Please welcome Claudia Riess author of False Light: An Art History Mystery
Claudia Riess will be awarding a $50 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter via rafflecopter during the tour.
False Light: An Art History Mystery
by Claudia Riess
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GENRE: Mystery
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INTERVIEW:
1) My father used to ad lib bedtime stories starting when I was about five years old. They were riotous; had the opposite effect of lullabies. He also read me all the works of A. A. Milne, and even then I recognized the author’s delicious wit, his ability to define a character with a smattering of dialogue. Who knew then that these deeply embedded memories would inspire me to write one day? Only in retrospect can I acknowledge them as influences. Other inspirations have come sporadically: When I read Sebastian Barry’s A Long Long Way, I was mesmerized at the start by a description of the ravages of war. The paragraph was a tone poem, moving and strikingly real. It took my breath away. Philip Roth has at times affected me deeply, the way he cuts to the heart of the matter so effortlessly, as in Everyman. It’s not that great writers inspire me to write like them. They simply inspire me to write. I hear music; I want to sing.
2) I’m a stickler for historical accuracy and an incurable romantic, so I guess the genre of my art history mysteries is a hybrid. My fiction tweaks history by posing situations that mighthave occurred—between the lines, so to speak. I imagine how these events have impacted the present with baffling crimes and then set my sleuths, Erika Shawn, art magazine editor and Harrison Wheatley, art history professor, to the task of unraveling the mysteries. At the same time, their romance evolves, runs into obstacles, is tested.
3) For False Light, the second in the series, I wanted to tackle a crime involving art forgery. I downloaded articles and came up with a reference to master forger, Eric Hebborn. What drew me in was an adjective used to characterize him: mischievous. I decided on the spot to invent a brain teaser on his behalf, one I imagined would have been right up his alley and that would, posthumously, lead to murder. I read his book, Drawn to Trouble, so I would get to know both the man and his art.
4) My interest in art began with excursions to museums at an early age, and is bound up in an organic sense to family. My father favored representational art; my mother argued the case for abstractionism; I happily joined the fray. My brother became an art history professor and recommended books I should read, like George Bull’s Michelangelo. Intermittently, I’ve edited art monographs. Knowledge expands with interest and application.
5) Three years ago, I lost my husband to a debilitating illness. During the last months I read spy mysteries to him and he read my work in progress. The writing process and our mutual experience with the written word provided both an escape and a safe haven for us, enriching our ever-diminishing time together.
6) For the next few months I’ll be finishing up the third art mystery, Knight Light, due for release in the fall. The pivotal plot point is an unearthed letter (fiction) written in 1946 by Alexander Alekhine, world chess champion (real), in which he alludes to art looted during Germany’s occupation of Paris. The letter’s discovery leads to murder, and Erika and Harrison are driven to solve it as well as the mystery of lost art.
11) The most memorable advice I ever got was from Sol Stein of the erstwhile
Stein and Day publishing company. Sol had bought my first book, and
was demanding I change a word in the phrase “noesis with the waves.” I insisted it
was the only word that expressed exactly what I wanted to say. “I don’t
care!” he cried. “Nobody’ll know what the word means and it comes on page 3!
You have to learn to kill the baby!” Harsh image, but I got the point. I changed
the word to “fascination” and for days it bothered me. Later I realized how selfish it
had been to dismiss the reader for the benefit of my ego. The lesson stuck.
12) Book planning can be organized chaos. I get an idea and jump right in. After the
prologue or chapter 1, I jot down a sequence of events to come on 5x7 cards. Much
of this is changed, rejected, ignored. When I’m on my stationery rower or elsewhere,
bits of dialogue, plot twists, plot inconsistencies (!) pop into mind. I scribble them
on pages torn from yellow pads and toss them on top of my computer for later
consideration.
16) It’s not that I set out to put a humorous twist on dialogue, but sometimes the
characters take me there, while I act as referee. It might seem contradictory, but
humor can highlight the core reality of plot and character development, even
their most serious aspects.
