Showing posts with label Erika Rummel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erika Rummel. Show all posts

Sunday, 30 September 2018


#NOBEL – THE NOVEL! JUST OUT: THREE WOMEN AND ALFRED NOBEL.



My new novel, based on the correspondence between Nobel and his Viennese mistress (A NOBEL AFFAIR, published 2017) has just appeared from Endeavour.

Three women are after Nobel: Ida wants revenge for the death of her lover, who has been killed in an accident at Nobel’s dynamite factory. Sophiewants compensation for the abuse she suffered as Nobel’s mistress. Bertie wants Nobel to atone for his lethal invention and spend the profit on a Peace Prize.

Set in fin-de-siècle Vienna, THREE WOMEN AND ALFRED NOBEL exploresthe social constraints placed on women, the traumatic effects of war on soldiers, and the ethnic tensions that lead to the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy.

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

THE PAINTING ON AUERPERG'S WALL has been launched! 



Erika Rummel reading at McNally's Bookstore





PRAISE FROM THE REVIEWERS:
"Sexual obsession, mysterious art, dysfunctional family, and corrosive 205h entury history come seamlessly together in this fast-paced psychological thriller" (Michael Mirolla)

"Taut, fast-moving novel...The reader must puzzle over the way family secrets create false identities just as doubts about provenance destabilize the legitimacy of a work of art" (Charlotte Furth)

Saturday, 6 February 2016

#AMREADING ERIKA RUMMEL, THE INQUISITOR’S NIECE.
Rummel, Inquisitor's Niece


Yes, I’m reading the final proofs of my forthcoming novel, The Inquisitor’s Niece, the story of a taboo relationship between a Jew and a Christian, set in inquisitorial Spain. Here is a teaser:

Public executions always fetched a good crowd. People craned their heads to see the expression on the faces of the trio of heretics, an old Jew and two youths - his sons presumably - bareheaded and shirtless, their backs bloodied by the lash, their hands and feet shackled. They were transported in an open cart for all to see, to be vilified, cursed and spit on. The crowd was in a holiday spirit, merry and boisterous. Boys were hawking chestnuts, dried fruit and sugared almonds. A band of blind musicians was playing their guitars. A juggler performed tricks with coloured balls. Harlots were doing brisk business.
The crowd was jostling for the best spots from which to watch the spectacle. There was excitement in the air when the heretics were dragged to the pyre and tied to the stake.  A joyful shout went up when the executioner put a torch to the kindling, and for a moment the cheers and jeers drowned out the agonized shrieks of the men at the stake. The crowd watched them writhing as the smoke and the licking flames enveloped their bodies, and the fumes and the pain overcame first the old man and then his companions. Their bodies slackened, the roaring fire ate through the ropes that tied them to the stake, and they dropped to the ground. For a while an up-drift of air made it look as if they were waving their limbs in desperation, then the bodies turned into a darkly glowing heap, shapeless lumps seen through a curtain of fire.
The flames had hardly died down before souvenir-seekers started raking the hot ashes for keepsakes and carried off the bones to grind up and hawk as magic powder. Alonso watched them in cold horror. The spectacle made Alonso’s skin crawl. It was an evil omen. Was this the fate that awaited his father?


You can pre-order the book from the publisher at: http://www.bygoneerabooks.com/#!inquisitors-niece/co4k