The Crows of Beara
By Julie Christine Johnson
Genre: Fiction, Climate Fiction, Eco-Lit,
Women's Fiction
Along the windswept
coast of Ireland, a woman discovers the landscape of her own heart
When Annie Crowe
travels from Seattle to a small Irish village to promote a new copper mine, her
public relations career is hanging in the balance. Struggling to overcome her
troubled past and a failing marriage, Annie is eager for a chance to rebuild
her life.
Yet when she
arrives on the remote Beara Peninsula, Annie learns that the mine would
encroach on the nesting ground of an endangered bird, the Red-billed Chough,
and many in the community are fiercely protective of this wild place. Among
them is Daniel Savage, a local artist battling demons of his own, who has been
recruited to help block the mine.
Despite their
differences, Annie and Daniel find themselves drawn toward each other, and,
inexplicably, they begin to hear the same voice--a strange, distant whisper of
Gaelic, like sorrow blowing in the wind.
Guided by ancient
mythology and challenged by modern problems, Annie must confront the
half-truths she has been sent to spread and the lies she has been telling
herself. Most of all, she must open her heart to the healing power of this
rugged land and its people.
Beautifully crafted with environmental themes, a lyrical Irish
setting, and a touch of magical realism, The Crows of Beara is
a breathtaking novel of how the nature of place encompasses everything that we
are.
About the Author
Julie's short stories and essays have appeared in several
journals, including Emerge Literary Journal; Mud Season
Review; Cirque: A Literary Journal of the North Pacific Rim; Cobalt; River
Poets Journal, in the print anthologies Stories for Sendai;
Up, Do: Flash Fiction by Women Writers; and Three Minus One:
Stories of Love and Loss; and featured on the flash fiction
podcast No Extra Words. She holds undergraduate degrees in
French and Psychology and a Master’s in International Affairs. Julie leads
writing workshops and seminars and offers story/developmental editing and
writer coaching services.
Named a "standout debut" by the Library Journal,
"Very highly recommended" by Historical Novels Review and declared
"Delicate and haunting, romantic and mystical" by bestselling author
Greer Macallister, Julie's debut novel In Another Life went
into a second printing three days after its February 2, 2016 release.
A finalist for The Siskiyou Prize for New Environmental Literature, judged by
PEN/Faulkner author and Man Booker Award nominee Karen Joy Fowler, Julie's
second novel The Crows of Beara was acquired by Ashland Creek
Press and will take flight on September 15, 2017.
A hiker, yogi, and wine geek, Julie makes her home on the
Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington state.
Website: juliechristinejohnson.com
On Amazon: http://amzn.to/2o4RnJs
On Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2pD6lDz
On Powell’s: http://bit.ly/2grs41i
On B&N: http://bit.ly/2pDlbda
On Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2pD6lDz
On Powell’s: http://bit.ly/2grs41i
On B&N: http://bit.ly/2pDlbda
EXCERPT:
It took him longer
than he anticipated to find a space near the gallery’s back loading door and to
bring the last of his pieces inside, but when Daniel walked into the gallery,
Annie was standing transfixed in front of the sculpture he’d titled Grian/Gealach—Sunrise/Sunset—her
hand reaching for the delicate spheres of metal. She withdrew her hand before
touching the piece, though her body leaned in still.
“Go on. It’s all
right,” he said over her shoulder, removing a pair of stained and torn leather
work gloves.
She seemed not to
register him. Then she turned and nodded at the gloves he clutched in one hand.
“Do you work here?”
“I’m delivering
pieces for the installation.” He waved around the exhibit space. “We’ve set up
just a few so far, but they give you an idea.”
“Is the artist a
friend of yours?”
“Some days, yes. Some
days I really can’t stand the sight of the bastard. But mostly we get along.”
He winked and motioned her toward the sculpture. “Really, it’s meant for all
the senses, not just visual. Go on.”
She drew the tip of
her finger down one large round of metal. It blazed like firelight, catching
the dipping sun, but the metal was cool. “It’s beautiful.”
“I like for people to
handle these pieces—I want them to feel the texture and temperature of the
materials.” Annie turned in surprise, but Daniel pretended not to notice.
“Fingerprints leave marks and oil—that’s a good thing, at least for my work.
People change my art as much as I hope it changes them.”
“I didn’t know you
were an artist.”
“I do the guiding to
keep a steady income coming in, but this is meant to be my day job.”
Giant parcels wrapped
in quilted moving blankets leaned against the walls; only one other piece had
been unwrapped, a protective cover draped over the corners. It was a tall,
narrow triptych of patinated metal with a background of aquamarine. Gracing the
foreground was a long hawthorn stem of leaves and berries that shimmered and
waved in a silhouette of red and gold.
“This is copper,” she
said in wonder. “You work with copper.”
“Copper mostly. Some
bronze, chrome. I’m just starting in with glass—studying with an artist out of
a cooperative here in Kenmare.”
“But, Daniel.
Copper.”
“Recycled copper. I
use discarded materials, from building sites mostly. Ironic, right? I don’t
want the mine in my backyard, but I’m willing to exploit it nonetheless—is that
what you’re thinking? I’m not so naive as to think we shouldn’t have mining.”
He pulled the cover
away from the sculpture’s sharp edges and let it drop to the floor. The
hawthorn was in a cow pasture where he often sat, watching for the Red-billed
Chough that foraged for seeds in the manure. “But in my own way, maybe I can
show that the earth’s resources aren’t ours for the taking wherever, whenever
we want. Art is a way to connect people with their environment without
polarizing, without politicizing. It can be used to that purpose, but it
belongs to everyone. I want my art to show nature as a cultural artifact. I
made a very deliberate decision to use what’s already been taken from the
earth—what had been stripped from Beara’s earth more than a century ago. Maybe
that is my political statement.”
At that moment,
hearing the words in his own voice, speaking his heart out loud, Daniel made
his decision. But it was something he needed to sit with, to form more fully on
his own. And he couldn’t forget, no matter how enchanting this woman was, who she
was, why their paths had crossed.
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