Military Masters Ball. Hunt Ball. Hunt dinner dress.

Frequently Asked Questions

The questions I am asked the most often are the ones that matter most : “why this world, why these characters, why now.”

The answers are here, as honestly as I can give them. If something is not covered, the contact page is always open. I answer every message personally so long as it is asked professionaly.

There is a photograph of me on this page in scarlet Hunting Tails. It was taken at a Military Masters Ball; a formal dinner of the kind that the Edwardian world understood instinctively and the modern world has almost entirely forgotten how to do. Different clothes for different occasions was not vanity. It was respect for the event, for the other guests, for the ritual itself.

The dining room was once the most important room in any house. Certainly until well into the twentieth century, dinner was not merely a meal. It was the event around which the entire day was organised. The table was set with intention. The clothes were chosen with care. Conversation followed its own courtesies. After dinner, the men remained at the table with port, politics, the business of the world. While the ladies withdrew.

Whether one approves of that arrangement or not, it produced something we have largely lost: the sense that gathering at a table together was a serious and meaningful act.

The red jacket is not affectation. It is a reminder that some things are worth preserving. That dressing for dinner (truly dressing, with the right clothes and the right intention) is a form of civilisation. And that civilisation, in the end, is what I (Jasper Brooke) writes about.


Formal Table Setting at Brooke Manor

Above: Table setting at Brooke Manor

Note: The dining table is not merely furniture in Jasper’s novels: it is a stage.

From the very first chapter of The Kenyalang, where a Hunt Breakfast is held in the Gothic splendour of Bartholomew's Folly at Thornfield Hall, a piper leading the hunting party to table, champagne toasts to the Master and the Hunt, the Pembroke coat of arms presiding over the fireplaces etc. The meal is where the story moves forward, where alliances are tested, where things unsaid become as important as things spoken.

This was intentional. Every dinner in these novels carries weight. The food, the wine, the seating, the conversation. Nothing is accidental. If two characters are placed next to each other at table, there is a reason. If a toast is raised, it matters.

Something was lost when we stopped treating the dining table as a place of ceremony and intention. These books are, in part, an attempt to remember what that felt like.