Andrew Taylor Author

I am very cross with myself for having failed to post anything for over six months. But a piece of good news has at last galvanised me into action. My latest novel, A Schooling in Murder, is just out in paperback and it has been selected as Waterstones Thriller of the Month for March.

Treason

In other news, I’ve finished my new book, Treason, the seventh title in my seventeeth-century series about the tangled lives of James Marwood and Cat Lovett. It moves their lives seventeen years into their future, to the turbulent prologue to the Glorious Revolution. When I say finished, I mean my editor and agent read the first draft and gave me their notes; I’ve now reshaped and rewritten parts of the book into what’s effectively a second draft. 

Here’s a preview of a mysterious sign that plays a crucial part in the development of the story. Its meaning and purpose are part of the backbone of the novel. Any idea what it is?

I’ve written a historical note for those readers who, like me, are curious to know more about the context of a novel set in the past. The process reminded me of the gulf that lies between the historian and a historical novelist. They are different trades.

With luck, I can now put Treason on one side until the copy-editing stage before it goes to the printer. This won’t be for a while. HarperCollins, have currently scheduled publication for spring next year. 

Oxford Events

Oxford is one of my favourite cities so I’m particularly looking forward to two events there this year. The first is the Oxford Literary Festival. I’m looking forward to talking about historical crime fiction with fellow historical novelist Carolyn Kirby on Saturday 21 March at 2pm.

Later in the year, I’ll be back in Oxford for the long-running Crime Fiction Weekend on 4-6 September at St Hilda’s College. I’ve been coming to this very enjoyable weekend of discussing and celebrating the genre for a quarter-century, on and off. This year the theme is ‘Rotten Apples’. They have invited me to be the Guest of Honour, which I am going to interpret as a compliment rather than as a comment on my degenerate moral fibre.