#GIVEAWAY Review: The Fish King and the Two Wise Ghosts Written and Illustrated by Francis H Powell + Exclusive Author Interview
Today it’s my immense pleasure to share with you this fantastic feature of The Fish King and the Two Wise Ghosts, including my review and an exclusive author interview. Plus Francis Powell has a fabulous #Giveaway for those who read and comment on the post. Details below. Enjoy!
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ISBN-13: 978-1739295561
Publisher: Blossom Spring PublishingRelease Date: 04-12-2023Length: 59ppSource: Author for reviewBuy It: Amazon/ B&N / IndieBound GoodreadsOverview:Two fish tales in one!
The Fish King is lonely and wishes he has a wife to keep him company. So when his chance of happiness is dashed by Princess Chipolata, after she is caught by the two wise ghosts stealing the crown jewels and is sent to prison, the king is still left feeling miserable. The Fish King has many suiters but it is Princess Alice’s sister, Lilly, who finally wins his heart!
However, there’s only one problem…he must introduce her to the two ghosts that reside in his palace and who like to play jokes on people!
A grand wedding takes place at the palace and soon after the king and queen produce a royal heir – Prince Erik. The young prince grows to love the two wise ghosts as much as his father does and, as soon as he is old enough, he leaves the palace to embark on a magical adventure with his ghost friends; until at last it is time to go home and share his many stories with his parents and Aunt Alice.
My Interview with Francis:
Francis thanks for sharing your children’s book with me, I loved it and know it will thrill any young child who either reads it or has it read to them.
You dedicated the book to your son who you said drew the first illustration of the Fish King and his two ghostly compatriots.
Have you ever seen Shakespeare performed in a different language other than English? How do other countries interpret and portray Shakespeare?
Will the world ever tire of William Shakespeare?
He pops up in the most unlikely places.
I’m going for a walk with my son and dog in a park in Fontainebleau (50 minutes from Paris).
I spotted a poster for a Shakespeare festival taking place in a park in Avon. I had to go.
To start the festival, Twelfth Night was performed. This took me back to school and trying to understand Shakespeare’s way of expressing things. A big bonus was that the play was performed in English. The audience was a mix of young and old, splattering ex-pats, learned students, and French fans of Shakespeare. The stage had chairs laid out and costumes hung on clothes rails on a plain black background. It looked like it was going to be a play reading rather than a full-on play.
The actors came on stage at random moments. There was one who looked like a rock god—long hair, shirt open, revealing a naked torso. He was moving to a Radiohead loop in an overtly sexual manner. What were we all in for? The first line of the play, “If music be the food of love, play on…” puts it into context. It was a clever way to start the play. Some of the actors excelled in their parts. There was a mix of British and French actors. Towards the middle, an impromptu party seemed to erupt, with the actors inviting the audience to join them on stage. The play certainly created a euphoric ambience, and the theatregoers left feeling well entertained.
The next day we set off in our car, the sun shining, to see “A Comedy of Errors” (version française). I was unfamiliar with this play. The setting was nice—a large house in a park. A wedding party trooped down before the play began. A child crying, searching for his parents. a photographer snapping away. The prelude to a play is going on all around us.
Actors started appearing. a prisoner speaking in a forlorn voice. Left, right, and centre, there was an actor or a group of actors popping up. You could see the enthusiasm of the actors bubbling over. They committed to delivering this play; it was written in their faces, but maybe with too much gusto, subtlety and a bit of guile was lacking. Lines seemed to be shouted, and faces contorted. I was handicapped by not being able to understand what was being said. It all seemed very hysterical. Was it capturing the spirit of a Shakespeare play? I was left to wonder.
After the opening, I began to switch off; there were too many distractions—that wedding going on in the background, for example. Then the weather turned and the heavens opened up. It was like a scene I remember from The Witches of Eastwick, when a school orchestra is playing and then a massive storm erupts, rupturing the concert and causing mayhem. Some of the audience tried to bravely tough it out. The actors carried on unabated. Some of the audience went under trees, while others were better equipped with umbrellas.
You had to feel sorry for the actors, who appeared young and who’d religiously learned their lines—no easy feat. The play’s director stepped in to draw the curtain on the play. The audience was now thin, and the weather was grim with dark grey ominous clouds. If only they’d chosen to put on “The Tempest.” A Comedy of Errors had transformed into “A Not Very Funny Disaster.” Dripping wet, we trudged back to our car. Regardless, Shakespeare’s plays, in whatever form they take, are still alive.
To read an interview with me on my latest children book, click the above link
Please welcome Francis H Powell to my blog. Hello Frank. Shall we have sit and have a chat?
