A Tentative Offering

Author’s Note on Publication of Becoming Mrs Darcy, 1813, Vol. I

When I set out to write Becoming Mrs Darcy, I wished not only to continue Austen’s characters with gentleness and fidelity, but also to echo the very manner in which her great novel first appeared in print. My hope has been that every detail, however small, might pay homage to Pride and Prejudice. It was an ambitious undertaking, and I know too well that to copy every detail was impossible. Yet there are many respectful nods in my book to its timeless inspiration.

Just as Austen’s masterpiece was published in three volumes in 1813, so too will Becoming Mrs Darcy appear in three volumes. The design of the book itself follows the old tradition in ways that readers may at once recognise:

• Chapter Headings: Each new chapter begins with the word CHAPTER followed by Roman numerals, placed neatly in the centre of the page.

• Page Numbers: The page numbers are set at the top, centred, and enclosed in round brackets, as in the early editions.

• Opening Lines: The first line of each chapter, apart from the very first one, begins with a clear indent, a quiet nod to the style of the period.

• Typography and Layout: Wide margins, moderate line length, and a block of evenly aligned text recall the graceful simplicity of nineteenth-century typesetting.

• Font: While an exact match to Austen’s first edition would be practically impossible with modern technology, the font chosen is a very close likeness, carefully selected to resemble the character and size of the original.

• Elegance of Presentation: There is no bold or decorative interruption in the main text; the pages remain as uncluttered and dignified as those that delighted readers in 1813.

I hope that in this small way, Becoming Mrs Darcy may serve not only as a continuation of Elizabeth and Darcy’s journey in words, but, in its form, also as a quiet tribute to our beloved author. It is a tentative offering to mark Jane Austen’s 250th birthday and to honour the immeasurable impact she continues to have upon the world we live in. It is both a continuation and a homage, and I wait with a mixture of hope and hesitation to see whether it will be received in the spirit in which it was written.

Becoming Mrs. Darcy, 1813, Vol. I

Michaelmas, or the Feast of Michael and All Angels, falls upon the 29th of September each year. Standing so near the equinox, the day is bound up with the beginning of autumn, the shortening of daylight, and the ushering in of colder nights. In England it is reckoned one of the “quarter days”, those old and weighty markers of the year. It was commonly said that harvest must be completed by Michaelmas, for the day marked the close of the productive season and the beginning of a new cycle of farming. Magistrates were elected, debts paid, and the university and legal terms began. Perhaps for this very reason, at this very season, Netherfield Park was let at last, and Mr. Bingley took possession of his new country home. With that moment, the train of events most beloved across the world was set in motion, and a story that has never ceased to delight readers everywhere unfolded.

It is only fitting that Becoming Mrs. Darcy, 1813: Volume One is released on this very day.

Happy Michaelmas!

Moley in the Press

This is a proper pleasant surprise!
My colleague at Bateman’s told me “now I know where you get your flair, you are an author”. I didn’t understand what she meant. And she told me that there was an article about me in the local newspaper. I had no idea!!! Thank God, Anne kept a copy and I could pick it up! The picture looks odd, because it had Moley in it, and they cut him off!

Sussex Express – Full Article

Meet Moley and the Mysterious Sea Turtles with Lewes author

By Phil Hewitt

Published 18th Jun 2024, 08:05 BST

Moley and the Mysterious Sea Turtles (published by SDS Media) is the latest book from Lewes author Julia B Grantham (£8.95, available from Amazon).

“This is my second book about Moley, a toy mole, living in Sussex. In the first book Moley spent quite a long while stuck in a box, unwanted and unloved, only hoping about the better things to come. Considering that the first book came out in 2021, at the height of Covid lockdown, we all felt like Moley at that time. Now lockdowns are over we are all travelling again, and, naturally, Moley goes on a journey with his adoptive family too.

“And this holiday comes as a bit of a shock for a little mole. After spending his life in a box and, later, within one house and one garden, only once gathering his wits to cross a small country road, he is taken all the way across the ocean to Florida.

“Working in the field of mental health and psychology, I am very aware about the challenges that change presents to all of us, but particularly to young kids. I think many of them will be able to relate to Moley when he becomes anxious about one thing after another – the sorrow of being separated from his friends, the worry of losing his family at the airport, the fear of flying for the first time. He has many worries, but he overcomes them all. To tell you a secret – he uses a wide range of psychological techniques from mindfulness to CBT, but I tried to make them as inconspicuous as possible. I am sure that the young readers and their parents can learn a lot about Moley’s predicaments without realising that they are learning along the way. But it is not all about worries and fears of course. You don’t go to Florida without some really cool adventures.

“Moley meets a lot of locals – pelicans, crabs and even bats. He needs to make them all work together to protect a local endangered species – green turtles. And it’s not easy with predators, light pollution and human interference. There is a lot on Moley’s hands. Or should I say paws!

