Word Wenches

At the Movies

Anne here, and today I'm talking about going to the movies. Some people I know have a regular movie-going habit — they go once a fortnight, or once a month or even every week. Not me. Movies tend to fly past my awareness like lightning — by the time I realize I want to see a movie, it's usually no longer in the cinemas.

I know I can watch movies at home — and I do — but there's something special about sitting in a big darkened cinema, an anonymous person in a crowd of strangers, watching a movie.  There's something about a shared experience — a comedy is better if you're in a group of people all laughing fit to cry. And that mass gasp in a scary movie when something dire happens. Emotion can be catching. I remember the end of a tear-jerker, and the lights came up and everyone was sniffling and wiping their eyes, and smiling sheepishly at each other — because it was a good cry, if you know what I mean.

That sharing of emotion doesn't always happen. One time, years ago, a friend and I skipped school to watch Monty Python's The Life of Brian. The place was almost empty — there was a group of old ladies — and us. We were the only young things in the audience. There was a short film before the main feature — a spoof of a travelogue, narrated by John Cleese, whose voice we instantly recognized.

Ask A Wench - The Point of Historical Romance Novels

Nicola here, introducing this month’s Ask A Wench feature. Today we’re tackling a big question which crops up a lot in different forms:

“With the world in such turmoil at the moment, what's the point of romance novels—especially historical romance novels about a past that's dead and gone?”

As readers and writers, we get this a lot: We’re accustomed to hearing: “What you read/write is frivolous/fluffy/some other disparaging word beginning with “f”. As the Wenches explain so eloquently below, this is to both miss the point and underestimate the power of romantic fiction. Read on to see exactly why, with the world in such turmoil, romance has so much to offer.

The Cats of 2019

by Mary Jo

Cats of 2019

Anyone who has read many of my stories is probably not surprised when a cat wanders through the pages, much as they wander through real life.  It's worth noting that while my characters are fictional (apart from cameos of real historical figures), my cats are just about always real cats, often but not always mine. (That's my Panda on the left.)

Since I finished the Book That Ate My Life just before Christmas, I've been in a light-minded mode, which is why I got the idea of talking about the cats that have appeared in my 2019 books.

 

Early Early Dog Collars

Joanna here, with a posting but not exactly the posting I set out to write. This happens once in a while.

The backstory goes like this; It got cold, it being winter, and I bought Mandela the dog a sweater to keep her warm. This got me thinking about dog clothing in general and protective dog clothing  in particular — like warm sweaters or dog boots at the Isentod. This is in contrast to “dressing Phideau up as Santa’s Elf” dog clothing.

I asked myself, “Did they put sweaters on their dogs in Regency times?” and the answer was pretty much “If they did they didn’t talk about it and they didn’t paint pictures of it.” The British were, in fact, just getting used to the idea of men using umbrellas and women were running around nekkid halfway down from their shoulders so putting a dog in a comfy tweed cape probably didn’t occur to them.

Dogs, like sheep and cats and cows, were expected to deal with the climate on their own.

What dogs did wear, however, was collars. So I will talk about collars.

Into the Blue

Susan here, wishing you a great 2020! Recently Pantone announced their 2020 color of the year – “Classic Blue,” they call it, citing its peaceful, dependable, calming qualities, a color that the Pantone folks say has both a tranquil modernity and an enduring sense of heritage perfect for entering a new decade. Heritage for sure – seeing their color pick, I was immediately reminded of all the beautiful blues that have been regarded over the ages as very special, reserved for royalty, treated as priceless and sacred. And reminded, too, of one of my own personal favorite colors: I am very partial to this sort of blue. 

This saturated hue, and those similiar to it, touch the spectrum somewhere between ultramarine, cobalt, and peacock. It has a natural, familiar feel, like a twilight blue sky, a deep lake in sunshine, a perfect sapphire, a chunk of lapis lazuli—or the beautiful blues in the classic and varied blue-and-white dishes found in Blue Willow china, Spode ware, Wedgwood, Asian porcelain, and more. Over the years I’ve been collecting blue-and-white patterned dishes from antiques to Asian to contemporary--here are just a few of them--and so, while I don’t usually pay much attention to trendy colors, a resurgence of this rich and truly classic blue appeals to me.

Let's look at some of the great blue hues in history . . . 

Neolithic pottery used blue color taken from plants, and sometimes formed beads and small figurines of lapis lazuli, a silicate mineral valued for its intense blue color, mined thousands of years ago.

Lapis was prized in Egypt through the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and straight into today. Lapis is also said to have supportive energies for writers, and just in case, I keep a hefty chunk of raw lapis, brought from far away by a friend, on my desk (photo).

The Egyptians used lapis lazuli in figurines, jewelry and inlays, and decorative arts, and ground it into a pigment powder for paints. It is inlaid in King Tut's spectacular gold and blue coffin covering, and carved in this exquisite cat sculpture. 

They also prized another source of rich blue often called Egyptian blue, which they prepared from oxidized copper, a cyan blue that the Romans later called cerulean. In Egypt and other ancient civilizations, it appeared in painted surfaces, pottery colors, and dyes. The oxidized copper blue, transformed to pigment, appears in Nefertiti's headdress, and is used as a glaze on the quartz-based ceramic of this little hippo figurine. 

