Book Synopsis (from Amazon)
Daughters of Teutobod is a story of love triumphing over hate, of persistence in the face of domination, and of the strength of women in the face of adversity.
Gudrun is the stolen wife of Teutobod, the leader of the Teutons in Gaul in 102 BCE. Her story culminates in a historic battle with the Roman army.
Susanna is a German American farm wife in Pennsylvania whose husband, Karl, has strong affinity for the Nazi party in Germany. Susanna’s story revolves around raising her three daughters and one son as World War II unfolds.
Finally, Gretel is the infant child of Susanna, now seventy-nine years old and a professor of women’s studies, a US senator and Nobel laureate for her World Women’s Initiative. She is heading to France to represent the United States at the seventy-fifth anniversary of the liberation of southern France, at the commemoration site where her older brother, who was killed in action nearby, is buried. The site is very near the location where the Romans defeated the Teutons.
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*****Meet Author Kurt Hansen*****
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Kurt Hansen is from Racine, Wisconsin, and has lived in Kansas, Texas, and Iowa. He has experience in mental health and family systems as well as in parish ministry and administration. He holds degrees in psychology, social work and divinity. Kurt now lives in Dubuque, Iowa with his wife of 44 years, Dr. Susan Hansen, a professor emerita of international business. Kurt is the author of Gathered (2019). Daughters of Teutobod is his second novel.
Website: https://www.authorkurthansen.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/revkurthansen
Twitter: @Bookgal
Instagram: @therealbookgal
About Writing this Book: Guest Post
You never know where researching a book might take you! While researching the WWII portion of Daughters of Teutobod, I learned about the earliest training of the Army Rangers. After gathering at Carrickfergus in Northern Ireland, the group headed off to the highlands of Scotland for intensive combat training, after which they returned to Carrickfergus to await deployment. A fascinating sidenote for me related to the treatment of Black soldiers, many of whom related how wonderfully they were treated by the Irish people. They were welcomed into homes and pubs and treated as equals among their lighter-skinned compatriots. When some of the White soldiers complained to their commanding officers, the officers addressed the "morale" problem by attempting to force local business owners to impose race restrictions on the soldiers they served. The locals would have none of it! They all stood up to the American officers and reminded them they were guests in Ireland, and that they (pub and restaurant owners, mostly) would not be told whom they could serve in their own country!
For me, the experience of the Black soldiers intersects with the experiences of women in history. Being called to serve (for women, in roles such as mother, wife, nurse, schoolteacher, etc., and for Blacks in roles of servant or even soldier) has come with a tacit exclusion from full participation in the world of those they served. The message has been, “be a good little (fill in the blank), but don’t bother the men. You don’t really belong here.”
~*~*~*~*Exclusive Author Interview~*~*~*~*
On writing:
How did you do research for your book?
Online searches for everything about the Teutons to pre-war Pennsylvania and the earliest training of American Rangers, Northern Ireland, Scotland, and modern-day sites in Paris and Southern France.
Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?
Hardest? Ada.
Easiest? Gretel.
Where do you get inspiration for your stories?
From reading, from people, and from the news.
What advice would you give budding writers?
Read widely. Attend a well-established writer's conference.
Do you have another profession besides writing?
Retired pastor.
How long have you been writing?
After heart disease forced early retirement, I began attending the Iowa Summer Writer's Festival in 2014. I began writing poetry, but soon began writing novels.
What is your next project?
A book entitled Chameleon, about a man in treatment for Borderline personality disorder.
What genre do you write and why?
I write character driven stories and historical fiction because those are what interest me.
What is the last great book you’ve read?
Chances Are by Richard Russo
What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?
A reader wrote that my book connected with her on an emotional level, bringing her to tears at times.
If your book were made into a movie, who would star in the leading roles?
The only one I’ve had an instant intuition for is the elder Gretel, who would surely be portrayed nicely by Meryl Streep.
If your book were made into a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?
Not sure, but during closing credits, I could suggest Respect by Aretha Franklin.
What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?
Greatest reward is the coming together of the various story elements. Greatest challenge is slogging through the research and persisting through the dialogues.
In one sentence, what was the road to publishing like?
It was painful and frustrating.
What is one piece of advice you would give to an aspiring author?
Be open to criticism. Write about what you know.
Which authors inspired you to write?
Philip Roth, Harper Lee, Richard Russo, Flannery O'Connor, Charles Dickens, Michael Crighton, Dan Brown, Kurt Vonnegut, Amy Hassinger
On Rituals:
Where do you write?
Either in my office at home or in a coffee shop.
Do you write every day?
No. But I’ve heard many authors say that I should.
What is your writing schedule?
It tends to be manicky. I may go weeks without writing anything, and then a sudden spurt of energy possesses me and I write furiously for days.
In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?
Only notes.
Fun stuff:
Favorite travel spot?
Toledo, Spain.
Favorite dessert?
Sour cream raisin pie
If you were stuck on a deserted island, which 3 books would you want with you?
To Kill a Mockingbird, A Tale of Two Cities, and the Bible.
Any hobbies? or Name a quirky thing you like to do.
I collect rock-n-roll memorabilia. Signed record albums and photos and so forth.
If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be?
That I care about relationships and helping people.
What TV series are you currently binge watching?
Silent Witness and Cheers
What is your theme song?
“You've Got a Friend” by James Taylor
What is your go-to breakfast item?
Low-carb wraps
Tell us about your longest friendship.
I’ve been going on an annual retreat with six colleagues for over thirty years.