“I write what I call true stories. All the characters are real – the toys and animals alike. Moley lives at our house with us. We travelled to Florida and met all the animals I describe in the book there. And not only the animals. Humans too. The Turtle Watch really exists and tries to protect the turtles during their nesting season.

“I think the idea of protecting the planet and all the creatures living on it doesn’t need to be didactic or dull. I tried to raise these important issues in a fun way, through a story of adventures with tongue in cheek humour and laughter. At the end of the book the boy character, Ashley, even adopts a turtle through the WWF. I have no affiliation with WWF, but, if my book gives one family the idea of adopting an animal through them, I’ll be a happy person.

“I wanted to write as long as I remember, but it only came to me in the last ten years that what I want to write most were books for children. I live within easy distance from A A Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood and Kipling’s Batemans. I go every year to Tolkien’s and Lewis’ Oxford and search from London to Scotland for Harry Potter’s places. I think the very air of this land inspires me.”

Link: https://www.sussexexpress.co.uk/whats-on/things-to-do/meet-moley-and-the-mysterious-sea-turtles-with-lewes-author-4661635

A Mole Like No Other: Chapter Two

The Easter Fair

Gripped with panic, the mole’s heart had stopped for a whole minute and then started again, racing fast and loud. He looked around, trying to understand better where he was and to make a plan how to avoid the bin at the end of the day. He was sitting in a line of toys, books, video games and clothes on a wide plastic table inside a large hall. There were other tables around, a stage at the far end and a long banner across the wall with something written on it in big red letters. The mole could read a little bit. He recognised many letters, like E and A, and S and T, but he was so upset right now that he was not able to put the letters together into words.

There were many people, large and small, moving between the tables, chatting happily, buying chocolate eggs and yellow daffodils in tiny brown pots, rummaging through books and toys on the stalls, sometimes choosing one or another but much more often leaving the stalls without taking out their money.

Desperately, the mole scanned the crowd with his tiny eyes for the ONE. The ONE customer who would choose him, pick him up, buy him, the ONE who would save him from going into the bin.

Lorna’s words kept ringing in his ears: “Ugly old mole.”

The more he thought about it, the more he remembered that a long time ago he was meant to have been Lorna’s toy. He was her birthday present from an elderly aunt, but she hadn’t liked him at all and threw him under the bed where he spent days, or maybe years. He remembered how the dust had slowly covered him from head to toe, getting thicker and thicker, like a grey fluffy blanket. He remembered how lonely he had felt and how badly he had wanted to be found and given back to little Lorna. But when, one day, a long brush had caught him and pulled him out, Lorna gave him only one look before throwing him into the box of unwanted things with those hurtful words “ugly old mole”. And – just think about it! – he’d missed her all the time under the bed and wanted to play with her!

The mole was drowning in these unhappy memories that came back to him in a flood, until a customer approached their stall.

The football boots were first to go.

“Like new, just dirty,” said Lorna’s mum. “Only used once or twice.”

‘I know how new they are,’ muttered the mole to himself, vividly remembering the nasty smell that ONE of them had made, pressed against his sensitive nose. ‘Imagine what kind of odour the two of them together must produce!’

The yellow tractor also went quickly, together with an orange cement mixer and a blue digger.

Next was the turn of a whole lot of steam engines with smiling faces. They commanded a high price. ‘How silly is that!’ commented the mole, feeling very jealous of their apparent, but – in his opinion – undeserved popularity. However, he felt ashamed when each of the tiny engines whispered “Goodbye” to him as they disappeared into their buyer’s thick plastic bag.

‘They are rather nice and polite,’ thought the mole, wishing now he’d got to know them better.

The fair was growing busier. The stream of customers at their stall became thick and steady. T-shirts, swimming costumes, Barbie dolls and video games were flying off the table, yet the mole remained.

No one had even picked him up to have a look. No one at all. They didn’t even want to take him as a free gift (for he was now being offered as such to everyone by Lorna).

His spirit was sinking lower and lower and he closed his small beady eyes, for he couldn’t bear scanning the room for the ONE anymore.

He felt desperate.

Sad, lonely and desperate.

When he heard a voice saying “Mummy, look!” the mole did not open his eyes.

He knew the voice was coming from the front of their stall, but he didn’t want to know what the boy was admiring: the collection of football stickers or the last DVD remaining on the table. That is why he was astonished to feel himself being lifted in the air by small hands.

“Isn’t he a bit babyish for you, Ashley?” said Lorna’s mocking voice.

‘Keep quiet, Lorna!’ the mole wanted to scream, but instead closed his eyes even tighter, scared to spook away his luck.

“Oh, he is adorable,” said a new grown-up voice, and the mole opened his eyes.

