Word Wenches

Lady Beware! A Chat with Jo Beverley

Hi, Jo!

This particular interview is on the occasion of your book Lady Beware being released, so we’ll start there.  I’ve read the story and can certify that it's a roaring good read, with a hero who is perhaps your darkest and most tormented.  Can you tell us a bit about the genesis of the story?

JB: I keep meaning to keep a diary of the genesis of a book, but somehow I’m part way into them before I remember. If I remember correctly, I was playing with a story for Thea as I was finishing To Rescue A Rogue. (That features her brother, Lord Darius Debenham.) A scene came to me of her meeting a mysterious, threatening stranger in the private parts of her home during a ball. It was a vignette, but I hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.

At the same time, I was in the final stretches of To Rescue a Rogue and had a military officer turn up to offer proof that Dare hadn’t fled the fighting at Waterloo. I wasn't happy with a deus ex machina, but that seemed to be how it was shaping up – until the walk-on military officer gave off vibes, and I realized he knew Dare and had issues with him. And somehow, it all spun out from there.

That's what writing by the flying into the mist madness means, folks! It’s always exciting when a character becomes instantly vivid and assertive, but I had all sorts of problems, starting with Lord Darien and Lord Darius in the same book. Come on! I tried to persuade Darien that wasn't really his name, but he’s not the most persuadable person, as Thea finds out. Fortunately Dare's soon off-stage, so it's not too silly.

But it was clear that the man in the corridor was Darien, and it all began to take on a life of its own. For example, I didn't expect the instant sparks between Thea and Darien. I thought she was much more reserved. I was angling toward a forced marriage, but she did the, "You've got to be joking!" and I rolled my eyes and went with it. It was pretty well like that all the way through the book.

MJP:  Lady Beware is the 14th book in your long running Company of Rogues Regency historical series.  Ten are about Rogues proper, and other stories are about friends and connections.  (And there's a novella, too!  Here's more information:  http://www.jobev.com/booklist.html ) Will you tell us the premise of the series, and how it grew? 

JB: Slowly.*G* I wrote the first draft (my title then was A Regency Rape, which tells you how much I knew) in 1977. I created the Company of Rogues (then the Harrow Band) because Nicholas needed friends, but I already had the idea of doing spin-off stories.

Most of the Rogues were in place then, except Lucien, Marquess of Arden. I created him separately around 1989 when I wanted to try my hand at a harder, more physical sort of hero. When I dug out the old Regency Rape, I realized I could add him to the Rogues, and I ended up selling the two books together. My titles then were The Delaney Bride and The Pride of the de Vaux. Better, but I still didn't get it about titles.*G* They ended up, of course, as An Arranged Marriage and An Unwilling Bride.

An Arranged Marriage came out in 1991, and as you say, you wrote the first draft of that in 1977.  What is it like to write a series over so many years? 

These days, with the popularity of series books coming out close together, it probably does seem strange, but in the early nineties, it didn’t seem so to me. Nor did moving between different periods;  I was interleaving Rogues books with medievals and the Georgian Mallorens. I'm very grateful to my readers for their patience.

The length of time and the number of books has been a very special experience, creating a deep relationship with these men, especially the original Rogues. After all, Nicholas, Lucien, and the ones in An Arranged Marriage have been alive in my brain for thirty years, even though their stories have only spread over three years from 1814 to 1817.

MJP: You and I were first published at almost exactly the same time, and we were both drawn to writing series from the beginning, but I cut my Fallen Angels trilogy off at seven books because I felt longer would get out of hand. <g> How do you keep track of so many characters and not clog the stories with them?

JB: I don’t include them all in every book, because that would become ridiculous, I think. And they do have lives to live. They can't all be in Melton hunting, or in London for the season, or in Ireland, Dorset, or especially Canada. Sometimes readers complain that they haven't heard what's happening to so-and-so, and I do try to slip in a bit of gossip now and then, but I try to let reality trump.

I enjoy bringing in whichever seem to have true roles to play, however, and then we see how their lives are going, and also how they've changed. We’ve seen them all go through major life events and some serious challenges. They've married, taken up new responsibilities, had or acquired children. Even more interesting to me has been the way relationships between them have shifted as a result.

Also, of course, an equal number of women have joined the Company of Rogues, becoming full members, of course. No sexual inequality allowed. They've brought their own characters and expertise, such as Susan's familiarity with smugglers, and Blanche's with the seamy side of life.

The trouble is, the Rogues and the Mallorens have spoiled me for writing simply one-offs or even shorter series. I want worlds – big, complex, ever-changing worlds with large, interlocked casts. And just at a time when some readers are getting fed up with series, and are not willing to wait a decade or two for them to spin out. (Quite reasonably, I must say, if I put my reader hat on.)

MJP: How do you keep all the details straight?

JB: I keep thinking computers are made for a task like this, but I haven’t found them to be much use yet. I've tried various databases, but somehow they don't sync with the way my mind works, and still, the human brain can do things that computers can't, so that's the key element. I have put all the principal characters into a genealogy program to try to keep track of the babies and known relatives.

