In Celebration of the release of The Chocolate Maker’s Wife – here’s some background on the writing of the novel and what’s between the covers…

This is an edited excerpt of what appeared in the ARC copy of the novel.

Official release date: 18 February in Australia/NZ. Out in the USA and UK August 2019.

The Chocolate Maker’s Wife, a tale of tragedy, triumph and sensual delight in Restoration London, is my twelfth book. It’s also the fourth time I’ve used the same basic premise to explore humanity and history through fiction by focussing on women in trade. So many historical fictions are about the gentry and nobility and they’re fascinating. What captivates me even more is what ordinary folk – well educated or not, rich or poor – did to survive in business, sickness, health, love and loss. In previous novels, I’ve tackled a candle-maker-cum-courtesan, a brewer, a lock-pick/spy and due to a timely visit to Hampton Court in 2014, I’ve my latest book.

Not only was chocolate a decadent drink introduced to England from Europe – Spain (via South America) – around the 1660s, coinciding with the restoration of Charles II to the English throne and all that his reign heralded in terms of hedonism and decadence, but it was associated with a range of naughty behaviours and benefits. Touted for its health-giving properties, chocolate was also considered an aphrodisiac. While there were those who sought to ban it, there were many more who relished the wicked things it signified. Just like the new, bitter drink of coffee, entire “houses” were opened where men could gather and quaff, smoke and exchange news.

A chocolate house in Georgian times. Coffee and chocolate houses were popular, and served as clubs and meeting places for business (© TopFoto)
While this is a Georgian coffee or chocolate house, Rosamund’s in my novel would have been similar.

The new-fangled and troublesome (for king and court) profession of journalism was also burgeoning. The collision of new ideas, political protest and the ability to read what was happening as people’s literacy grew, spelled both dramatic change and disorder. Debates, gossip, plots, plans, arguments, gambling and all other manner of licentious conduct happened – and was encouraged – under the roof of the debauched, marvellous chocolate house.

As you can tell (because I could go on), I simply adore doing the research!

The Chocolate Maker’s Wife focusses on the first of these chocolate houses to open in London and with a woman at the helm. With great business acumen, young and lovely Rosamund – someone with a past both uplifting and utterly wretched – arrives in the capital. Rosamund makes a deal with the devil and learns all there is to know about chocolate, serving men who would both bed and wed her. Through chocolate and the people it brings into her orbit, her life undergoes an extraordinary transformation.

An 18th-century reproduction brass pot stands ready to dispense its liquid contents.
A glass chocolate pot – note the molinillo (the stick in the lid) and he handle out the side for pouring.

But one cannot serve “sin in a bowl” and expect their reputation to remain unsullied. Nor at a time when war is brewing, plots against the crown are thick, laws tightening, plague and then fire threatening, never mind lustful men and jealous women, can Rosamund expect to remain safe – especially when those plotting against her are the same who promise her security.

The Chocolate Maker’s Wife is filled with real historical figures, rich in historical detail and facts as well as a healthy dose of imagination and a great deal of luscious chocolate. I hope in reading it, like Rosamund, you’ll find damnation has never been so sweet.

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How to Be Thin in A World of Chocolate by Michele Connolly

I have a confession to make. I have never read a diet book in my life. So, what made me read this one? Two things. One: I have just submitted my latest novel which involves a chocolate maker, so the title of this book (which I adore) piqued my interest. Secondly: it was recommended to me as not only a quick, tremendous read, but a potential Xmas present (though, I don’t know I’d want to give any of my friends a book on dieting…).

Only, How to Be Thin in A World of Chocolate isn’t only a diet book. It’s really about how to feel good about oneself despite so many forces aimed at making you feel the complete opposite – especially those that come from within.

Packed with common sense, written in a warm, engaging way, I laughed out loud, found myself nodding away, and felt like rather than reading a book about how to look and feel my very best, I was having a conversation with a really empathetic, wise and funny friend. One that doesn’t believe there is anything such as a non-Abba person – my kind of gal.

The kind of book you can dip in an out of as well as read from cover to cover, I suspect it’s one many will return to again and again. Divided into sections around eating, moving and thinking, it offers little pearls, for example about exercise, reminding us of the sixteen rules of exercise we can completely ignore (eg. Exercise in the morning; do 30 minutes a day). There is only one rule we must follow (and when you read it, it’s obvious but I until it was in front of me, I couldn’t have identified it). I’m afraid you’ll have to read this little gem of a book to discover what that rule is.