He was in the hands of a boy, who held him close to his face and looked at him intensely through a pair of glasses.

“Can we buy him?” the boy, whom Lorna had just called Ashley, asked the woman standing next to him. (His mother, deduced the mole.)

“Absolutely,” was her response, “But wait…”

The mole closed his eyes again, dreading the worst – that she would think him ugly and change her mind.

“Look at that soft dinosaur. Isn’t it a pair for the one you have?”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Ashley, and the mole knew that he would be put back on the table and the dinosaur would be chosen instead.

But – no!

Ashley picked the dinosaur up with his free hand and brought her up so that she was right next to the mole. “Can we have her as well?” he asked, hesitantly.

“We can’t leave her lying here alone, can we?” replied his mother, leaning in close and speaking in a whisper.

The mole heard Lorna’s giggle from the other side of the stall. She asked: “Are you still playing with soft toys, Ashley?”

‘Oh, please keep quiet, Lorna,’ pleaded the mole silently, fearing that she might tease Ashley out of his determination to buy him and the dinosaur together, or even either of them.

“We are collecting them, especially the unusual ones,” said Ashley’s mother, with a little wink to her son. “And we’ve never ever seen a mole like this, or any mole at all for that matter. As for the dinosaur, we have her brother at home, so they will be happy to be reunited.”

Lorna’s mother laughed and a couple of pounds was handed over very quickly. Everyone seemed happy (except for Lorna’s brother, who had lost his competition with Lorna on who would make the most money at the fair).

But the mole was happiest of them all.

He was chosen.

He was bought.

He was being carried away to his new home. His adventures had truly begun!

Chapter One

A Book Review Club

East Sussex author offers A Mole Like No Other – Sussex Express

A Mole Like No Other offers a new children’s book from Little Horsted author Julia B Grantham.

By Phil Hewitt, Tuesday, 9th March 2021, 2:04 pm, Sussex Express

“My book is a story of a toy mole who in the beginning doesn’t even have a name. The girl he was given to as a present threw him under the bed with the words ‘an ugly old mole’. Eventually he ended up in a box of unwanted toys and spent quite a bit of time there. But, as it says on the cover, ‘our mole believed that there were better things in store for him and waited for them to happen.’

“In a way, this very much describes the situation we’re all in at the moment. Locked in our homes, hoping for the better things in our future…

“Mercifully for the mole, he’d found a new home, new family and many new friends; and although he hadn’t ventured very far from the garden yet he’d found plenty of adventures. Perhaps, another lesson for us all – life is full of adventures if we allow them to happen, even if only in our own backyard.

“Interestingly, when I started writing the book nothing of this was happening in the world – no pandemic, no lockdowns – because I started it seven years ago. But the message was the same then as it is now – stay optimistic and better things will happen to you.

“It all started with Moley. All the toys and animals, who I describe in the book, are real: Moley, Owlie, the dogs, the dinosaurs, the ducks, even Gordon the limping pigeon. It all actually happened! Yes, the brooding duck, the danger in the garden, the chicken yard across the road – all real things brought to life by a sprinkle of imagination.

“But it all started with Moley, when, many years ago, we bought him at a school fair. Exactly as it happened in the book.

“The main theme is perhaps finding your place in the world. The little mole, once he’d got his new home and a name Moley, is very keen to be heard, to be noticed, and he makes some mistakes trying to achieve it, mainly because he is too eager to prove himself.

“But he is a very helpful mole, who is always the first to rush to help his friends if they are in trouble. He gradually learns the value of teamwork, learns to rely upon his friends and believe in himself too. He actually learns a lot of important lessons in the course of the story – lessons that will be helpful to children in many tricky situations – like starting in a new school, moving home, learning new skills, looking after their personal safety and many others.

“The book is for children age five to ten. It was written as a book to be read to kids by parents, older siblings or carers. And I discovered since it’s been published that it suits perfectly as a bedtime story – one or two chapters at night, leaving children asking for more. Older ones are quite happy to read it by themselves, usually after the parents have already read it to them once.

“There is plenty of humour that would be understood by people of different ages. Children love the adventures and all the silly mistakes the characters make; parents notice more subtle jokes and literary references to famous books. It just works. “

The book is illustrated by Carol Wellart: “She loves painting nature and animals and I was sending her hundreds of photographs of the toys, animals, our garden, the pond – everything.

“And she’s created the pictures that fit the story perfectly and ring true to me every time. It was a very happy collaboration of like-minded people.”

https://www.sussexexpress.co.uk/arts-and-culture/books/east-sussex-author-offers-a-mole-like-no-other-3157593?fbclid

A Mole Like No Other: Chapter One

The Morning of His Life

For as long as he could remember, the mole had been in the box. Dark and stuffy, tightly packed with old things that nobody wanted anymore: mismatched building blocks, cars without wheels, battered ballet shoes, torn books and bright plastic toys that came free with children’s magazines. His nose – and a very sensitive one, if you must know! – was pressed against a smelly football boot. His body was squashed by a big yellow tractor.

