Hello, Lorraine!
Thank you for inviting me along talk about my novel, Revolution Day, published this
summer by Crooked Cat, which follows a year in the life of Latin American
dictator, Carlos Almanzor.
Now in his seventies, Carlos is
feeling his age and seeing enemies around every corner. And with good reason:
his Vice-President, Manuel Jimenez, though outwardly loyal, is burning with
frustration at his subordinate position.
Meanwhile, Carlos’ estranged and
imprisoned wife Juanita is writing a memoir in which she recalls the revolution
that brought him to power and how, once a liberal idealist, he came to embrace
autocracy and repression.
When Manuel’s attempts to
increase his profile are met with humiliating rejection, he resolves to take
action. Lacking military backing, he must pursue power not by force but through
intrigue, playing upon Carlos’ paranoia and manipulating the perceptions of the
president and those around him.
As Manuel makes his move, Juanita
and others close to Carlos will soon find themselves unwitting participants in
his plans.
Revolution Day is a fictional story and Carlos is not based upon any particular
individual. Nevertheless the plot and aspects of Carlos’ character were
influenced in different ways by the lives of many real dictators. Juanita too has some historical precedents –
there is a hint of Eva Peron about her.
My
immediate inspiration for the book was the events of the Arab Spring in
2010-11, when a string of dictators who had once seemed unassailable – Gaddafi,
Mubarak and others – were toppled one after the other.
What interested me was not so much the
specific reasons for those events, but the wider issues they illuminate
regarding the corrupting and deluding effects of power and its ultimate
fragility. Latin America, with its long
history of dictatorship, seemed a good setting to explore all this, and hey presto,
I had my story!
Here is an
extract, an incident early on in the book which helps us understand Carlos’ paranoia:
A column of
about fifty people in two parallel lines, each carrying a wreath, marched
slowly into the square from the south. At its head, escorted by an inner guard
of sixteen soldiers in ceremonial uniform, walked the five members of the
Revolutionary Council, led by President Carlos Almanzor himself. He was
accompanied by an Archbishop, who wore elaborate robes of white and gold in
stark contrast to the military uniforms, dark suits and black dresses of the
other mourners. Either side of the column walked two lines of military
musicians, playing a funeral march.
A few paces short of the tomb
there were two microphones on stands. Here the President and Archbishop came to
a halt. The long centipede behind them compressed slightly as each pair of mourners
stopped a few moments after the one in front. When all was finally still and
the funeral march had come to an end, the President stepped up to one of the
microphones and spoke in slow, measured tones.
“Today, on the anniversary of
their burial, we pay tribute to those who fell in the cause of liberty on that
great day, thirty-seven years ago. In sacrificing their lives, they gave new
life to our nation. We are here to show that their courage and their loss were
not in vain, and to acknowledge that we are forever in their debt.”
Almanzor finished speaking and
stepped back a pace. It had never been his practice to make a long speech on
these occasions – for that, there was Revolution Day itself. He saluted, then
bowed his head and stood in silence. Some of the people whose remains were in
the tomb had been his friends. The Archbishop now stepped forward and began a
short service. As he spoke, the others in the column stood motionless under the
hot sun. Sweat was beading on their brows, and dark stains were starting to
appear at the armpits of some of the suits. They remained stolidly quiet. Even
the crowd held their tongues for these moments of holiness.
Amid the stillness, a small
object flew from the east towards the west side of the square. It might have
been mistaken for a bird, but some people noticed its parabolic trajectory and
the fact that it was tumbling end over end. Before anyone could react, the
object exploded harmlessly in mid-air with a small puff of smoke and a loud
crack. All eyes turned towards the sound, including those of the police and the
soldiers, who instinctively turned their rifles towards it.
In that second, from the east
side of the square whence the object had come, a long-haired figure forced its
way through the crowd and leapt over the barrier. It raised its arms, pointing
them towards the President, and from a small silver object in its hands came a
flash and a second sharp crack. Every eye, and every rifle, in the square now
turned towards this new sound. There were five more bangs, louder and deeper
than before. The figure staggered, dropping the silver object, and blotches of
red appeared upon its white t-shirt. It stumbled backwards and fell over.
If your readers are intrigued, they might like to know that, from today,
the Revolution Day e-book is on special offer for Christmas at 99p/$1.99! More
information and excerpts can be found on the Revolution Day page on my website:
http://www.tetaylor.co.uk/#!revday/cwpf.
Thanks again for hosting me, Lorraine!
Other Links:
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author page: https://www.facebook.com/timtaylornovels
Website: http://www.tetaylor.co.uk/
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Bio
Tim was born
in 1960 in Stoke-on-Trent. He studied Classics at Pembroke College, Oxford (and
later Philosophy at Birkbeck, University of London). After a couple of years
playing in a rock band, he joined the Civil Service, eventually leaving in 2011
to spend more time writing.
Tim now lives in Yorkshire with
his wife and daughter and divides his time between creative writing, academic
research and part-time teaching and other work for Leeds and Huddersfield
Universities.
Tim’s first novel, Zeus of
Ithome, a historical novel about the struggle of the ancient Messenians to free
themselves from Sparta, was published by Crooked Cat in November 2013; his
second, Revolution Day in June 2015. Tim
also writes poetry and the occasional short story, plays guitar, and likes to
walk up hills.
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