~*~*~*Follow the Rest of the Blog Tour~*~*~*
Book Excerpt
It was the tenth day of August, and the Avenue Gabriel was lush and steamy with the heat of the French summer. The full, green trees lining the grounds of the U.S. Embassy provided shade but no relief from the sauna-like conditions imposed by a 26℃ dewpoint. Graduate student Cecilia Drexel pulled a hankie from her backpack and wiped the sweat beads from her forehead as she arrived at the gate.
“Bon jour,” she said to the Marine who guarded the entrance.
“Ma’am. What is your business at the embassy today?” he asked.
“I am here for an appointment with Ambassador Eberhart.”
“I need to see your passport and identification,” he said, matter-of-factly. Cecilia tossed aside a sweaty strand of unruly, brown hair and dug out the necessary papers. The guard examined her identification, looking back and forth between her and her ID photo.
“I need to search your belongings and your person,” he said. She handed over her backpack and waited while he examined its contents. “Raise your arms please, remove your footwear, and stand spread-eagle, facing me,” he said, and she stepped out of her worn leather flats and spread out. He ran a metal detection wand closely up and down, in and out. “I am sorry for being intrusive, but I must pat you down. If you prefer, I can call for a female Marine.” Cecelia said, “No matter. It’s the way of the world now, I guess.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man replied. “Please turn away from me and remain in a spread-eagle position.” Cecelia complied with his direction. He felt all around her armpits, her breasts and the edges of her brassiere, her sides, the waistband of her slacks, and down the inseams of her legs. He thoroughly examined her shoes before returning them. “You can put these back on now,” he said, “and again, I’m sorry for the intrusion. But as you said, it is the way of the world right now.” He stepped over to a small guardhouse and pulled out his daily log. “What time is your appointment with the Ambassador,” he asked.
“It is scheduled for 2pm,” she said. “I am a bit early.”
“No problem, ma’am,” he said, softening a bit now that he had established her identity and reason for being there. He spoke briefly into a shoulder-mounted mic and received a response. “The Ambassador’s aide will be here shortly to escort you.” He pointed to a stone bench in the nearby shade, “You may sit here while you wait if you wish.”
Cecelia sat down, again pulling out her hankie to clear the moisture from her forehead and eyes. “Is it always this hot here?” she asked the guard. “You must be very uncomfortable in that uniform.”
“It has been unusually warm,” he said. “You get used to it.”
A thin, obsequious-looking young man wearing a tailored suit soon appeared at the gate. “Miss Drexel?”
She looked up. The suit looked maybe one size too large for him. She stood and said, “Cecelia is fine. Yes?”
“Thank you, Cecelia. I am Michel Bertrand, aide to Ambassador Eberhard.” His thick, French accent was apparent. “Welcome to the American Embassy,” he said. “If you would please follow me.”
They walked through the gate and entered through two enormous iron doors into the interior of the impressively columned edifice which housed the Ambassador’s offices. It was hard not to be impressed by the structure itself. Cecelia noticed feeling a sense of safety and strength oozing from every direction, beginning with the statue of Benjamin Franklin in the entry garden.
Her guide began reeling off what seemed to be a canned travelogue. “You will find that history is displayed everywhere you look. Here is the famous “witch” mirror in the foyer, dating back to the American Revolution, so nicknamed because of the distorted image its convex surface produces. And these two marble columns in the entryway display sculptures of two great warriors of your country’s revolution, General George Washington and the Frenchman Marquis de LaFayette. Both busts were created by Bartholdy, who designed the Statue of Liberty. The large portraits on this wall are of the Comte de Rochambeau and the Marquis de Lafayette.”
Looking up, Cecelia could see a grand stairway flanked by ornate balustrades leading to the second floor. “As you can see,” the aide’s travelogue continued, “hanging on the walls of the staircase are two oil paintings by Gilbert Stuart, the larger is of course George Washington and the lesser is James Monroe, who was the first minister to France from the new republic. You may have also noticed the image of the American eagle, which can be seen in the woodwork, in brass finials, in paintings and sculptures, and in the Great Seal of the U.S.A. everywhere.” Cecelia sensed a bit of derisiveness in the way he emphasized the word, ‘everywhere’.
They passed under the staircase to a beautiful atrium area, gracefully appointed with eight magnificent chandeliers. “Here is the Wallace library,” the aide motioned, which contains many historical volumes from both our countries dating back to Revolutionary times.” He motioned for Cecelia to be seated, and he said, “I will inform the Ambassador of your arrival.”
Cecelia sat and considered her surroundings. “The things that have gone on in this place!” she thought to herself. She considered the intrinsic link between the US and its oldest ally, and the immense role that link had played in world events. “Two world wars, the interaction in French Indochina, the partnership in dealing with terrorism . . .” Her musings were interrupted by the return of her guide. “Cecelia, the Ambassador will see you now.”
Cecelia was led into a beautifully appointed office of grand dimensions, with a large, antique-looking desk at one end. Behind the desk was a wall of windows looking out across the Place de la Concorde with its many statues and fountains stretching out beyond the Champs Elysees. Framed by this glorious view of Paris stood the person Cecelia had been waiting to meet, the U.S. Ambassador to France. “Ms. Drexel, please come in and make yourself at home. This is your home, in true terms; you are standing on American soil here. But I suppose you know that.”
“Madame Ambassador, I am so very glad to finally meet you. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me and for considering my proposal. And please, call me Cecelia.”
The Ambassador moved from behind her desk and joined her visitor in a seating area across the room. “It is my namesake you should thank. She is the one who set this up.” She took Cecelia’s hand and grasped it warmly before she sank into a sumptuous brown leather chair and crossed her legs. “And you, Cecelia, if you truly intend to write my grandmother’s life’s story for your dissertation, you had better call me Gretel.”
Notes From Sheila...
So, would you like to read this book? What interests you about the topic? Tell me in the comments below.
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