Angela Petch 
Books in my Handbag is delighted to welcome the inspirational Angela Petch to the Chat Room
‘I’m inquisitive about different cultures and people. Writers are usually nosy, I think.’
Angela Petch was born in Germany, brought up in Italy and England, worked in Amsterdam, Sicily and Tanzania, East Africa. It is no wonder that she is ‘inquisitive about people and culture’. We can also thank Angela’s late father for introducing her to Italy, and I feel certain that he would have been proud of her writing. Her colourful life is reflected in her colourful writing pallet. Angela is sensitive, funny and creative: the perfect qualities for a writer
Angela has published ‘Tuscan Roots
Always full of joie de vivre, Angela insisted that we open a bottle of Prosecco before we commenced the chat. The sun was shining and butterflies dancing in the Italian garden as we commenced the conversation.
Jessie: I adore ‘Now and Then in Tuscany
The saga of three generations of a Tuscan family which recalls recent hardships and traditions of country life, too easily forgotten in today’s affluent and comfortable Europe.
Jessie: Absolutely, these elements were beautifully presented in the novel. Now here’s another challenge, read me an extract that captures the essence of your book.
Angela: “The ancient wheel beside the convent door stood waiting … like the mouth of a hungry beast, ready for me to place the baby in its wooden drum and push it to the inside of the orphanage.”
Jessie: You paint the experiences and emotions with words and tell a heart-breaking yet beautiful story. What do the reviewers say about your 5* novel?
Angela searched through the Amazon reviews while I ate crostini.
Angela:
This is no disappointment! What-happened-next books are so often disappointing. After the enchanting ‘Tuscan Roots
Reviewer: Perdisma on 13 May 2017
Fascinating people and places. It reminds me in many ways (though it’s much less relentlessly tragic!) of “The Tree of Wooden Clogs”, the prize-winning film by Ermanno Olmi – it has the same intensely imagined and exquisitely detailed recreation of a lost way of life. The photographs are part of this too – at first sight they’re just grainy little black and white images, but each one explains and is explained by the text, so that the more you read the more alive they seem, like Facebook pages from a hundred years ago.
Reviewer: Rose on Amazon 11 May 2017
Beautifully written and researched. This is a beautifully written and researched family saga that spans three generations of an Italian family. Giuseppe comes from a poor village in Tuscany where the rhythm of life is set by the Catholic Church and the menfolk’s annual winter pilgrimage to warmer winter grazing land for the sheep… The book is full of a subtle yearning. The prose is evocative. The historical narrative is impressively authentic and riven with the author’s love of her subject.
By CA reviews on 7 May 2017
Jessie: I am not surprised that you have received such accolades that all are all genuinely inspired by your storytelling. The book has been a labour of love so how did you feel when you had finished the book?
Angela: I felt a mixture of relief and sadness when I had finished writing the book. This book took me five years to research and write. At times, it was an agonising process. I struggled with the balance between history and narrative, fearing that my desire to include details about the era was pushing the plot out of shape. At first, I listened to the reactions of too many Beta readers and grew despondent and confused. But I wanted desperately to give birth to “Now and Then in Tuscany”, as I felt it was a period of history that needed to be recorded. I had help from a professional editor in the end.
Jessie: It is so reassuring to hear that such a great book is the result of a challenging journey. Do you miss the characters?
Angela: I still miss my main character, Giuseppe. He is so firmly placed in the location where we live in Tuscany that I’m sure I catch glimpses of him every now and again as he strides along the mule track.
Two weeks ago, we ate in the old stone house that I had imagined was his. I’m sure he was sitting in a corner by the stove, listening to our conversation and smiling wryly at the way we enjoyed the meal so much: our friend had recreated a peasant’s meal of nettle soup and frittata prepared with the tips of Vitalba (Old Man’s Beard). We enjoyed it as if it were a delicacy. But he would have eaten these ingredients out of necessity.
Jessie: Would you like any of your characters to read the book, or maybe there is someone else that you have in mind?
Angela: My father, Kenneth Sutor, who died twenty six years ago. He introduced his three young children to Italian culture in the 1960’s, when he relocated to Rome to work for the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. I still have his 1956 edition of Hachette’s World Guide to Italy that he carried in his pocket for our excursions. Every Sunday he would take us to Mass and afterwards treat the family to a slap-up meal in a simple trattoria. Then, out would come his little blue book and we would be guided round the Villa d’Este or the Via Appia Antica, Colosseum, Subiaco, Assisi…He refused to have us penned up in an apartment in the centre of Rome and found us a ramshackle villa on the outskirts of Rome. The garden was stuffed with Roman statues, orange trees and bordered by vineyards and peach groves. How could I, as an impressionable seven year old, fail to fall in love with Italy? He was self-educated. Today he would have enjoyed a university education but his family were not wealthy enough to support him. I remember him often engrossed in a history book, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Jessie: I know you can’t say, but I wonder if I can sense your father in Giuseppe… I am sure that your father would have been so proud of your book.
