When Eleanor Morrissey leaves Kildoran on a dark September night in 1930, nobody is sorry to see her go and nobody expects to see her return. As far as the villagers are concerned, the Morrisseys have been shamed out of town forever. Fifty years later, some visitors attend the funeral of the convent’s Mother Superior. When the funeral is over, one woman stays behind. Until she is free to leave again, she must struggle to understand her legacy – a legacy of voices. Threatening, angry, accusing voices that only she can hear, because they are soft voices. Whispering.

Adrienne says…

As a cradle Catholic I never questioned the authority of the women who controlled my education. These were God’s wives, above question, certainly beyond criticism. Then I grew up and the questions began.

It is fashionable now, not just to ask the questions but also to call to account. I don’t need to do that. There were great women and there were awful women and they both played their parts.
What is the theme of the book? I suppose it’s to do with fear of the truth and the fact that until we face up to it, we can never find peace. It’s about why we hide things from others and ourselves. Penance and Redemption and a good story well told!

Reviews

The third book from Dublin-born Adrienne Dines, Soft Voices Whispering will appeal to anyone who can’t wait until the next Maeve Binchy comes along. Adrienne Dines is a name to watch out for in the future. - RTE Entertainment

I loved the intertwining of sombre gothic elements with strands of comedy. Also the evocation of a bit of Ireland I’ve visited a few times now you know all these stories are bubbling away in these communities and are never but never going to reveal themselves to you. Your dialogue zips along too and I kept thinking how well it would work on the radio. Has anyone at Transita sent it to Woman’s Hour? It would serialise wonderfully!  - Patrick Gale

This redemption tale of good people who have bad things done to them is a well-written page-turner with wonderful characterisation.  - Nottingham Evening Post

“Another compelling read from Adrienne Dines. Among a gallery of memorable, well-drawn characters the nun, Sister Pius, stands out as a moving creation. Pius’ relationship with her ne’er-do-well brother Patrick is a miracle of subtle characterisation and there’s much food for thought here for reading groups.
Hard to put down and impossible to forget, this is a book with a big heart. “ - Amazon Review

“I read this book on holidays and was annoyed at having to put it down to do holiday activities with my family. This is one of those special books that you get lost in. It is in my top five books ever read and I loved every page right from the start. Adrienne, I look forward to more”. - Reader review on Transita Website

The basic business at the core of this book is a difficult topic– violence to women. Adrienne Dines handles it well, though, with sensitivity to both the characters involved and to the reader. This is a novel about love, both the light and dark sides of it. It is set in a small village in Ireland and the story moves between 1980 and 1930. The characters are well drawn and unfold like early spring blossoms to reveal their fullness as the story goes on. Well done!  - Bookcrossing Review 5*

When stranger Jim Nealon walks into Lizzie Flynn’s shop and proposes that she help him make his beautiful jigsaws, Lizzie agrees. It’s a project she can fit into her humdrum life without making too many changes. She’s about to turn fifty – she could do with the distraction.

Then Jim shows her the photos he intends to use.  Now the settled picture that was lizzie’s life is in the air. Falling in a thousand different pieces.  As she scrambles to put her life back together again, Lizzie is startles to realize that it can’t be done.  It was never a whole picture anyway. Too many of the pieces didn’t fit. And one piece is missing…

Adrienne says…

Who is The Jigsaw Maker? It could be any one of three people.

It could be Jim Nealon, photographer, who with his keen eye has noticed something about tourists:  what they come to look at and what they come to look for are two different things. What they look at are the places their ancestors looked at too – grand cathedrals, castles – the pieces of our common heritage.  And the pictures of these they take home in their cameras. What they look for are the private places, the places where their ancestors lived, belonged, died and the pictures of those they take home in their hearts.

Jim’s idea is to capture the image of these hidden places and make jigsaw puzzles with them.  Then he’ll sell with it a living memory of what it was like to be there, on a particular day, during a particular year. And the year he chooses to recall is 1969, when Lizzie Flynn was 11 years old.

It could be Lizzie Flynn, shop owner, spinster, who lives a very settled life in the village where she was born.  Every event in her life that touched her became part of the picture of who she is and those events are locked in her past like the pieces of a tight- fitting jigsaw.  She intends to keep them that way – till Jim shows her the first photograph and then it’s too late.

In trying to recall a memory so that others can feel part of it, Lizzie is forced to re-examine her own memories and what she realises is that what she saw then is not what she is seeing now.  There are flaws in the jigsaw picture of her life; pieces are in the wrong place and one vital piece is missing.
Lizzie Flynn is not who she thought she was at all.

Before assembling a jigsaw, all the pieces have to be visible and that’s how this book works.  The reader is shown all the events that shape Lizzie’s perception of who she is exactly as she witnessed them and it is up to the reader to work with her as she tries to put it all together again.

Ultimately, the reader is The Jigsaw Maker.

