Friday, May 20, 2016


Presents its latest title:

Of a Temporary Anchorite

Deluxe, Limited Edition
Superior paper
Silk cloth covers
Three-strand embroidery thread
Silk ribbons
Hand-sewn and cased
Color illustrations
212 pages

The Inside Job


Here begins the confessions of one anchored in the desert, continuing what began in a valley in the French Pyrenees 23 years ago—this evolution in the expanse of memory’s incarnations  as it lives the questions.
   These incarnations have taken form through many entries and departures; expansions and dissolutions; accumulations and renunciations of inner and outer possessions that no longer serve.  All this, so to move on to the new.  The process has proven to be circular—an ongoing journey to the center of being, the images of which I have attempted to depict in embroidered mandalas.
     In my life in the desert, I found companionship with CG Jung’s Red Book, alchemical texts, dreams, dialogues with archetypes, and a few special friends—first responders on our path to wholeness.  A year into this inner exploration I found Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Confessions.  He, like myself, bore the wounds of childhood abandonment.  He also wandered the earth destitute until he found his calling.  He felt at home in the foothills of the Alps, circa 1700's as I had flourished in the foothills of the Pyrenees, circa 1990’s.  
      Little did Rousseau know in the 1700’s that he was crusading psychoanalytic therapies, easily at our disposal in the 21st century.  In his Confessions and Reveries of a Solitary Walker that followed, he struggled to achieve victory over his emotional anguish.  He sought to find understanding of his inner self while not only unsupported by his philosophe peers, but condemned by them.  Banished from the society he loved, he held anchor to his own truth.  He also sought meaning for his physical ailments and was often in the grips of maladie imaginaire.  But imagined illness can appear and feel real.  Today, there is growing knowledge that the body and psyche’s symptoms are wise informants.  I have named these informants bodysoul.
     I continue the evolution of my story in these pages with the understanding that she whom I call soul is the giver of  images and the recipient.  Who am I to know that, in obedience to her and therefore myself, she is not expanding our little story to a larger one?  Who am I to presume that any phrase or poem has arrived from the poet and not the muse?  Who am I?  Only the omega to her alpha and the servant to her crown.  
     Perhaps we all have an anchorite within, a small voice in the wilderness of the unconscious that responds to Juvenal’s words, vitam impendere vero—‘To thine own self be true.’    Perhaps in our own unique ways we are living through our questions to an end that never ends.  I begin again not knowing the answers.  I can only say I tried.


Click to enlarge

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Paperback Editions

Marianne Press 

is proud to announce the publication of 10 paperback titles 
by Pamela Preston.


You may purchase a paperback book by Pamela Preston
at Amazon by clicking the following link:  

Sunday, March 3, 2013

The Sound of Loneliness

New Title by Marianne Press

Poem Fragments
Each book custom made:
 sewn, hand bound, illustrated,
 printed on linen paper
80 pages
click on image for larger view
click on image for larger view

For ordering your custom book
contact the publisher at

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

PÂMOISON, Second Edition

Marianne Press releases
the second edition of PÂMOISON.  
Twenty original books--hand sewn, cased, and pressed
in European bookmaking-guild technique. 

Click for larger view

Sunday, September 11, 2011

PÂMOISON, a satire.

Marianne Press is proud to announce the publication of the novella


130 pages
Limited edition of 15
100% cotton paper, covered with imported fabric
Hand sewn and hand bound exclusively by Marianne Press.


"Thank you for introducing me to the 21st century--
What you’ve written is brilliant, a classic tale that is completely original and captures the idiocy of our culture. It is charming and enchanting and I laughed out loud several times. You have a gift for satire, and a fluid style with deep wisdom and truth. Your new/old voice is fresh and confident. What a treat! And I will want to read it again, when I have it in hand. You’ve turned many lemons into luscious lemonade."
Ann Yeomans
Archetypal therapist

"There is an antic madness to satire, a wacky playfulness that is as wise as it is foolish, as devoted to mischief as to the sanctity of a threshold life, which swooning Pâmoison represents. Reading Pâmoison did a great deal for me, Pamé. I found a companion in your fluent voice, and I got swept away. It's a brave work, packed with urgent questions yet delivered with an honest and enormously heartening voice that praises as much as it decries. I see now that the book is a repository of values, and the narrative is a meditation on the very nature of signification, of self and society. I was shaken by the breadth of what you accomplished in 37,000 words. Thank you for reminding me that our craft is also an art."
Al Attanasio
Fantasy Novelist



Thursday, September 23, 2010

La Chanson de Pamé La Calmette.