I started with file cards and now I have a massive three-ring binder, but there are so many scraps of information that don't fit neatly into any one place, so I stuff them somewhere and hope.  Then there are the things I never knew I'd want to know. How was I supposed to realize ten years ago that the name of the neighbour’s dog would be important? (That’s a made-up example, just in case anyone’s mentally searching.)

In truth, some of my readers are probably clearer about some details than I am. I had an e-mail a couple of weeks ago from a reader who’d just discovered me and read all the Rogues in order, one after the other.

MJP: What conclusions have you reached about writing long series?

JB: That it’s the ideal way to go if an author enjoys world building, but daunting if one thinks about it. (But then so is writing a novel. It took me years to get the guts to sit down and start work on something that might not be finished for a year.) Even just writing a story for each Rogue meant ten novels (though in the end I didn’t write one about Hal, but wove his story in with the rest.) Ten novels is a life’s work to some authors. So I'm not sure anyone could or should set out to do it.

Put like that, I suppose my whole writing life is flying into the mist!

It was great to move into the post-Rogues phase, to not have threads to tie up anymore. Even though there are Rogues in Lady Beware and a Rogue connection, all the pivotal events rise from Darien's family and history. That was writerly fun.

MJP:  You also have a much loved Georgian series about the Malloren family, which is headed by the dark and irresistibly sexy Marquess of Rothgar.  After the Mallorens were married off, you wrote two connected books, Winter Fire and A Most Unsuitable Man.  Will you be doing more stories in that world?

JB: Talking of writerly fun, that's what I’m working on now. :)

The MIP (Manuscript, Mess, and/or Masterpiece In Progress) starts from scratch, which is fun when most of my recent stories have been building on others.  Thus far has the young, rakish Earl of Huntersdown is helping the mysterious Sister Immaculata from Italy (but is she really a nun?) by giving her a lift through northern France toward England. Then there's a thunderstorm and creepy peasant women, and that's just the beginning of their problems. Wench Susan Scott tagged this story, “The rake on the make, and the nun on the run.” *G*

MJP: What are the differences you find between writing Regencies and Georgians?

JB:  Oh, lots. Any change of period changes everything, even if only in subtle ways. The two generations between the 1760s and the 1810s cover the developments of the agricultural and industrial revolutions, the Enlightenment and then the closing in as a reaction to the American and French Revolutions. These things had powerful effects on people’s thoughts, values, and morality.

Changes in costume and travel were radical and there was even a move from a stylized aristocratic culture which was almost theatrical in its etiquette to something we see as much more “natural,” though in fact it was often structured just as much.

All this affects the tone of a novel and also the logistics of the plot. I can’t have people racing around in 1760 as they could in 1816. As an example, my first doodles of the rake/nun book (which had neither a rake nor a nun) were Regency and set in England. I was having a lot of trouble finding a rational route that would be slow, chancy, and likely to land them in trouble.

As soon as I thought of it being a Georgian, however, it was easy. Nearly every road in England was slow, chancy, and likely to land them in trouble. Then I put them in France, which makes everything even more unpredictable.

Though the Regency wasn’t nearly as pure and prissy as some people like to think, the Georgian was much more disorderly, racy, and in some ways quite amoral. This makes sexual adventures more plausible, because society truly was less censorious.

The other major difference is that in 1760 the royal Court was still central to the lives of the aristocracy. One simply can’t have characters ignoring it, especially if they’re in London. (And if not, why not? For part of the year, at least.) The king was a person of considerable power still.

By the Regency, the king’s insanity had pretty well killed the Court and though the Regent assumed many of the royal functions, he couldn’t create the same sort of aura. Society spun off into a social whirl largely apart from royalty and rigid court formality.

In Lady Beware I had fun using that social whirl. I don't always use a lot of Regency Society in my books, in part because it's so easy to fall into a rut of cliches, but as Darien's purpose is to be accepted by the ton during the Season, that was the setting. I romped merrily through balls, routs, Almack's, theatres, and parks, and included some manly stuff such as Jackson's, Tatt's, and horse races. I even remembered to mention that Darien got the royal nod, because that was still important. Can't ignore court entirely.

I tried to get them to an Opera House masquerade, as described in Pierce Egan's Life in London, but again Thea put her foot down. She's one tough chick in her own well-bred, daughter of a duke, way.

That's when I remembered Lady Harroving's masquerade. In my first book, Jane and Lord Wraybourne have adventures at his aunt, Lady Harroving's risque masquerade ball. I'd already used the now Lord and Lady Wraybourne in an earlier scene, so I gleefully dragged out this, too. It worked just as well, and was much more believable. Much though I'd have enjoyed it, Thea Debenham was not going to sneak out of her house to attend a thoroughly scandalous event. As I said, I love it when characters truly come to life. And I loved what we learned about her parents during the approved preparations for her to attend a masquerade.

I just came across this painting of a young Regency hussar officer. As Darien
was in the hussars and mentions the ridiculously ornate uniform, I thought you
might enjoy it. And that Michael Bartlett is not a bad looking fellow, either!
Could almost be Canem Cave at about eighteen... But no, he's too unshadowed. In
an alternate dimension, perhaps.

http://www.amillionbrushstrokes.co.uk/miniature/bartlettmofficer10hussars1808.jpg
 
I hope everyone's going to have as much fun with Lady Beware as I had writing it.

