Deirdre Chapman's Blog
July 3, 2014
Under an Aegean sun.
Last night I ate seafood souvlaki amidst the hum of half a dozen languages at the tiny table-crammed Venetian harbour in the village of Naoussa on the Greek island of Paros. Moored out on the marina beyond the fishing caiques were a Turkish gulet and four hundred-foot motor yachts. The narrow bouanvillea-hung passages of the village were stalked by beautiful people and lined with boutiques.
The village I first came to, blazing white on the edge of its spectacular bay, had only a basic draper;s shop and hardware store and a scattering of tourists on its beautiful beaches.
The change in fortunes of the scattered islands of the Cyclades have not, however,
driven out the spirits that haunt these rocky outcrops. The tension between past and present is the theme of my atmospheric thriller, The Noontide Sun, set in one such island.
The village I first came to, blazing white on the edge of its spectacular bay, had only a basic draper;s shop and hardware store and a scattering of tourists on its beautiful beaches.
The change in fortunes of the scattered islands of the Cyclades have not, however,
driven out the spirits that haunt these rocky outcrops. The tension between past and present is the theme of my atmospheric thriller, The Noontide Sun, set in one such island.