Sometimes the mole had vague memories of another life – the bright light of day, sounds of laughter, fast moving cars on the wide roads, people’s faces, unbroken toys and sweet-smelling flowers. But they were hidden so deep in his mind that he couldn’t be sure whether this life had actually happened or he’d only imagined it.

The only other creature he could make out in the box was a small soft dinosaur to his left – still and unresponsive, probably believing itself to be completely extinct and ready to fossilize.

Fortunately, the mole knew better. His eyes were used to the dark and his mind was canny. He was resolved on viewing his life in the box as a hibernation (in simple words, a long winter sleep, but, you see, the mole did not fancy simple words and would never use a short word where a long one would do). He believed that there were better things in store for him and patiently waited for them to happen.

And one morning his patience was rewarded!

In all honesty, he didn’t quite know what time of the day it was, for it was always dark in the box. But as this was the moment his adventures started, he decided to call it “morning”. “The Morning of my Life” was how he referred to it ever after.

That morning the mole woke with a jolt. The box was rising up! It shook from side to side, forcing the mole’s nose so tightly against the smelly football boot that he could hardly breathe. He held his breath for as long as he could, and, when he couldn’t hold it any longer, he gasped. To his surprise, his ever-sensitive nose picked out some freshness in the air that brought a welcome relief from the smell of the old boot.

From this limited information the mole deduced that the box had been taken outside. Then it fell, landing with a ‘thump’ that pushed the yellow tractor an inch or two deeper into the box, pinning his body down even more firmly than before. But the mole didn’t care.

‘It’s started!’ he thought, excitedly. ‘Things are going to change!’

Nothing troubled him anymore: the darkness, the stuffiness and the tightness of the box were now unimportant. Things were going to change! His adventures had begun!

The mole heard the thud of a heavy lid above his head, felt a sharp rumble beneath the box and they began to move.

The journey was short and soon the box was picked up again, carried into a place filled with many voices, positioned on a firm surface and –

OPENED!

At that moment the mole felt glad that his eyes were tiny and set deep inside his coat – for the light that filled the box when it was opened was unbelievably bright, much much brighter than he had ever remembered or, indeed, imagined.

While he squinted, gradually becoming used to the light, the things in the box around him started disappearing, picked out one after another by a pair of hands. The mole wiggled desperately, trying to get a better view, but the yellow tractor held him firmly in place and the smelly football boot kept his head in an awkward position, preventing him from seeing much.

All he could do was wait and listen.

“C’mon, Lorna!” the mole heard a boy call. “Hurry up, the fair has already started.”

“Don’t you tell ME,” replied a girl in a squeaky voice that sounded familiar. “I told YOU we were gonna be late. It was YOU who went upstairs for one last box.”

“Just wait until I sell all my stuff and make way more money than you!” shouted the boy and the mole heard the sound of a scuffle.

“You two!” a new, older voice interrupted. “You behave or you’ll get no money to keep, neither of you, I’m telling you now!”

The mole lay in the box and couldn’t wait to be picked out. When the dinosaur disappeared, he felt a little sad that he hadn’t had the chance to say “Hello” or “Goodbye”, but the next moment these thoughts vanished and he felt elated as the hand pulled the smelly boot away from his face.

‘Fresh air!’ thought the mole, taking a big breath.

Next – what joy! – the yellow tractor was lifted off his chest. The sense of weightlessness and freedom was so overwhelming that when, in turn, he himself was taken out of the box, his head was spinning, his heart singing and he believed he could fly!

Alas – Lorna’s squeaky voice brought him crashing back to earth far too soon.

“Mum, do you think anybody would want to buy this ugly old mole?”

“Ah,” the girl’s mother waved her hand dismissively, “put him on the table all the same. You never know what people might fancy. We are definitely not taking anything back from here! You either sell your stuff, or it goes into the bin, mark my word!”

For the first time on this glorious morning the mole’s insides were gripped with fear. The girl didn’t like him! She thought him so ugly and repulsive that she didn’t even want to place him on the table. A faint memory came to him, of a long time ago, in the life he wasn’t sure he’d had, life before the box, when this very girl had described him with these very words – “an ugly old mole” and thrown him into the dark corner under her bed.

What if she was right?

What if nobody wanted him?

What if nobody would even look at him?

What if, at the end of this wonderful day, this day full of light and sound, this day of high hopes and great expectations, he would have to go back into the box and spend the rest of his life there?

Or worse still…

What if he were left in this hall and, after everyone else went home, thrown in the dustbin with the other rubbish?