The Celts -- and some Neolithic groups before them -- were fond of another source of blue, woad, drawn from a plant of the Brassica family, whose yellow flowers produce a strong and beautiful blue that does not always require a mordant to set, and so was used often for not only fabric dyes and paint, but tattoos as well.

The Picts, so-called by the Romans (they called themselves the Cruithin) for their tendency to paint or tattoo themselves in particular blue designs, used woad, and sometimes copper oxide, to work designs into their skin.

 

The Greatest Gift

Susanna here.

I know our Christmastide posts are officially ended, but I always have a hard time letting go of the holidays, so I hope you’ll indulge me for one more short post on the unexpected treasures that we sometimes get as gifts.

Here’s one of mine.

Twelfth Night

Just calculating which night is Twelfth Night is a madness of calendars and churches. I am afraid to even say with certainty that the twelfth day of Christmas is Epiphany, since not everyone agrees. (Susan King had an explanation or two about the date ) So I will not declare today, January 6^th, anything at all but will talk about Twelfth Night in general.

Way back in 567 the twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany were declared a sacred, festive season. The Tudors, naturally enjoying festivities, decided Epiphany was the start of still another season called Epiphanytide to extend the fun and games. They hid a bean or pea inside a Twelfth-night cake and whoever found the pea in their slice became king or queen of Twelfth-night and led the feast and fun.

The feasting and fun included Christmas carols, mumming (a blog all of its own about costumed characters!), wassail and wassailing, and king cake (a New Orleans tradition to this day. Our esteemed Jo Beverley had more to say here). In many places, decorations had to come down on this day, but this was also the day to add the kings to the nativity scene. In earlier times, Christmas trees were decorated with fruits and nuts—hard to come by and expensive—so when the tree came down, everyone gathered to feast on the ornaments. I kind of prefer that to stuffing all that junk back in boxes to be stored for another year! Of course, this was also the night the Yule Log was removed, leaving only a flame to light the next fire.

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night was written to be played on this night’s revels. That’s a rather fine mummer’s play! A little bit more about mummers here .

(although this image appears to be Italian and a lovely spring day, not exactly an English 12th night!)

I’m not sure I have the energy to carry festivities for twelve entire nights! Christmas and New Years are about my limit. I wonder if in medieval times this wasn’t a way of the poor squeezing just a little bit more food out of the wealthy during a time of year when food was hard to come by? They could dress in costumes, put on plays, and the wealthy would provide banquets for the entertainment. Food has certainly been a large part of Christmastide, with little to do with the perceived origin of the holiday.

But today we all go back to work, so I’m guessing king cakes aren’t on anyone’s agenda. When do you take your tree down?

Gratitude

Andrea here, We've reached the 11th day of our Wenchly Christmastide posts, and are winding down the celebration in readiness for starting the new year in earnest. For the most part, we've been having light-hearted fun with them, as befits the festive season, where we raise a toast to the joys of family, friendship and holiday cheer.

But there's also a reflective side to the holidays and the start of a new year, where many of us take some quiet moments to reflect on our blessings and offer up gratitude for all the gifts in our lives. So I thought I'd mention just a few of things that are on my mind, especially as so many people around the globe are facing such difficult and dangerous times.

 

Quiz — Ten lords a'leaping#2

Anne here.
On day 10 of our Christmastide posts, here's a little quiz about some of the lords (or dukes or marquesses or earls or barons) of historical romance. Note down your answers with a pen and paper, because you'll have to leave the wench site to find the correct answers. The link is at the bottom of the quiz. Then come back and tell us how you did. 

1) An independently-minded heroine plans to free her foolish brother from the destructive influence of this dark, destructive and far from handsome lord, but when she travels to Paris to confront him, he turns the tables on her.     
        a) Sarah MacLean - Brazen and the Beast
        b) Loretta Chase - Lord of Scoundrels
        c) Mary Balogh - Slightly Married

2)  Attempting to save her flighty light-skirt younger sister from a known rake, our heroine is kidnapped by mistake. How can she convince the rake she's a virtuous female? Reader, she shoots him.             
        a) Anne Gracie - Tallie's Knight    
        b) Julie Garwood - Honor's Splendour
        c) Georgette Heyer - Devil's Cub

The Kissing Bough

by Mary Jo

If you've read many Christmas Regency romances, I'm sure you've encountered the kissing bough.  Christmas trees didn't become common in Britain until the Victorian age, and were brought into fashion by the Royal Family's German connections. 

But the kissing bough has deep roots in British history and is part of the tradition of bringing evergreens into the house at the holiday season.  It's essentially a globe of greens with a bunch of mistletoe fastened to the bottom. Traditionally one white mistletoe berry was removed each time there was a kiss.  I presume that festive householders would refresh the berries as necessary!  The image at the right is from the North Pole site, with instructions on how to make your own kissing bough.  

Over time, kissing boughs became more elaborate, with ribbons and candles and fruit.  I thought it would be fun to go to YouTube and find a couple of videos of people making kissing boughs.  This first is from English Heritage and goes behind the scenes of Kenilworth Castle to see how a Tudor kissing bough is made.  (It helps if you can wander into your knot garden and cut off some rose hips. <G>)