Writer, photographer, social critical artist,
musician, and occasional actress, J. Arlene Culiner, was born in New York and
raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived in a
Hungarian mud house, a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, on a Dutch
canal, and in a haunted house on the English moors. She now resides in a
400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest and, much to local
dismay, protects all creatures, especially spiders and snakes. She particularly
enjoys incorporating into short stories, mysteries, narrative non-fiction, and
romances, her experiences in out-of-the-way communities, and her conversations
with strange characters.
Hi Beverley.
Thank you for inviting me here for an author interview. Fire away!
Beverley: Which genre or genres
do you write or prefer to write? And why?
Arlene: Oops. Not a good question. I love writing
romance, but I also enjoy writing mystery. That’s not all though: I’m quite
passionate about researching and writing Eastern European history, or about the
evolution in rural French life. Quite a mix. But each genre is quite wonderful.
I also have a storytelling podcast (see below).
Beverley: Who influenced you the
most in deciding to become a writer?
Arlene: I suppose I can only say I influenced myself.
I’ve always kept notes and diaries because I’m a contemporary artist and
photographer, and that’s the sort of thing we artists do. Then, one day, I
decided to try writing romance novels. After a few refusals (my main characters
were in their sixties, and that was a no-no in the romance genre a few years
ago) my book, Felicity’s Power was
accepted by an Australian publisher who was looking for later life romances. A
little while later, at one of my photography exhibitions I told the curator
about my next project — Romanian immigration to Canada in 1899. She suggested I
write about it instead. So I did, and my book, Finding Home in the Footseteps of the Jewish Fusgeyers, won a prize
in Canadian history.
Beverley: What gets your creative
juices flowing?
Arlene: Thinking of an atmosphere. The thought moves
around in my head, shifts here and there before blossoming into a story.
Beverley: Do you have a favorite
cartoon character? Why?
Arlene: I don’t know much about cartoon characters. I’ve
never owned a television. However I do like caricatures. Here’s one of my own:
Beverley: Who would you love most
to meet 'in person' and why?
Arlene: I’ve recently completed a biography of a
Jewish-Ukrainian poet, songster, and tippler who died in 1875. He spent his
life wandering through Austrian Galicia, Romania, and the Ottoman Empire. I’d
certainly like to tag along with him, drink some of the red wine he was so fond
of, and see that vanished world. What an experience that would be!
Beverley: If you had an
unexpected free day what would you do with it?
Arlene: I’d do what I do every day. I’d write, or play
music (I play the oboe, English horn, flute, recorder, and tuba in several
orchestras, bands, and chamber groups.) Or else I’d take one of the lovely
ancient sunken green lanes that crisscross all of Europe, and just walk from
village to village.
Beverley: What are you working on
now?
Arlene: I’m working on the third romance book in my
Blake’s Folly series. In this, we begin in 1899 when Blake’s Folly is a silver
boomtown, see it in 1927 when the mines have closed and people are leaving, in
the 1950s as a Nevada divorce paradise, in the 1970s, and in 2020 when it has
become a semi-ghost town, and is the setting for my two romances, All About Charming Alice, and Desert Rose.
Blurb for Desert Rose
Men
love Rose Badger, and if the other inhabitants of dead-end Blake’s Folly,
Nevada, don’t approve, she couldn’t care less. Isn’t life for fun? Doesn’t a
stable relationship always mean predictability and boredom? Well… perhaps
things might be different with Jonah Livingstone, but he’s entangled in a
complicated past relationship and off limits for anything other than
friendship. Besides, Rose has another secret life—one she’ll never give up for
any man.
The last person geologist Jonah Livingstone expected to meet in a semi-ghost
town is Rose Badger. She’s easy-going, delightfully spontaneous, and Jonah is certain
their attraction is mutual. But Rose is always surrounded by a crowd of
admirers and doesn’t seem inclined to choose a favorite. Besides, Jonah is
leading his own very private life, and secrets are an excellent protection
against love.
Trailer:
http://www.j-arleneculiner.com/page-2-book5-desert2.html
Blurb for All About Charming Alice
Alice
Treemont has given up hope of meeting the right man and falling in love. Living
in Blake’s Folly, a semi-ghost town of rusting cars, old trailers, clapboard
shacks, and thirsty weeds, she spends her time cooking vegetarian meals,
rescuing unwanted dogs, and protecting the most unloved creatures on earth:
snakes. What man would share those interests?
Jace Constant
is in Nevada, doing research for his new book, but he won’t be staying long. As
far as he’s concerned, Blake’s Folly is hell on earth. He’s disgusted by desert
dust on his fine Italian shoes, and dog hair on his cashmere sweaters. As for
snakes, they terrify him. He can hardly wait to get back to Chicago’s elegant
women, fine dining, and contemporary art exhibitions.