So, if you’re looking for a little stocking filler that’s beautifully written and packaged and aren’t afraid to slip your family member/friends a book that on first appearances seems to be only about dieting, then this book with the great title is terrific.

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Tastes of Paradise by Wolfgang Schivelbusch

Tastes of Paradise: A Social History of Spices, Stimulants and Intoxicants by Wolfgang Schivelbusch is a fascinating socio-historical study that offers revealing insights into the role various spices, “drugs” and particularly beverages have played in (mostly) Western culture. While the section on spices is brief, it forms a sound introduction to the three major “tastes” Schivelbusch examines: coffee, tea and tobacco (others do get a small platform, such as opium, beer, ale and gin). Chocolate gets a brief glimpse, but it’s mainly the role the non-alcoholic and hot drinks of tea and coffee, and concomitantly tobacco, and how their production and consumption – one that changed from medicinal to pleasurable – reshaped society that’s the primary focus of this book.

141602Rather then simply understanding coffee, tea and tobacco from the commercial point of view (though Schivelbusch does examine this as well as the relationship between East and West in terms of trade and production), his main concern is to look at how coffee and tea functioned ideologically and socially in terms of promoting a specific protestant and middle class view of the world.

Turning from the beer and ale of the Middle Ages and Renaissance working classes and the inebriated state that often followed a day of drinking (remembering that water was not drunk to quench thirst in the Middle Ages or the Renaissance – it was dangerous – so beer/ale was not only drunk to stave off thirst but to provide much needed calories for workers and soldiers – he discusses the popular “beer soup” as an example), the rising middle classes, the bourgeoisie, embraced coffee and tea as “their” drink. As Schivelbusch argues, “Coffee… spread through the body and achieved chemically and pharmacologically what rationalism and the Protestant ethic sought to fulfil spiritually and ideologically. With coffee, the principle of rationality entered human physiology…”

So, not only did coffee become a class-based drink, it was also associated with a religious and aesthetic viewpoint as well.

Not at first. At first, coffee, tea and chocolate drinking were regarded as part of the cult of luxury and only available to those with the means to consume them. It was only later that it became the drink of rationality and conviction and thus spread through the middle classes – familiarity breeding not contempt but desire. Likewise, with tea. Chocolate didn’t fair so well being regarded a bit more suspiciously and as a drink associated with idleness and decadence.

While women in public consumed none of the drinks when they first became available, over time tea particularly became very domesticated and even feminised. Chocolate drinking also became something women did in private, and bore connotations of sexual liberty and naughtiness, partly to do with the idea it had aphrodisiac qualities. Women who drank it were viewed with a jaundiced and unrespectable eye – something that changed when chocolate became mass-produced and women were used in advertising and targeted as the major market.

Schivelbusch also discusses the role of coffee houses and chocolate ones too, especially in England. How they became places where, unlike taverns and inns, conversation was sober and robust. Men of business (not aristocrats necessarily) could meet and discuss daily news, politics and generally gossip. Various coffee houses became so renown for this, they also had strong ties with either the newly emerging Whig or Tory parties. They developed reputations as hotbeds of potential coups. They also became closely identified with particular types of business – for example, Lloyd’s Coffee House was the place where maritime folk met – sailors, captains, sea-venturing business people met, especially those who functioned as underwriters and insurance brokers. Of course, Lloyd’s eventually evolved into the now famous Lloyd’s of London. Men chose carefully which coffee house they entered, and thus the establishment and the beverage served all became strongly associated with self-definition.

While Shivelbusch’s research is wide-ranging and impressive, it’s his discussions of the social role of human consumption of substances like beer, tea, coffee, chocolate, gin, opium and tobacco that are this book’s strength. Written in the 1970s, so much of what it uncovers is so relevant – the rituals around alcoholic drinking, the bar as a public meeting place where strangers can converse and rounds are bought and what this all signifies – is all very strong. It’s when he discusses various opiates, other drugs and even tobacco in the contemporary setting that the age of the book shows, but this should not deter a reader. Instead, it’s easy to fill in the gaps which demonstrates how important all these things – drugs, stimulants and various other intoxicants – liquid and non-liquid – are in society even today. We all have an opinion on their role and how and where they should be consumed and by whom.

A gem of a book that was an easy and fascinating read. Highly recommended.

 

 

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