Anne's Blog

  Perkin Warbeck or Richard, due of York? E arlier this year, I encouraged you to watch The Lost King , a movie about finding Richard III's bones under a car park in Leicester in 2012. It certainly generated renewed interest in England's maligned (by Shakespeare et al) king.  At the end of November, another astonishing revelation about Richard emerged, spearheaded again by Philippa Langley, the discoverer of the location of Richard's bones. Not satisfied with that incredible success, Philippa then launched The Missing Princes Project, a research project attempting to solve the centuries-old mystery of what happened to the princes in the Tower, who disappeared in the summer of 1483, never to be seen again. You ask the majority of English people if they think they know what happened to them, and, up until November, I guarantee you 80 percent would have said, "Oh, Richard III murdered them." Even I, who is one of Richard's greatest champions, believe someone (but

  I confess we were a little worried about finding food in France to please our grandson, Leo. But then he put us at ease: "Just feed me croissants, pastries and fries, and I will be happy," he told us. Luckily strawberries were in season, so he got some of those with his daily croissant and pain au chocolat for breakfast. The other craving he had, and he wrote to his mum to get the name right, was for his favorite sauce: Béarnaise. We were puzzled all week as to why those places we found ourselves in didn't offer anything with Béarnaise. But he didn't complain. Over the week, he surprised us with his willingness to try things even if only to turn up his nose. Our first evening, we were so tired from the chaotic time getting from the plane to the apartment, we fell out onto our street and sat in the first cafe we found. Their offering that evening was lasagne, and Leo and I decided to try that. Don't order Italian in France, was our conclusion. It came with salad,

  My first time in Paris was in 1963, when my father organized for me to spend a year as a bi-lingual secretary at a shipping business on Avenue de l'Opera. It was a difficult year for an extremely self-conscious 19-year-old six-footer. I towered above everyone on the Metro and was stared at wherever I went. I even had a shoe salesman tell me to, "Allez chez les hommes, mademoiselle," because he had never seen such big feet on a woman.  But, the city's beauty was hard to ignore, and it was during my weekend sightseeing jaunts that I fell in love with the Sainte Chapelle. This trip to Paris with Grandson Leo marked my 22nd time of visiting it. Up until the 21st time, which would have been ten years ago on a "passing through" visit to the city, I was able to just wander through the Palais de Justice building to the inner courtyard, where this jewel hides, and be with a handful of others to marvel at its stunning stained-glass. In 2014, I had to stand in line a

  Leo turned into a teenager last week. Ah, you say, so into a kid who will now only answer in monosyllables when he's not giving you sass; get miffed if you tell him to turn off his phone/tablet/gamer; and generally behave as though you, his parent or grandparent, knows nothing at all about anything. But Leo is not that kind of kid; and for us as grandparents taking him on his first trip abroad to a non-English speaking country, we found this out on the very first day of his being in our care for the first time without his parents. (That's a lot of firsts.) We flew overnight on French Bee from Miami to Paris Orly and landed on June 6th--at the start of a one-day General Strike. Ack! Les Français et ses grèves. We had no idea what to expect, but that things were not as they usually are on a Tuesday in June became evident as we sat on the plane for an hour and a half waiting to disembark. Our jetway was not ready (not enough personnel willing to work) and so portable stairs had

  William Caxton offering the first book ever printed in English to his patron Margaret of York This year marks the 550th anniversary of the first-ever printed book in English. A worthy topic for a writer's blog, I think! Last night, I spoke at my Book Club who, having just read The Personal Librarian , chose to read my Daughter of York, when I explained that William Caxton (the "printer" of my blog title) was a major character in it. Thus the members could enjoy the connection between J.P. Morgan's obsession to obtain a certain Caxton-printed book for his NY library and how that book came to be. The"duchess" of my title is, if you hadn't guessed, Margaret of York , the protagonist in my second book. It was a longer book than the usual choice of our club, but not as long as the Stephen King one of a few months ago, which I confess I did not get through. (In my old age, I have only minimum patience for books I have no interest in reading--even for a b

  Trying to walk the fine line between making the writing of a book into at least a break-even proposition in this day and age of publishing nightmares, my Marketing Manager (Scott!) felt giving away 50 e-books  of This Son of York on Goodreads might generate interest (and a few sales!) and coincide nicely with The Lost King  movie's release. (Have you seen it yet??) The Giveaway lasts all month, so I invite you to take advantage and sign up!