Angela: I would have loved to see him read my books. Undoubtedly, he would have pointed out the warts but I think he might have been proud of me too. He loved Italy and, on my mother’s request, I scattered his ashes on Italian soil.
Jessie: I don’t need to be convinced but why should I keep your book in my handbag?
Angela: If you are the type of person who recognises that understanding the past helps towards an understanding of the future…
If you want to explore a beautiful and little-known corner of Eastern Tuscany…
If you want to read the story of a young boy with a big heart who overcomes adversity…
If you want to weep and smile at Tuscan love stories…
Then, find a space in your handbag for “Now and Then in Tuscany”.
Jessie: What is the last sentence written in your writer’s notebook?
Angela poured herself another glass of Prosecco and wiped the condensation from the glass. There was a distinct look of mischief in Angela’s eyes as she read the following line:
“…a fluttering of fans from menopausal worshippers, in a church smelling of candle wax and cold, cold stone…”
(For an idea for my WIP, “The Adventures of Mavis and Dot”).
Jessie: What is the biggest challenge for an independent author?
Angela: Getting noticed. To be read in a competitive world where thousands of self-published authors are jostling for space. Engaging with social media has been my biggest challenge but it is the springboard. For a child of the ‘50’s, it doesn’t come easy. I was advised to set up a Twitter account. “Look for like-minded people,” was the advice from a writer friend. So, I typed “Lovers of Italian” in the search bar. I shall leave it to your imagination about the photos of gigolos and semi-naked escorts that popped up. Learning curve is the phrase that is constantly on the tip of my independent author’s tongue.
Jessie: What is the best advice that you have received as a writer?
Angela: Just write. Get it down, capture your words before they fly away.
Afterwards you will have to check and chop, but just write first. In order to have something to work on, just write. I don’t believe in writer’s block.
Jessie: I agree with you! Just let the writing flow and banish writer’s block. Does the countryside inspire you to write more than the city environment?
Angela: I like cities in small doses – for the theatre, concerts, art galleries, museums and monuments – but my heart sings in the countryside. I have played tennis all my life but at the moment I need a shoulder operation, so I can’t. Instead, I go for wonderful walks in the mountains. Better than a sweaty gym, any day.
Following the interview, I meandered down an ancient track. I reflected that we are all influenced by the past and the present. And I pondered whether anyone would make a wonderful art house film of Now and Then in Tuscany – the setting is there waiting to be captured on film.
Please see My Guests for all the authors that I have interviewed.
About the author
’. Diane had brought crusty bread, green and black olives and smoked salmon with cream cheese and horseradish. She was wearing a flowing, bright summery dress and carried a pink leather handbag with a gold clasp.
Diane smiled, took a sip of her cocktail and then searched for her phone. Ruby was sitting beside Diane and sitting on the phone. Diane took the phone and placed her book in front of the dog. Ruby settled down again as if she intended to read the book again. Diane looked at her phone and read some of the Amazon reviews.
, rose to #1 in the Amazon Kindle
chart and her latest, 
, has just been released. She likes reading, Formula 1, dancing and sunshine.
and/or Kindle
Jessie: I know what happens in the novel and thoroughly enjoyed the exciting sequence of events and the sparkling humour. Can you capture the narrative in fifty words?
S: I work hard. I don’t have the time for airs and graces and my family and friends would probably point them out if I did.
Initially, I complained that it was another rainy day in Wales and it wasn’t worth braving a potential storm. I was happy to admire the colours of the garden from my writing room, but the writing wasn’t flowing. Finally, I put on my walking gear and went to the Brecon Beacons. The beep, beep, beep of my phone was left behind as we drove into the heart of the impressive mountain range.
Always one to admire the cloudless blue sky, I was surprised by depth of the grey sky. I had been adamant that I needed the blue sky for some ‘blue sky thinking’, but I was wrong. I needed the reality of a dramatic landscape to chase away the writer’s block.
We stood in the landscape as the colours were dissolved by silver, grey and bronze tones. We discussed how the scene was changing before us, and how the moving clouds were like the curtains opening and closing on the stage. This made me aware that the weather re-writes the landscape in the same way that a writer changes the shades of meaning in a story.
It was like opening a book jacket into a giant book, when I opened the door into ‘
Passing through magical corridor from the main bookshop, I heard a little boy saying, “Wow!” to his mother, as they followed a staircase down into the children’s section.
