It is human nature to enjoy happiness, and although humour in books is not the enduring kind of happiness, it can bring us snippets of it. Only the most serious of books would not benefit from a little humour woven into the text. My novel, “Julia’s Violinist” is a fairly serious story of a postwar love triangle. I’d like to share with you an excerpt from this novel to show that everything need not be dour at all times, even in a setting like that of Julia’s story, where love still thrives among the ruins of war.
Excerpt from Julia’s Violinist:
He stood in the doorway holding a bouquet of flowers in each hand. “For the lady of the house,” he said. A wave of his blondish hair fell forward as he inclined his head in a quick bow to Brigitte. Julia took a deep breath as Brigitte motioned for her to come closer.
“This is my sister, Julia Feldmann. Our new friend, Karl Werner.” Karl gave the second bouquet to Julia and shook her hand.
“So happy to meet you, Julia. I hope you like flowers too.”
“I love flowers. Very nice to meet you, Karl.” He was charming. No doubt about that.
“Mutti, Mutti!” Steffie ran into the house, gasping for breath. “I saw a man picking the neighbours’ flowers.”
“Psh-sh-t! Steffie!” Julia said.
“That’s him!” She pointed, mouth agape, and hid behind her mother.
“They were being wasted over there and I knew there were two lovely ladies in this house who needed them. Now, Steffie—is that your name? What a pretty name. You won’t tell on me, will you?”
“No.” Steffie peeked at Karl from behind Julia’s dress.
Julia watched the smile playing around Karl’s lips as he wooed Steffie into becoming an accomplice in his crime.
“Let’s get these lovely flowers into water so they haven’t been picked in vain,” Brigitte said. “Why don’t we sit in the living room? Steffie you can go on back out and play.”
“Don’t forget to keep our secret,” Karl called after her.
“I won’t,” she said, skipping out the door. “Sofie! Guess what!” they heard her call.