 I finally got to see The Lost King this week! Having taken a fall last week, broken bones in my right foot and sprained/strained the other knee, I had to be pushed into the movie theater in Port Charlotte by my long-suffering husband, Scott. In the interests of full disclosure, I did see the film in January at a friend's house who had managed to stream it with an unlocked thingamajig, but sitting in her sunny apartment living room with me answering her questions as we went along, it was not the same as actually SEEING it. On the big screen. In the dark. With an audience. And with surround-sound!  I was transported back a decade to the thrilling announcement that an archeological dig in a car park in Leicester had actually uncovered what they thought were Richard III's remains. Six months later the DNA confirmed it. Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope (who also teamed to write Philomena) were obviously intrigued enough to think this amazing and historic discovery by a middle-aged, Sc

  Philippa Langley with Harry Lloyd, who plays Richard III in The Lost King In the middle of composing a blog about "Who Killed the Princes in the Tower," I received an email from Philippa Langley, she of the amazing discovery of Richard III's bones under the Leicester car park. It was perfect timing!  In the interests of full disclosure, I became acquainted via email with Philippa back in 2011, when I sent money to her Finding Richard project. In 2013, when I started writing Richard's story in This Son of York , I asked Philippa's permission to use several of her passages from the book she co-wrote with Michael K. Jones, The King's Grave , and she graciously gave me permission. Philippa is as humble about her historic search as Sally Hawkins  portrays her in the new film The Lost King . Not satisfied with spending years following her dream to unearth the last Plantagenet king of England, she has spent the last six years delving into "what happened to th

         J ust look at these paintings! Doesn’t your heart break for these brothers, “imprisoned” in the Tower of London and unaware of their fate? One of the paintings (Victorian, granted) shows the “murderers” hovering over those adorable boys.      What really happened to them? After July 1483, they were never seen again — or were they? This is probably the most intriguing mystery of English history after who was Jack the Ripper. It has gripped me for most of my adult life, too.      All I know, in my heart of hearts, is that Richard III was not the killer, although history loves to say he was!      So who were they, and why were they important? Edward, 13, and Richard, 11, were the only sons of King Edward IV and when Edward died suddenly at age 42, young Edward--I'll call him Ned to avoid confusion with his Dad--was named (but not crowned) King Edward V. In medieval times, it was never  a good idea to have a boy king, too much of a temptation for greedy people to take power a

I was pleased to see, for a change, that The Lost King movie chose a nice-looking, undeformed young actor named Harry Lloyd to play the fantasy Richard. And he was downright pleasant throughout, unlike the character in the famous Shakespeare play! Harry Lloyd as Richard III Anyone who has read or seen Richard III  should know that our Will played hard and fast with the historical record. Such a brilliant play with an enviable lead for an actor, but oh so wrong in many ways. For example, there's the hunchback bit, which I covered in last week's blog. It was scoliosis--sideways curvature, not kyphosis--hunchbacked. Then there were the murders attributed to him on his way to "usurping" the throne--even that of Edmund Beaufort, duke of Somerset, who actually died in the first Battle of St. Albans when Richard was only three! How's that for a skilled toddler-warrior?  And his inappropriate, sleazy seduction of Anne Neville at the funeral of her husband, Edward, prince

  Richard III's skeleton Was Richard really a hunchback? I get that question over and over during my book tours, and up until 2012, my answer was enigmatic. "We don't know," wasn't satisfactory, I know, but being a writer meticulous about accuracy, I chose not to even refer much to his physicality in all my books--except the last one, This Son of York.  I needed to write the final book in my series about Richard's family precisely so I could now set the record straight and answer the question truthfully. It added to his story immeasurably. No, he was not a hunchback: he had a bad case of scoliosis that developed gradually only during his teen years, which is very different from kyphosis (hunchback).   With the discovery of his skeleton under that car park in Leicester, the dreaded words "crooked spine" were used to describe what the osteologist saw in the makeshift grave. "Oh no," I thought, "and I haven't mentioned his back in any

  .... to the US/Canada release of  The Lost King !   (right) Sally Hawkins as Philippa Langley, and (left) Philippa Langley and Richard III  The Stephen Frears directed film about the extraordinary story of finding Richard III’s bones under a car park in Leicester will be released in US on March 24th. What serendipity for me as I am now able to announce the publication of the Second Edition of  This Son of York , under my own EasterSmithPress. The book is newly available at all the usual on-line book-buying platforms .   I was lucky enough to get a sneak, pirated viewing of the film last week (I might get buried alive if I disclose the source!)and I was delighted to relive the whole exciting time for Ricardians in 2012.  I loved that Richard appears in the film as protagonist Philippa Langley’s muse, allowing her to “think” things through with him as he quietly stands by encouraging her monologues with a small smile, a nod of the head, or a raised eyebrow.  Sally Hawkins is wonderful