‘He was eleven when he was taken. On a day of early summer from almost outside his apartment house out into the bustle of the Village, and then east across Third Avenue under the webbed iron feet of the roaring El into regions of the great city that he had never seen before, smelling of garbage and horse dung and thick, acrid smoke.

And all the time, the old man held Theo’s hand in an iron grip and kept up a quick pace, pulling him along the sidewalk, so he had almost to run if he wasn’t to fall over. He had seen the old man several times in recent weeks, waiting under the spreading chestnut tree at the corner of his street in the early evening. He’d stared at Theo and his mother as they went past with his eyes glowing like coals under the rim of his battered old derby hat, which he wore as if it were an upturned soup bowl, pulled down over his ears like Charlie Chaplin.

He had the hat on now and the same long black alpaca coat, shiny at the elbows, which he was wearing over a clean but frayed white shirt buttoned to the collar with no tie, and Theo could see that in the side of his scuffed shoe there was a small hole that opened and closed as he walked, as if it were another beady eye.

He told Theo that he was his grandfather, speaking slowly in a thick guttural accent, and Theo thought he probably was. He didn’t look like someone who told lies, and besides, there was something about the old man that reminded Theo of his father. Four days before, they’d been walking home and his father had stopped hard in his tracks, telling him sharply to get on home to his mother. But Theo had turned back at the stoop and had seen his father arguing, waving his hands in the air but seeming to have no effect on the old man, who stood there as immobile as the tree behind him. And maybe it was then that Theo had noticed the resemblance.

Afterward, his parents had talked in hushed voices and his mother had cried as she often did, and his father had gotten hot under the collar and said that there were laws to stop people being harassed in the street, and that he had a good mind to complain to the authorities if it happened again. Authorities was one of Theo’s father’s favorite words—he was a great believer in law and order. But it seemed like there was no need to get them involved this time. There were no further sightings of the old man, and today Theo’s mother had woken up with another of her terrible headaches—the curse she called la jaqueca—and had sent him to the pharmacy on MacDougal with a quarter to get some more of her yellow pills. And on the way, without any warning, it had happened.

The old man had not been in his usual place under the tree; instead, it was as if he had appeared out of nowhere like a circus magician, and Theo was so surprised that he didn’t try to resist, at least at first, allowing himself to be led away with his small hand still clutching his mother’s coin, all enclosed inside the old man’s huge calloused palm.’

If you are intrigued by the opening paragraphs of The Palace at the End of the Sea then I am sure that you will love the sweeping tale of a young man who comes of age and crosses continents in search of an identity and a cause at the dawn of the Spanish Civil War. This is a thrilling, timely and emotional historical saga, bringing to life real historical events and creating authentic characters:

New York City, 1929. Young Theo Sterling’s world begins to unravel as the Great Depression exerts its icy grip. He finds it hard to relate to his parents: His father, a Jewish self-made businessman, refuses to give up on the American dream, and his mother, a refugee from religious persecution in Mexico, holds fast to her Catholic faith. When disaster strikes the family, Theo must learn who he is. A charismatic school friend and a firebrand girl inspire him to believe he can fight Fascism and change the world, but each rebellion comes at a higher price, forcing Theo to question these ideologies too.

From New York’s Lower East Side to an English boarding school to an Andalusian village in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, Theo’s harrowing journey from boy to man is set against a backdrop of societies torn apart from within, teetering on the edge of a terrible war to which Theo is compulsively drawn like a moth to a flame.

Simon Tolkien is the author of No Man’s Land, Orders from Berlin, The King of Diamonds, The Inheritance, and Final Witness. He studied modern history at Trinity College, Oxford, and went on to become a London barrister specializing in criminal defence. Simon is the grandson of J.R.R. Tolkien and is a director of the Tolkien Estate. In 2022 he was named as series consultant to the Amazon TV series The Rings of Power. He lives with his wife, vintage fashion author Tracy Tolkien, and their two children, Nicholas and Anna, in Southern California.

The Palace at the End of the Sea was published on 1^st June 2025. Thank you Hannah Born and FMcM Associates for the invitation to join the blogtour.