Reviews

The pieces fit together very well indeed.’ - Fay Weldon 

‘A brilliant follow up to Adrienne Dines’ debut Toppling Miss April… Well plotted and very enjoyable.’ - Lovereading.co.uk

‘This seemingly light novel has a dark underbelly – a complex tale of secrets and lies.’ - Irish Examiner 

‘An engaging story.’ - Newbooks Magazine 

‘A seemingly light book till dark undercurrents, secrets and lies from the past resurface and shake the foundations of Lizzy Flynn’s quiet life – what a treat!’   - Heavenali BX

‘Loved this book.  As the dual narrative of past events began to unfold, I became completely involved in the novel and the raw and painful emotional life of Lizzie Flynn.’ 9/10 - LindyB28 BX

5* Amazon Reviews

‘This book was a delight to read, it is wonderfully written and the characters really came alive as the story progressed. It was compelling right from the start but towards the end it became a real page-turner as I was anxious to know what was lying ahead. There were so many unexpected twists too!’

’Put this one down if you can – THE JIGSAW MAKER intrigues at first, then amuses. Finally it grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. A tender portrayal of a lively, troubled child who grows into a guilt-ridden woman, unable to make sense of tragedy she has witnessed, possibly even caused. Dines juggles comedy and drama with ease, racking up almost unbearable tension in the last 100 pages. The plot is clever, the characters likeable and the pace never flags. This is a hugely enjoyable and accomplished 2nd novel and I can’t wait to see what Dines will come up with next.’

Twenty years ago, when Father Barry ruled the Tullabeg roost, Bernadette Teegan and Monica Moran vied for his attention. Life was a maelstrom of mixed emotions and misplaced extremities – two young girls with plenty to learn. Then Monica went away and life settled down.

Now Monica is back.

And Bernadette has no intention of making it a happy visit. She has plans – to snare the most eligible bachelor in town, Cormac Hegarty, Estate Agent, and keep nephew Michael’s soul (and overalls) spotless.

But Monica has plans too.

A comedy of errors, misdirection and cross-wired agendas, TOPPLING MISS APRIL is a triumph of flesh over fantasy, where menopause is just a pause between men and experience counts for everything.

Adrienne says…

The original remit for this story was to write something’ upbeat and outrageous’ that would serve to get attention as a first novel. I planned to write a murder story. The first line would be ‘Imelda Hegarty had six brothers and at the age of 50 realized that Monica Moran had had them too.’  Then Monica and Imelda would travel around Ireland ascertaining to what extent association with Monica destroyed the lives of each of the brothers.

Unfortunately, Bernadette Teegan had other ideas.

She was only ever a bit-part character, useful for making tea but when she squeaked onto the page in her Hush-Puppies it was out of my hands. It became a twisted love story, a tale of two beautiful women, rendered beautiful not because of what others saw when they looked at them but what they realized when they looked at themselves.

‘Miss April”, the conventional idea of what makes a woman beautiful, is well and truly  toppled.

Reviews

‘A cross between Father Ted and Ballykissangel…hilarious!’ - Irish Examiner

‘Toppling Miss April is a mélange of hilarious misunderstandings and risqué innuendo, which makes it a pleasure to read.’ - Ireland on Sunday

‘A laugh-out-loud screwball comedy featuring lust, mistaken identity and knitting. This is humour sized 44FF: uncontainably funny.’  - Meg Gardiner

‘An outrageous tale – a ridiculous riot!’ - Irish Independent 

‘At last – a REAL book for real women who’ve lived long enough to know that love is never perfect. This funny-sad Irish novel will restore your faith in human nature and make you realise that the wobbly bits don’t matter!’  - Sharon Kendrick 

“…great opening, clever plotting and lovely characterisation…”  - Marina Oliver

“Full of wonderful characters… I laughed out loud!” - Jan Simpson

‘Loved this book.  The plot was not one bit believable and every stereotype under the sun made an appearance at some point – a good read in a carry on sort of way!’ 8/10 - Smallbluepebble BX

‘Pure farce. The complex plot was lightly woven and carried out admirably…a good rollicking funny read with enough twists and turns to satisfy the most demanding reader with the small details beautifully observed.’  - Lizzybee BX

‘This is a laugh-out-loud read. Misunderstandings & misinterpretations abound, some very unsympathetic characters but I felt this just added to my reading experience.’  9/10 - scotsbookie BX

They said, ‘Put yourself about.’

Now all the talks that were booked eighteen months ago are rolling in and it’s wonderful.  And so different.  Writing is a lonely occupation – hours spent in the head of (frequently) dark and troubled women.  If I don’t get out, these characters become even darker and the whole process oppressive so it’s lovely to go to a bright hall and meet real people.

That’s not to say the characters aren’t real – it’s just that while they are in my head they are real only to me and our exclusive relationship becomes too intense at times.

This week’s bright halls were in East Molesey (for the Ladies Probus Club); Cobham (for the Cedar Club WI) and Ashstead (for the Link Club).   The first was a well polished British Legion Hall – surprisingly spacious and comfortable and I was greeted with the happy news that all but two of the attendees hadn’t heard me before. Hurrrah!  Carte Blanche.  I was conscious of the two who had – had to check that they were entertained.  It was a good sized audience, very responsive and friendly.

I knew the hall the Cedar Club used and it’s a treat to arrive last and find that there’s a space – an accessible one – left for the speaker.

