching title of
The Northumbrian Thrones but in truth, there really was something very like a game for thrones going on in the bloody, violent but extraordinarily creative kingdoms of seventh-century Britain. The foundations of England were laid, amid historical darkness, in a time when the only certainty for a king was a violent death. And yet, perhaps because of the very precariousness of the times, these men and women created things, such as the Lindisfarne Gospels and the Sutton Hoo jewellery, of quite extraordinary beauty. While in some ways the kings of the Early Medieval Period (the preferred academic term today) were like Mafia dons, enforcing protection rackets on their subjects, yet the culture they created and their sensitivity to language were as far removed from the profane and profanity filled life of a John Gotti as it is possible to be.
To do such times and such people justice is no small task. I can hardly hope to have succeeded, but at least I hope not to have failed.
Edoardo Albert is, on paper at least, a surprisingly exotic creature: Italian, Sinhala and Tamil by background, he grew up in London among the polyglot children of immigrants (it was only when he went to university that he actually got to know any English people). He avers that he once reduced a reader to helpless, hysterical laughter. Unfortunately, the piece that did so was a lonely-hearts ad. Find
Edoardo Albert’s books (he’s particularly proud of
Northumbria: The Lost Kingdom) and stories via his
website although the lonely-hearts ad will not be making an appearance in the foreseeable future. Connect with him through his
blog,
Twitter or
Facebook.
