Blackberry Wine
By Joanne Harris
I have no idea how this book arrived in my bookshelf but one day there it was. And so began a love affair with Joanne Harris’ books. The author of Chocolat - which I have only just now read, a little late to that party I admit, she weaves magic into every page. And I mean that. It’s not just how she writes, there exists within her stories something else, and she herself acknowledges that fine magical mist within her stories. It’s so subtle, barely there, disguised as just simple human stories - and yet, it is there nonetheless. At every secondhand book shop I search for other titles by her to try to capture what this book did, and I have not been disappointed. This story takes place in the same small French village that Chocolat was set - I only realising that once I had read the latter. It also takes me back to the muddy, crowded allotments of England, which I miss and she captures them so beautifully. This book made me want to sip strong sweet wines and brought back the heady days of orchards and long summers. A touching story that moved me far more than I ever thought it would and it’s fragrance continues to linger like apples stored in the attic.
“You don’t write because someone sets assignments! You write because you need to write, or because you hope someone will listen or because writing will mend something broken inside you or bring something back to life.”