Please introduce yourself to those reading this blog post.
Hello, I am Francis, I was born in the UK, but I’ve lived in France for quite a long time. I am a writer, but also a painter and musician. I love to create things. I live with my wife, son, and rescue dog, called Bertie.
Has writing always been part of your life and when did you “know” that it was time to start writing your first book?
Writing for me took off when I was living in Paris and saw an advert for short stories, in a magazine. It was a little homemade magazine called Rat Mort (dead rat, for anyone who doesn’t speak much French). Having some stories actually published, was a real lift. I went on from there.
How difficult was it writing your first book?
Writing is a pleasure, promoting and selling books is another matter.
Have you ever wanted to give up and what stopped you?
Maybe sometimes you think, why do I make so much effort? What are the returns? Is this just a labour of love? I love writing stories, creating characters, imagining stories in my head. Developing stories.
Anything specific you want to tell your readers?
I would like to bring a smile to their faces. We live in a harsh world.
What is your target audience and what aspect of your writing do you feel targets that audience?
With my latest book “The Fish King and the Two Wise Ghosts, my target is children six years old and over. I have created a picture book; I did all the illustrations as well as writing the story.
Did the cover evolve the same way, or did you work with someone to make it come together for you?
The cover and indeed the title of the book came about because my ten-year-old boy, did a drawing a few years back, that looked like a king holding the hand of two ghosts. I began to write a poem based on this drawing. Following this I decided to change the poem into prose, but I kept quite a lot of the poetry.
What are you working on now? Can we get a peek, an excerpt?
Mostly promoting the book as well as some short stories; I also write a lot of poetry. Here is a little sneaky excerpt of the Fish King…
****
There once was a Fish King who lived in an old, ruined castle deep in a magical ocean. As well as many servants, there lived two wise ghosts. One day Ghosts John and Henry looked at the king and said, “Sire, your clothes are so out of date, and your palace is now in a terrible state. We ghosts have haunted it, over hundreds of years, but the splendour it had, has long disappeared.”
The Fish King pulled a face and looked at the crumbling walls, as some bricks tumbled to the floor. “You may have a point,” the king mumbled, it could do with some sprucing up. He also summoned the royal tailor to conjure up some dazzling designs. The two ghosts were always friendly and gave good advice. They would only scare people who were not very nice. They spoke to the king almost every day and when he was a boy, they loved to play with him. They would tell him jokes and whizzed round the palace and would play terrible tricks on his young sister Alice. They appeared from nowhere at the foot of her bed, she would shriek and scream, till her face went bright red.
One day the Fish King woke with a most terrible fright. There was something on his mind, something not quite right. A thought came to him, like a flash in his mind. I need to find a queen who is both beautiful and kind. A search through the kingdom was soon underway. A list was drawn up of suitable candidates. Weeks later Princess Chipolata arrived at the palace. Her wicked smile soon had the king under her spell. It seemed that the Fish King had met his chips. He even kissed this fishy princess on the lips. Ghosts Henry and John wondered about the king’s catch. Was this fishy princess such a good match? Though King Fish and Chips seemed to go together. The two wise ghosts thought that they knew better.
When some of the king’s crown jewels suddenly went missing, the two ghost friends immediately knew who was behind this outrage. The princess seemed to 5 be always sneaking about, she was soon their prime suspect, without a doubt. “Sire, sorry to say it’s that Princess Chipolata, who stole those jewels.” “Utter nonsense!” roared the king in a rage. Being a wise king, he knew of course it’s impossible to keep a ghost in a cage. Later, the two ghosts saw the princess taking some gold and thought that the king should be immediately told. The king growled, “why won’t you stop with these terrible lies!” The ghosts said, “we saw it ourselves, with our very own eyes!” The king shouted, “now the castle’s ghosts have turned into spies!” Raising his voice he added, “if you weren’t ghosts, you’d be running for your lives.”
The king was now in a terrible mood. He wouldn’t smile nor eat his food. However, it seemed the fishy princess was nowhere to be seen. It was exactly as the two ghosts had feared. Eventually, she was caught with the crown jewels. The king realized he’d been taken for a fool. “I need to be careful when choosing a queen, not every princess is all that they seem.” The two friendly ghosts were back in his good books. The princess went to prison for her terrible crime. The palace changed back into its normal state and calm was restored.
Any last words before we wrap things up?
Tell your children to keep drawing and let their imaginations go wild. My son draws a lot, even at school, his teacher dumps his drawings in the bin. Everybody should express themselves by drawing.
Please welcome Francis H Powell to my blog. Hello Frank. Shall we have sit and have a chat?
Please introduce yourself to those reading this blog post.
