Book Giveaway: An Impartial Witness

We here in the Prodigal Household are big fans of mysteries, as many of you know, and we always have our eyes peeled for a good one! Now, with Prodigal Wife's love of anything historical and my fascination with World War I, we're both anxious to get our hands on Charles Todd's new book, An Impartial Witness. And thanks to HarperCollins, we can now offer all our bloggy friends two free copies of Bess Crawford's second adventure!

This book is barely out but great reviews are already pouring in (OK, green-eyed monster, get back in the closet):
"intricate twists and plenty of viable suspects" (Publishers Weekly)
A "plucky, determined sleuth and a thrilling mystery" (Library Journal)
“A smartly plotted, well-told mystery.” (Booklist on An Impartial Witness )

Here is what the publisher says:

Tending to the soldiers in the trenches of France during the First World War, battlefield nurse Bess Crawford is sent back to England in the early summer of 1917 with a convoy of severely burned men. One of her patients, a young pilot, has clung to a photograph of his wife since his plane went down, and Bess can’t help but notice the photo every time she tends to him. After the patients are transferred to a clinic in Hampshire, Bess is ready for her two-day leave, planning to return to her flat in London to catch up on some much-needed rest. But at the railway station, in a mob of troops leaving for the front, Bess catches a glimpse of a familiar face. Could that be the pilot’s wife? And why is she bidding a very emotional farewell to a soldier who is not her husband?

Back in France, Bess discovers an old newspaper with a drawing of the woman’s face on the front page. Accompanying the drawing is a plea from Scotland Yard looking for information from anyone who has seen her. The woman was murdered-the very day Bess saw her at the terminal. Granted leave to visit Scotland Yard to report what she knows, Bess soon finds herself on the search for a devious and very dangerous killer-a search that will put her own life in jeopardy.

Sounds appealing, yes? If you want to try your hand at one of the two free copies, just leave a comment below before September 15. If you wish, you may earn additional entries in the following ways:
*post/tweet/share this giveaway
*tag my own little tome, A Yank Back to England, on Amazon -- England, memoir, travel, travelogue, and travelogues PLEASE!
*if you've already tagged Yank (THANK YOU!), tagging the Kindle edition works too!
*put Yank on your shelf in Goodreads, Shelfari, or LibraryThing. (one entry each)
*TWO entries if you vote for Yank on Goodreads' Favourite Travel Book list or Have Passport will Travel or Best Traveling Vicariously (FIVE if you do all 3)

That's it! Oh--US only please, sorry. And if we don't have your email yet, please leave it so we can contact you if you win. Winners will be announced on September 16, at which time you'll have 48 hours to send us your address, which we will pass along to HarperCollins.
Good luck everyone!

"All I want for Christmas..."

Cousin Kevin writes that Santa came early this year, and that he and the charming Maxine are taking turns reading (he said "fighting over it"). You'll notice the suprisingly healthful drink next to him, but Kev says he's going to make up for that tomorrow, when he goes for a traditional English meal: A Curry.
What is on our wishlist this Christmas? Many more photos like this one...

Up Front with Victor Spinetti

I spent a long and languid weekend in the wise, compassionate, and tremendously funny company of an old friend. I’ve just finished reading Victor Spinetti’s Up Front! As I turned the pages of this terrific (and quite salty) autobiography, I recalled many of the stories Victor used to tell about the famous folk who became his friends—the Beatles, of course, but also Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Marlene Dietrich, Sean Connery, just for starters. And I remembered with great pleasure how he used to perform those outrageous vignettes with devastatingly spot-on impersonations!
Reading about Joan Littlewood was a treat for me. She was my theatre hero (Oh, What a Lovely War! A Taste of Honey). Victor kindly arranged for me to meet her. My writing mentor, American director Cy Endfield, insisted on coming along too. He hadn’t seen Joan in years. He told me, it was Joan, Victor, and the rest of Theatre Workshop who were creating a relevance in theatre when he first came to Britain in the Fifties, something modern theatre still strives for today but rarely achieves.
But the book is much more than just a reiteration of show biz stories. I got to know the young Victor. The racism he experienced, the kindness he was shown, the harshness of life in the Welsh valleys and the sheer bloody mindedness he dealt with so very close to home. Like Up Front, Victor is, and always has been, refreshingly real. I know that for a fact. He never played “the star” when we worked together many years ago.
I am convinced anyone reading Up Front will feel they are not just reading a smashing book but making a wonderful (though outrageous) friend in the process. For me, I feel I have rekindled a friendship. I am so glad Victor wrote the book. So pleased to have read it. So chuffed to have spent so much time in an old friend’s great company, once again. Victor, it was a wonderful weekend!

Finally back in Broadstairs

“Look, that’s where Dickens stayed,” I enthused. “And that’s where he wrote The Pickwick Papers! There! D’you see? There’s a blue plaque.”
No one cared.
At the end of the High Street, the sea suddenly appeared, then disappeared from view. We turned onto Albion Street, gaily painted with double yellow lines and decorated with sporadic meters and lots of no-parking signs.
“There’s nowhere to park! Brilliant, bloody brilliant!”
Then, just past the harbor pub, The Tartar Frigate, I was relieved to find a waterfront car park tucked into the lea of a cliff. I stopped the car, got out, and stretched my legs. The harbor, originally built by Henry the Eighth, jutted out like a giant, slightly curved anvil, protecting its brightly colored, bobbing fishing fleet, a few waves away from a crescent beach, the pristine footprint of Vikings Bay.
“What do you think, not bad, eh? At the end of the harbor, we can even buy some cockles and winkles for tea!” I said, happy again.