I had little knowledge of the involvement of Crete in World War 2 and so was intrigued to delve back in history through historical fiction, which is, in fact, based on the personal story of Patricia Wilson, and this is what inspired her to write the novel in the first place, as we find out in a short additional section at the end of the book.
I found this book to be an amazing incredible journey through history told in such a way that I felt I was actually there going through the terrible times with poor Maria, and her two sons Stavro and Matthia when they were forced to flee their home in the village of Amiras in September 1943 and head to the hills for survival.
I have visited Crete a few times and also most of the other Greek Islands so I already had a sense of the Greek way of life, the smells and sounds, the friendliness of the people and the stunning scenery from the hills to the beaches and the pretty villages dotted around the islands, and these are all described to perfection by the author. The way the story weaves through the horrors of 1943 to Poppy fleeing the island to the present day, I felt like I was sitting chatting with the Greek old ladies who perch on stools outside their homes crocheting lace into tablecloths for future brides, while the men sat in the Kafenion drinking Greek coffee and clacking their worry beads. I could smell the lemon trees and bouganvillia, could imagine eating the olives, rustic bread with feta cheese, followed by baklava pastries drenched with honey washed down with coffee, watching the men in the late evening’s dance to Zorba the Greek with their arms over each other’s shoulders.
I found this book to be an amazing incredible journey through history told in such a way that I felt I was actually there going through the terrible times with poor Maria, and her two sons Stavro and Matthia when they were forced to flee their home in the village of Amiras in September 1943 and head to the hills for survival.
I have visited Crete a few times and also most of the other Greek Islands so I already had a sense of the Greek way of life, the smells and sounds, the friendliness of the people and the stunning scenery from the hills to the beaches and the pretty villages dotted around the islands, and these are all described to perfection by the author. The way the story weaves through the horrors of 1943 to Poppy fleeing the island to the present day, I felt like I was sitting chatting with the Greek old ladies who perch on stools outside their homes crocheting lace into tablecloths for future brides, while the men sat in the Kafenion drinking Greek coffee and clacking their worry beads. I could smell the lemon trees and bouganvillia, could imagine eating the olives, rustic bread with feta cheese, followed by baklava pastries drenched with honey washed down with coffee, watching the men in the late evening’s dance to Zorba the Greek with their arms over each other’s shoulders.