BLURB:
Academic sleuths Erika Shawn, art magazine editor, and Harrison Wheatley, a more seasoned art history professor, set out to tackle a brain teaser. This time the couple—married since their encounter in Stolen Light, first in the series—attempt to crack the long un-deciphered code of art forger Eric Hebborn (1934-1996), which promises to reveal the whereabouts of a number of his brilliant Old Master counterfeits. (Hebborn, in real life, was a mischievous sort, who had a fascination with letters and a love-hate relationship with art authenticators. I felt compelled to devise a puzzler on his behalf!) After publication of his memoir, Drawn to Trouble, published in 1991, he encrypts two copies with clues to the treasure hunt. On each of the title pages, he pens a tantalizing explanatory letter. One copy he sends to an art expert; the second, he releases into general circulation. The catch: both books are needed to decipher the code.
When the books are at last united 25 years later, Erik and Harrison are enlisted to help unearth their hidden messages. But when several research aides are brutally murdered, the academic challenge leads to far darker mysteries in the clandestine world of art crime. As the couple navigate this sinister world, both their courage under fire and the stability of their relationship are tested.
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EXCERPTS :
Owen Grant was ebullient—“ripped with joy,” his beloved wife might have said. He smiled, remembering the flutter of her eyelids that accompanied her minted phrases. Now that she had died and his arthritis no longer permitted him to jog up a sweat, he satisfied his lust for life—which remained, five years after retirement, as vigorous as it had been in his teens—with voracious reading and clay sculpting. Today, however, he satisfied it with the Art and Antiques article that had set his heart racing when he’d come across it this morning while sifting through his mail. He stole another glance at the newsletter on the kitchen table. In the article, a used and rare book shop owner spoke about having acquired a copy of a memoir by Eric Hebborn, the infamous art forger. “It was in a carton I picked up at an estate sale,” the owner had said. “The author’s handwritten note on the title page literally blew my mind!”
Hebborn’s note was displayed in a photograph. Owen had recognized the handwriting at once. Imagine, after decades of searching for this copy of the book—placing ads in all the art magazines, later in their online versions, finally giving up—proof of it had fallen into his life as he was about to venture another sip of his scalding morning coffee.
Now it was 8:30 p.m., and there was nothing more to prepare for. Owen had contacted the shop owner—how young and breathless she had sounded!—and they had made plans to meet. He had invited his longtime friend and colleague, Randall Gray, to collaborate with him. Randall, twenty years his junior and still in the game, was more current in his knowledge of the world of art crime and eager to have a look at the book as well. Owen was on a skittering high, unable to concentrate on his usual avocations. Rather than wear a hole in the carpet pacing in circles, he opted for a walk in Central Park.
He headed for the nearest pedestrian entrance at Fifth Avenue and 72nd Street, two blocks from his luxury apartment building on 74th. There, he chose the rambling path leading to the Lake and Loeb Boathouse. It was a balmy night, on the warm side for mid-April. He might have stepped out in his shirtsleeves, but his conditioned urbanity, always at odds with his truer self, had held sway, and he had worn his suit jacket.
Aside from the couple strolling up ahead and the sound of laughter coming from somewhere south, Owen was alone. There had been an uptick of muggings lately, but his frisson of fear only piqued his excitement for the adventure shimmering on the horizon. As he walked, he silently chatted with his wife, Dotty, as he often did, so that their separation would not be absolute. He commented on the moonless night and looked up, for both of them, at the rarely visible canopy of stars. For a few seconds he was lost with her, until, without warning, he felt a hard object pressed against the back of his skull—the skull that held all memories, like Dotty’s fluttering eyelids and the smell of new clay. He knew what the object was without ever having touched one. He was a man of reason, not a fighter. He flung up his hands. “I have money. Let me get to it.”
There was no response. He reached into his pocket for his wallet—how warm the leather was against his thigh—and his keys jangled of homecomings, and the child in him whimpered please no, before the explosive pop of a champagne cork ended him and Dotty and all the rest of it.
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AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Claudia Riess, a Vassar graduate, has worked in the editorial departments of The New Yorker and Holt, Rinehart, and Winston and has edited several art history monographs.
Buy Link:
The book is on sale for only $0.99 during the tour.
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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE:
PLEASE MENTION THE PRIZE THAT THE AUTHOR WILL BE GIVING AWAY:
Claudia Riess will be awarding a $50 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter via rafflecopter during the tour.
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f3362