A gentleman, wearing a white shirt and waistcoat, looked up from his book. “Oh dear!” he declared. “I think there’s more seating upstairs.” he muttered, into his book.
Clearly, this bookshop has been set up by a true book lover who values time to read, chat and eat. The ‘Book-ish’ cake menu has been designed to tempt the reader to stay. I chose The Queen of Hearts’ Bakewell Tarts. ‘
Indeed, I was delighted that Sara Gethin’s book, ‘
My Twitter and Facebook friends will understand my delight when I was handed my treasure in a brown bag that read, ‘BOOKS ARE MY BAG.’ I also discovered that the bookshop opened in the same month I launched my Books in my Handbag Blog.
Feeling relaxed, in our jeans and T shirts, we discussed the merits of the food; each dish looked elegant like a work of art. Much to my husband’s dismay, I started to make notes about the food. The guests on the neighbouring table were intrigued by the notebook. Clearly, I wasn’t a restaurant critic as I was wearing jeans. 
We sipped more of the wine that was so beautifully flavoured with summer fruits that it could have been a soft drink.
More delicious wine was poured into a glass that could happily home several goldfish.
I circled ‘black pudding’ purée several times because I didn’t have my highlighter pen. I do remember that I was offended by the puréed texture but I am a northerner.
Mysteriously, the notebook has splashes of wine and food inside of it but I will keep it as a tribute to the Picasso chef.
We agreed that the spirit of the woman seems to beckon you. From a distance, the sculpture looks like a projected image – prompting: is she real or imaginary? As you approach, the sculpture is flat like the silhouette on a stamp.
I decided this was also a sculpture but others were sceptical. A plaque marked the spot as if to reassure me.
I wonder if you would be able to spot the sculptures that instigated our discussions?
Imogen: The Dutch have a word “gezellig” that is an emotion we don’t have a word for. So you can make your house “gezellig” by having lots of table lamps and tealights (strictly no overhead lights). A sociable meal with friends and family is also “gezellig”. My mother also used to say it was “gezellig” whenever I used to pop over for coffee. The Danes have stolen a march on this idea with “hygge”, but I can assure you that I’ve been using “gezellig” long before “hygge” became fashionable!
Patricia Feinberg Stoner is presenting an extract of her award winning book. ‘
I’m so pleased to be able to share 
It was clearly old, very old. It was clearly cobbled together out of what had been two houses. It rose slab-fronted from the street, acres of decaying, yellowish crépis (plaster) bisected by sundry phone and electricity cables. A ridiculous stone staircase flanked by a stunted tree rose ungracefully to a pocket-handkerchief front terrace littered with debris and encrusted with cat droppings.
Patricia and her husband Patrick are spending the summer in their holiday home in the Languedoc village of Morbignan la Crèbe. One hot Friday afternoon Patrick walks in with the little dog, thinking she is a stray. They have no intention of keeping her.
‘
Today, I attended the Bennet household. Alas, Elizabeth was not at home. I was rather shocked to be greeted by her father, Mr Bennet. I did not see a servant.
Finally, he asked the parlour maid to show me into the library. Strangely, every book on the shelves has been penned by a Jane Austen. I was most impressed with a book entitled, ‘
Lost in Austen’s books, I read until the clock struck four and my stomach rumbled. Venturing into the corridor, surprised that the house was silent, I decided to depart. A Miss Austen opened the door and insisted on my company. She informed me that Mr Bennet lives in her imagination, but he had been seen loitering on the doorstop on many occasions.
Amused by my breeches, Miss Austen invited me to take tea with her. She smiled when I explained they are cropped trousers. We sat in a very modest parlour. The maid served tea and a buttered apple tart. Delighted that her books had made me forget time, Miss Austen commented that. ‘…for my own part, if a book is written well, I always find it too short.’
As it is almost the weekend, I have asked Jan Brigden to present an extract from her romance novel, ‘
I am delighted to present ‘
As much as he hated how big-headed it sounded, even to himself, he was used to people staring at him. Fact. He also knew that what had happened back there was in no way premeditated on her part; the deep blush and dip of her head when he’d first spoken to her had told him that. How small she’d tried to make herself appear during the ensuing chaos in reception, standing there nervously pulling on the bottom of her ponytail, looking so desperately sorry.
When Rebecca’s friend Abi convinces her to get away from it all at the fabulous Hawksley Manor hotel in York, it seems too good to be true. Pampering and relaxation is just what Rebecca needs to distract herself from the creeping suspicion that her husband, Greg, is hiding something from her.
Jan is a South London-dwelling all-round book devotee, married to Dave, and one eighth of online-writing group The Romaniacs