Skip to main content


Writing Wendl...

I really did want to write a light-hearted tale in case this one turns out to be my last novel (assuming it yet becomes a novel), but it's headed currently toward the shadows. I thought I knew Wendl Von Trier pretty well, having trekked with him through my previous book, The Winged Child .   There, Wendl presents as an elusive solitary, moving above all worldly fray while at the same time nudging events and characters toward a satisfactory conclusion. Sharp and intimidating on the outside and tender and motherly on the inside. A friend to the world, something of a trickster, but in all things working for good outcomes.  That is how I saw Wendl VonTrier. A  púka, mischievous, but essentially harmless, even benevolent, capable of presenting in whatever form or gender the moment required. Wendl seemed the ideal candidate to carry readers off into the literary sunset in good spirits after an exhilarating romp through a fantastical fiction. But all along, it seems, there were depths to

Once there were...


Once there were people here,

Hot breakfasts, childrens’ laughter,

Works planned and accomplished,

Bright dreams, dark imaginings,

Love and hopes and strivings,

And yes, sometimes, too, strife,

Hurts, harsh and hateful words,

Griefs and losses, weeping.

Those who crossed this ground

In holy zeal or blind lust or anger

Now lie quiet and still within it,

Flesh fails before steel and stone,

And in her slow slow time,

The mountain claims her own.



Henry's books.


Popular Posts