Yello!! My Author of the Week is Jeffrey Perren guys! For the next few days I will be casting a little shine on three of his books.
First up: Clonmac's Bridge
Synopsis Clonmac's Bridge – Archaeological mystery
A maritime archaeologist raises a medieval monastery span from the mud of the River Shannon, sunken for 1,200 years... and finds it perfectly preserved.
What could account for this astounding longevity? Why are his colleagues and the Church so desperate to prevent him learning the secret? And why is his consummate lover his greatest enemy?
Griffin Clonmac will go through hell to find out.
He won’t go alone. Inspired by a real discovery, Clonmac’s Bridge shifts between contemporary times and 9th century Ireland. It tells the story of two men who struggle against envy and mediocrity — a millennium apart — aided only by a loyal helpmate and an unconquerable will.
An archaeological thriller, a love story, and a pensée on society then and now.
By Jeffrey Perren
Excerpt from Chapter 1
Mari Quispe looked down from the peak of a hill above an archaeological dig near her home in Cusco, Peru. She was the official head of the project, largely owing the influence of her father, but she had no illusions. Few would follow her instructions without it, despite knowing she was the most knowledgeable investigator among them.
As her gaze crossed the dry expanse she saw her assistant climbing the hill toward her. She smiled down warmly. She waved a second then replaced her hand again over her thick eyebrows when the sun blinded her.
As she waited for Sandrine to walk up the rise, Mari looked off into the distance. She could see the tall rocks of Sacsayhuaman rising from the desert-like ground, some of them heavier than 100 tons. The sight of the Incan site made her smile, just anticipating what treasures she might dig for there in the future.
At last, Sandrine reached her and said without any chatty preamble, “I think we should shore up that section behind the corner.” She pointed. “I’m worried about the weight from the earth above.”
Mari nodded her agreement about the cave. “We’ve made good progress. Maybe too good.” She checked the angle of the sun. “Do you think it can wait until tomorrow, or should we clear everyone out now?”
She scrolled rapidly down a mental list of who would have to be contacted to do the work and how long it would take. She had enough men on staff to tackle it, but no one with the expertise except Sandrine and the three students. She didn’t want to spare them for that.
Sandrine read her mind. “It will wait, I’m sure. We can get a whole day in today.”
Mari thanked her and went off to find someone to take a message to town for the contractor. This high in the Andes and several miles from Cusco her cell phone was useless.
One of the local workers told her the contractor was at a small house a kilometer from the site. She trotted off to deliver it herself, reaching the shack in a few minutes. She knocked on the door and out came the man, the leathery skin on his face looking flushed from drinking too much Chicha de Jora.
She was still arguing with him, insisting over his drunken resistance that he start first thing in the morning, when a young man rushed up to her. He hadn’t bothered to knock on the open door, a serious breach of local manners. Mari suspected the reason. She turned to him, ignoring the barking coming from the contractor.
He said, “It’s collapsed! The cave!”
She rushed up the hill, her running feet barely touching the trail sloping to the dig. She rounded a turn a few minutes later to see a group of young men standing in front of the cave. She screamed, “What are you waiting for?”
Mari hustled forward to the now-blocked entrance, transformed by the cave-in to an avalanche of dirt, limestone, and shattered support beams. She tapped the stone beside the entrance with a hand pick and waited.
She heard a hollow echo, a good sign. The interior hadn’t collapsed, just the front. If Sandrine had been deeper inside she would be uninjured. Mari checked her watch. She estimated they had about two hours to dig her out before the air ran out.
Her time estimate had been too optimistic.
Three hours later it was nearly dark and everyone was exhausted. Mari was sure they were nearly through, though. They had opened up a hole big enough to admit adequate air. Everyone fed off her confidence and she refused to let up. She urged them on. An hour later, there was at last a hole large enough for a person to slide inside.
She pulled Sandrine’s upper body by the armpits between her own legs and onto her stomach, then she grabbed her around the chest. She scooted backwards, pushing with her heels, dragging her precious cargo along, careful not to bang her friend’s head on anything.
When Mari scrambled out after her, she saw Sandrine stretched out near the rubble, lying alone. The group of onlookers stood back several feet. No one was looking at the body. She was about to shout what idiots they all were but stifled it and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She worked at it for a solid two minutes, then paused to examine Sandrine’s face with the flashlight.
She could see the effort was futile.
Amazon links Clonmac's Bridge
"Intriguing…suspenseful…riveting….a bit of romance thrown in. All adjectives I like to use when describing a book I just finished reading. I found the depth and complexity of the building of the bridge interesting and well written. The archaeological aspects of the story grabbed me and would not let me go until I had read every word in the story." Open Book Society
This book will keep the reader intrigued and turning every page as fast as the information is absorbed, seeking answers to these puzzling questions, where was Clonmac Bridge's exact location in Ireland, who built it and why did it disappear.” Erika Borsos Vine Voice
"Perren's masterfully crafted adventure story covers more than just one marine archaeologist's discovery of a twelve hundred year old bridge. Flawlessly written and paced to take the reader on a journey of discovery with main character, Griffin Clonmac," Gregory Lamb – Goodreads
“Jeffrey Perren has created some fine, odious villains for his protagonists to contend with even as they explore and deepen their feelings for each other.” James Ellsworth, Vine Voice
Jeffrey Perren is an American novelist, educated in philosophy at UCLA and in physics at UC Irvine. He was born in Independence, MO. Right now he lives in Sandpoint, Idaho with his wife.
He wrote his first short story at age 12 and went on to win the Bank of America Fine Arts award at age 17. Since then he has published at award-winning sites and magazines from the U.S. to New Zealand. He has had short stories published at the award-winning sites Apollo's Lyre and Mystericale.