The last hall was St Georges Centre in Ashstead -  arrived at via a circuitous arrangement of roads and roundabouts and impossible signposts.  I challenge anyone who doubts the existence of a God to explain the invention of sat nav.   I also have to thank Gail, whose introduction was so well researched and prepared.   On a freezing night the warmth of her welcome made all the difference…

So was the audience last night.  Trumps Green WI meet in a well appointed Community Hall in Virginia Water and they are a friendly crowd – big age range and great sense of humour.  One lady asked me what they looked like from the front.  She often wondered if they were serious looking, off-putting – not at all. It’s lovely when you know the punchline is coming and you can see by the ripple of shuffling smiles that the audience is anticipating it too.

A young girl came up at the end and talked about her Creative Writing Course and the story she has to write by Friday.  Grace – I hope it goes well.

Today, at Burrhill Golf Club, in Hersham/Weybridge, I met a group of ladies with whom I could easily have spent all day.  In the q&a session following the talk, one asked if  it was true that everyone has a book in him/her.  I said, yes – to an extent – but it’s not aways the same type of book.  Not everyone can, or should, write a novel. Some people have heads full of stories and some have heads full of instructions, or comments or facts.

A lady then put her hand up and said that her husband had recorded some events from their life together but stopped and so she had taken it upon herself to complete the task.  She filled in the gaps with her memories and then lent the manuscript to her daughter to read.  The daughter returned the manuscript and said, ‘No – you’ve got it wrong.  That’s not how it happened…’ and so the mother, enthusiasm quashed, stopped writing.  And it made her SO sad.

It made me cross.

You see, the daughter may have experienced the event too but she cannot dictate how it happened because until her mother tells her, she does not know how it happened to anyone else.  My advice was that the mother’s instinct was right.  Things should be recorded, not because it will tell your chilren in years to come about events but because it will tell them about you – how you experienced them, what you felt, who YOU were.

It’s all down to point of view.

So – write.

‘You ought to get onto Facebook,’ I was told. ‘It’s a great way of keeping up with old friends and letting people know what you’re doing.’

Yea – right.   What I’m doing is chasing my tail and the thought of whittering away hours looking up what other people are doing as they get on with their lives seemed a retrograde step.  The friend who lives five minutes away sends me texts saying that we really have to get together and I say the same to her – and to others. And still we don’t.

Then I got an email. Found you on facebook it said,  Great to see your name but where are the photos? 

I don’t know.  I don’t even know how I managed to get there.  It might be a result of trying to open another email account or maybe a more efficient offspring but there it is – Adrienne Dines Facebook account.  Bizarre.

Then came the friend requests.  I didn’t know whether to click on them – more timewasting courtesy of the ether – but the temptation to have a quick peek is SOO difficult to fight off.  I determined it’d only be for five minutes – just to see what a couple looked like….and another one or two as well.

And it will be for only five minutes.

Says she.

I haven’t ; I’ve gone on the circuit.

Early 2010 has been a frenetic time.  I’ve spoken to WI’s, Wives Fellowships, Women’s Guilds, Soroptimists and various charity organisations and loved every second of it.   I’ve finished A Grand Illusion and sent it off to my agent and wandered around muttering to myself while the threads of the next story weave themselves into memories and impressions in my head.  I’ve given workshops and planned others and all the while the website slept in the background.

Not everyone minded.

There are regular queries from groups looking for a speaker or a tutor and occasionally ( and best of all) people who’ve attended talks and workshops in the past get in touch and say, ‘I did what you advised!  I’ve started/finished the book!’  A couple have even reached the publication stage and to them I say, ‘Well done you!’

Only one query was unsuccesssful so far.  Virginia Water Wine Appreciation Society - your email address isn’t working and my response bounces back with an undeliverable apology.  Can you get in touch again, please?  The answer to your query was, yes.

The first was a trip to Kilkenny in Ireland to watch my father, Tom Phillips, launch a book called In the Shadow of the Steeple.  It’s a compilation of articles written by historians, storytellers and locals who make up the Tullaherin Heritage Society.   This was number 10 in the series and it’s compelling – the sort of book that you read and you can feel your roots and know that they are strong.   It’s societies like this who have the foresight and expertise to commit our stories to paper so that they can be preserved.  Custodians of all our yesterdays – I felt very proud.

The other thing happened last night.  It was the first prizegiving evening for the Elmbridge Literary Festival  – the children’s evening.   The other readers were the poet, Agnes Meadows and the writer Simon Cherry.  I was first to read. It was a poem written by a six-year -old girl and I thought it might be nice (for her!) if I asked her advice beforehand on how to read it.  Very seriously, I read the first couple of lines and said, ‘Is that right?’

She rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I really hadn’t had my Weetabix.

‘Noooo,’ she said, ‘don’t sing it – just say the words!’

Right so.

Later they lined the children up for photographs with the Mayor.  To see a row of small kids, all clutching their certificates, with their chests stuck out so far they looked like chickens was a treat.

Tonight it’s the adults’ turn.  I have to read a story by a talented writer called Terry Ryan. There are a lot of song titles in it. I will not attempt to sing any of them.

I will just say the words…