Marianne Press is proud to announce the release
of “the little red book,” the hard cover edition of
La Chanson de Pamé La Calmette.

105 pages.
 Limited edition of 15.
100% cotton paper, covered with  imported red silk;
 hand sewn and hand bound exclusively by Marianne Press.

Marion Woodman

Congratulations on your book, La Chanson de Pamé La Calmette - "a result of ten years of questing the birth of the Feminine." What an immense journey you have made, spiritually and physically. I am profoundly moved by your book. You have dropped into your very depths and allowed its rhythms to dance on the pages. Your images are vital, transforming, into the body from the body.

Ann Yeomans
Archetypal Therapist
La Chanson de Pamé La Calmette is a very moving evocation of the deepest energies inside, and of beauty in the midst of inquisition, imbued with images of mysterious spirit. Pamé's voice has the authority of the classical and archetypal, as if goddesses still walk the earth. It's as though this poem has been unearthed after thousands of years of burial, yet it speaks of the trials and persecutions we face today in struggling for our soul's voice and longing

This epic poem is a personal odyssey framed by the poet's life in the French Pyrenees, New England, and Ireland - spanning ten years. It is an exploration of a feminine soul's transformation across time. Alternating between free verse and couplet rhyme, this intimate story will stimulate the inner journeys of both men and women - singing through the recesses of human struggle to the birth of new meaning for the individual and, therefore, the world.



La Chanson de Pamé La Calmette is extracted from the trilogy of books:  GODDESSLANDS.  These books span 10 years of a personal odyssey.
The caves and goddesslands (page 3) are the central  location of this myth, situated in the French Pyrenees.  For here, in actuality, were found Paleolithic stag drawings and other Celtic symbology.  The minuscule ivory statuette of Vénus de Brassempouy (represented on the cover of this book), was discovered at the end of the 19th century in the French department of Landes in the Pyrenees.  She is known to have been carved around 20,000 BC.  Much later, during the Inquisition of the 13th century, many fleeing Cathars hid in Pyrenean caves.

The reader will find in the glossary further explanation of some words and terminology also derived from the context of the trilogy of books: GODDESSLANDS.

The books and the song of Pamé are her true story.


My name is Pamé La Calmette
And I was born in the valley of my ancestors.
The cool light of the moon and the moist spirits
Of the earth named me for the sake
Of the tiny hamlet from whose crèche I emerged.
My old name, they told me
Was washed away with the tide
And returned to the world of my fathers.
There, it would dissolve in the mystery of its own time,
Never to be known again.

I took my first breath in the twilight before the dawn.
The first sound I heard was the splashing of rain
Against ancient stones
And the rains were warm, as it was spring.
I then heard a murmured mooing
As I opened my eyes for the first time,
Looking into the eyes of a calf also born new
And what I saw was clear and good.

But unlike the calf, I could not ready stand,
I was weak with no one to carry me
Save the Earth and the Moon.
And so,
I waited for their strength.

And as I waited, I sensed the presence
Of my ancestors,
A host of women from the caves and goddesslands,
And they were crying,
And their tears were bitter.
They came into form naked and branded,
And their flesh was sore.
Some of their heads were bareshaven,
Others had hair singed at the edges;
Some tresses were matted with blood and with sweat;
And their eyes had been weeping
And their tears had been sweetened
By a beauty
Borne from the centuries
Of suffering to wisdom,
Of love unrequited,
The sorrow of Mother unheard.

And they formed a round table
With their rounded, soft bodies
Among the calves and their mothers
On the fragrant hay.
And for days (or for weeks, I'm not certain)
They told me their stories
Of persecution and power,
Of repression and fear;
Their spirals of depths and the risings
The fallings, the crashings, the cycles of change
The evictions from temples, the tortures;
The woe of their grief, the threads of their hope,
These stories spanned thousands of years.
I was young. I was weak.
I wanted to flee.
But I had not the strength
So, I stayed.
And I listened...obediently.

Contact the publisher at:

Limited, deluxe edition of 15
$75 plus shipping.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Marianne Press is proud to announce
the last volume of
The Goddesslands Trilogy


Book III