Hello, I am Francis, I was born in the UK, but I’ve lived in France for quite a long time. I am a writer, but also a painter and musician. I love to create things. I live with my wife, son, and rescue dog, called Bertie.
Has writing always been part of your life and when did you “know” that it was time to start writing your first book?
Writing for me took off when I was living in Paris and saw an advert for short stories, in a magazine. It was a little homemade magazine called Rat Mort (dead rat, for anyone who doesn’t speak much French). Having some stories actually published, was a real lift. I went on from there.
Why did you choose to write in your particular field or genre?
I like the work of Roald Dahl. He wrote for both adults and children and I decided to do the same.
What are some day jobs you have held?
For the most part, I have been a teacher. I have taught History of Art, English literature, History, as well as a few less interesting subjects in universities and business schools. I have worked with children, doing after school activities. I once worked in a theater as an usher, and I was the worlds worst barman for a time.
Do you have a special time to write, or how is your day structured to accommodate your writing?
I like to review what I written in the morning when I am feeling fresh, having had a long break from writing. You see things that perhaps you hadn’t seen before.
Having had three books published aimed at an older audience, I am happy to announce my first children’s book will be published
on the 26th of April, by Blossom Spring Publishers. It has been quite a journey. The journey started with a drawing my 10 year old son did a few years back. The drawing looked like a king holding the hands of two ghosts, in the same style as the book cover above. I wrote an extremely long poem, then decided that it should be written in prose, but then chose to keep parts of the poem.
I worked on some illustrations to go with story, using photoshop, discovering some photoshop effects along the way. It was great to have the liberty to be able to put my artwork with the story, I’d written.
It was a bit of a leap from anything I had done before.
Since my son was born, I have read him countless stories and have longed to be able to say “this is a story inspired by you and written for you.” Drawing is extremely important to my son. He often draws at school, when he should be concentrating on other things. He has been reprimanded a few times and has had his drawings thrown away by an irate teacher. For me it is so important for children to draw. They can express things that can’t be put into words.
Most people go to museums to see beautiful gilded objects or paintings. Perhaps they go to admire the work of craftsman or fine sculptures. They don’t normally have to descend a 132 steps, then walk down dimly lit dark corridors. There are ceilings dripping water. There is the sense of decay.
There is the air of the unexpected. I am with my ten year old son, who is gripped by curiosity. At a point he says “this is the most unusual tourist place.” It was something I myself had concluded, just before, as if our minds are in tandem.
Eventually after trudging down corridors, following a crowd of tourists, from an array of different countries, we arrive in an area full to the brim with skulls and bones. They are caked in dust and brown in colour. It is hard to believe they once lived and breathed. There is often…
Most people go to museums to see beautiful gilded objects or paintings. Perhaps they go to admire the work of craftsman or fine sculptures. They don’t normally have to descend a 132 steps, then walk down dimly lit dark corridors. There are ceilings dripping water. There is the sense of decay.
There is the air of the unexpected. I am with my ten year old son, who is gripped by curiosity. At a point he says “this is the most unusual tourist place.” It was something I myself had concluded, just before, as if our minds are in tandem.
Eventually after trudging down corridors, following a crowd of tourists, from an array of different countries, we arrive in an area full to the brim with skulls and bones. They are caked in dust and brown in colour. It is hard to believe they once lived and breathed. There is often a sculptural quality to them. They have been carefully arranged. They might have been put together by some conceptual artist. They haven’t been just thrown in an inordinate heap. Tourists stop in small groups and take inevitable photographs on their smart phones.
At a point I am quite looking forward to exiting this subterranean homage to the dead, going back to more familiar settings. The catacombs are brimming with history. There is more to them that just a refuge for the dead. They are also entwined in history, used for example by the French resistance during the second world war. To gather knowledge of this unusual environment, you can listen to a commentary with headphones. I chose just to take it all in.
This is not my first visit. Some years previously I went on an illegal nocturnal visit. We covered a far bigger distance and this visit was fraught with danger. At around six in the morning we exited the catacombs, fearful some observant police officer might clock eyes on us. I remember being exhausted and caked in dust.
This legitimate adventure was in part to please my son during his school holiday. He has a leaning towards the macabre fuelled by watching endless Scooby Doo cartoons and more recently “Wednesday” the Tim Burton Adams family series offshoot. He didn’t appear greatly disturbed by what he was looking at.
Once we had seen all there was to see, we mount up the many steps leading us back to the normal world above. There was of course the lure of the gift shop and I was forced to buy my son a memento. He chose a white plastic skull keyring. This done we walked out into a Parisian street, with a blue sky way above.
Francis H Powell author 