Romance Bowen, Marjorie: The Quest of Glory. V1. 1 Apr 2011

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Marjorie Bowen (pseudonym of Mrs Gabrielle Margaret V[ere] Long née Campbell), (1 November 1885 on Hayling Island, Hampshire - 23 December 1952) was a British author who wrote historical romances, supernatural horror stories, popular history and biography. Her total output numbers over 150 volumes with the bulk of her work under the 'Bowen' pseudonym. She also wrote under the names Joseph Shearing, George R. Preedy, John Winch, Robert Paye and Margaret Campbell. As Joseph Shearing, she wrote several sinister gothic romances full of terror and mystery. Many of these stories were published as Berkley Medallion Books. Several of her books were adapted as films
Her books are much sought after by aficianados of gothic horror and received praise from critics. According to Sally Benson in The New Yorker (1965) "Mr Shearing is a painstaking researcher, a superb writer, a careful technician, and a master of horror. There is no one else quite like him".
Bowen's alchoholic father left the family at an early age and was eventually found dead on a London street. After this Bowen's prolific writings were the chief financial support for her family. She was married twice: first, from 1912-16, to a Sicilian named Zefferino Emilio Constanza, who died of turberculosis, and then to one Arthur L. Long. Her first novel was The Viper of Milan (1906), after which she produced a steady stream of writings until the day of her death. Her last, posthumous, novel was The Man with the Scales (1954).

Excerpt
The Austrian guns had ceased with the early sunset, and the desolate city of Prague was silent, encompassed by the enemy and the hard, continuous cold of a Bohemian December: in the hall of Vladislav in the Hradcany, that ancient palace of ancient kings that rose above the town, several French officers wrapped in heavy cloaks were walking up and down, as they had done night after night since the dragging siege began. In the vast spaces of the huge pillarless hall with the high arched Gothic roof, bare walls and floor, imperfectly lit by a few low-placed lamps, their figures looked slight to insignificance, and the sound of their lowered voices was a mere murmur in the great frozen stillness.

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