So how is it
possible that each time Alice and Jace meet, the air sizzles? That she’s as
fascinated by him as he is by her. That they know their feelings go deeper than
raw desire. Still, it looks like this relationship is doomed before it even
starts.
Trailer:
http://www.j-arleneculiner.com/page-2-book1-alice2.html
Excerpt from All About Charming
Alice:
Suddenly Jace rose to his feet and, in
that languid way of his, crossed to the doorway where she stood. Alice was a
tallish woman but, still, he towered over her. Casually, stretching out one
arm, he rested his hand on the doorframe, just a hair’s breadth above her head.
He was close, so close. His body was supple, strong and—yes, she had to admit
it—warm, fragrant. The heat of him reached her over the few inches separating
them and she ached to curve into it. Aura? This man was a flesh-and-blood heat
wave.
The strange, tingling excitation was
flowing through her again like thick port wine. She lowered her eyes, refusing
to meet his gaze, although she knew he was, once again, examining her minutely.
“And I want to take the room.”
“Look, you don’t need my room,” she
said, desperation evident in her tone. “There’s a perfectly reasonable motel
the other side of the Winterback Mine, out in the direction of Logan. Actually,
it’s far better equipped to take in tourists than anything you’d find here in
Blake’s Folly.”
“I know. Rider Motel. Air conditioning,
closed circuit television. Right across from the Dew Drop Inn.” His smile was
wry. “That’s exactly where I’ve been staying for the last three nights. And
over and over again during those three nights I remembered Blake’s Folly and
the ‘room to let’ sign on your wall. And the more I thought about it, the more
appealing it got. There’s nothing worse than an impersonal motel room when you
have to stay in an area for a while.” He paused, let his eyes wander over the
faded wooden framing, over the settee on the veranda. “Right here, it feels
more like home.”
That wasn’t it, she knew. That wasn’t
even part of the truth. He was back because something hot and wonderful
shimmered between them. Did she fascinate him as much as he did her? Possibly.
Although she hadn’t done anything to encourage him, not even once. It would
have been hard to find anyone less friendly than she’d been.
Still, there was something about him
that touched her, something that had nothing to do with raw desire. Was it the
warmth in his eyes? A quirk to his lips that promised humor and understanding?
Or was it just plain magic, the magic that happens when the right female meets
the right male? Whatever it was, she’d been unsuccessful in putting him out of
her head for days.
She knew she was softening.
He must have sensed that too, and he
pushed his point further. “Everyone, or almost everyone, needs the feeling
there’s home somewhere. I’m sure you understand that.”
She nodded slowly, reluctance fighting
with sympathy. “What are you doing in the area?”
And
immediately felt the flush crossing her cheeks. She didn’t want to be
interested in him. She wanted to blot him out. She’d opened her mouth,
intending to refuse him, but the question had popped out instead. And that had
opened the door to conversation. He’d realized it too, and she could almost
feel his body relax with relief.
“I’m
working on a book on the Old West, so I’ll be poking around the area for a
while.”
Alice couldn’t help smiling. “Blake’s
Folly's a great place for history. Lucy Warner’s pig gave birth to fifteen piglets
once. That was back in thirty-two, I think.”
His eyes met hers evenly. “Nineteen
thirty-three. The fifth of August. A hot month for hard work like that.” He
gave a short laugh. “Nothing important gets past us serious researchers.”
Suddenly there was a loud thump
followed by a wild scraping of claws. Seconds later, a huge black dog thrust
itself past Alice and threw itself against Jace, almost knocking him backward.
“Killer!
Down!”
Killer wriggled like an eel, danced a
doggie jig on the veranda floor and still managed to stare up at Jace with
supplication. He was ecstatic.
Jace bent down and gingerly patted
Killer’s head, then looked back up at Alice with slight embarrassment.
“Normally I never pat dogs. I never
understood why anyone would want to.” He observed Killer again. “There’s pure
adoration in his eyes. It gets to me, somehow.”
Killer
nestled in closer, wagging his long, seedy-looking tail wildly, and Jace patted
him again, this time with more tenderness.
Alice felt herself relenting. She loved
animals—any animal: dogs, cats, rabbits. And snakes.
And this man was touching her too much.
Far too much. She had to bring her defenses back into play. “That isn’t the way
a dog normally reacts when he meets a total stranger.”
Jace met her semblance of hostility
with his limpid green gaze. “I’m not a total stranger. I fed him my packed
lunch the other day, remember?” He looked down at Killer, grinned ruefully. “I
still didn’t know why I stopped for him. Anyway, we’ve been through all this already.
And, as I said, I’m here about the room.”
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