Jo, thanks so much for sharing your writing process, and all those delicious little historical tidbits!  I hope other readers enjoy Lady Beware as much as I did. 

Mary Jo

Coming Attractions

Popping in briefly to announce our upcoming guests.  On May 30 (tomorrow), Mary Jo will interview Jo in connection with the release of Jo's LADY BEWARE.  Do drop by and see what Jo has to say about her latest! 

In June, we have two guests lined up.  Eloisa James will be interviewed by Loretta on Friday, June 8, to celebrate the release of Eloisa's DESPERATE DUCHESSES. Eloisa will have a little contest, and the lucky winner will get a book and a box of (get ready) chocolate dominoes! 

On June 11, Susan Sarah will be the gracious host to Avon editor Erika Tsang when she spends the day blogging with us. Here's your chance to find out what makes an editor tick! 

Mark your calendars and come on by! We now return you to Edith's post about older and wiser heroes and heroines! (see below)

Older, wiser: How come I'm not in a Romance?

I'm older than when I was when I last talked to you!

Well, I know that every day I'm a day older.  But last week marked the successful conclusion of another of my journeys around the sun.  And Hoorah for me!

When I was young I hated all birthdays after my twenty-first - the time when I could drink legally. But now? I'm wiser.  I don't have as many rings around my middle as a Sequoia, mind you, but I've come to realize that every year is an accomplishment, and I'm grateful for it.

Which leads me to a question I really don't know the answer to.  Why aren't there more romances with... (ahem.  Cough, cough...) older heroines?   I'm not talking passion at the Happy Acres Nursing Home (although I do know of many such affaires.  Extreme age, like extreme youth, is apt to cast off inhibitions.)

I'm talking about the absence of mature females as heroines in historical romances.

Please understand this doesn't mean I want to write one! I once did write a book with an older hero and heroine ( THE CHALLENGE ) Not ancients.  Thirty and fortyish love the second time around. You know?  It was a good book but it didn't sell like books with hot young cookies in them. (Although, note please, it's fine to have a secondary romance, with an older couple finding joy with each other.  As long as that story stays in the background.)

I read a romance with a middle-aged couple as the hero and heroine.  It included all the stretch marks and thigh flab, prostate trouble, menapausal headaches and the need for gels.  (This was before Viagra, but if it hadn't been, that would have been there too.) The writing was good, the author was one of my favorites.  But the book made me squirm. The concept just wasn't.... well, hot.

I confess, I used to write Historicals with much older heroes hooking up with young chickie heroines.  Forgive me, I didn't know better, and anyway, that's how it often went in olden days.  Maybe because women died younger then?  Maybe because the great Georgette Heyer wrote a bunch of such stories, as did most popular writers of that time?  Recall please, that it was ever so.  Jane Eyre was not thirtyish.  Mr. Rochester was well past it. 

But these days the idea of an mature man: all moody and broody, scarred and cynical, all wise and experienced, getting it on with an ignorant, innocent Miss makes me think of an episode of one of those 'Gotcha you vile old internet perv! 'TV exposes. In truth, older gents with dewy lasses now smack of pederesty to me.

Still, it's okay for men to be a lot older than women in a heroic romance.  Is this because women like to cast off their real selves, whatever their age, when they immerse ourselves in a book?  It's not just a female preference.  I note that many Fantasy epics begin with a boy or a girl, jut orphaned by the evil forces of the bad guys, setting out to seek revenge.

Youth is so much more flexible in all ways.  Do our fantasies lead us to prefer to read about youth with it's unknown horizons and infinite possibilities, unencumbered by the fretful realities of marriage, children and aging?

Maybe that is the answer. What do you think? And what do you think is the right age for our Hero and Heroine?

<-- Too old for a hero and heroine?  Maybe not sez Layton!

And the Winner is ...

We have another book winner!  Loretta was interviewed on 5/11 and 5/18 by Susan Miranda, and those who left comments were eligible for a drawing for NOT QUITE A LADY.   We've pulled a name from the hat--er, from the bonnet--and the winner is Kalen Hughes!  Congratulations, Kalen! Please send your mailing address to Whipster Sherrie at [email protected] and we'll get that book in the mail to you. 

A huge thanks to all of you who submit comments to our posts.  Keep 'em coming!  They often inspire ideas for future posts, and if we use your comment, you'll win a book!  And speaking of winners, check out the Anniversary Week winners in the post below, to see if your name is there!

Congrats to our Contest Winners!

To celebrate our one year anniversary, the seven Word Wenches are awarding autographed books to SEVEN lucky winners!  In honor of our week-long Naked Anniversary Blog, we're giving away copies of books with half-naked guys on the covers (and one naked horse)! 

These seven winners, all chosen at random from the many visitors who left comments this week, will get one of these books by random author decision. Congratulations to all the winners listed below!

THE WINNERS: Kathy Kremer, Pam P, Susan/DC, Margaret Evans Porter, Jane O'Sullivan, Maya Missani, and Robyn L.

Actually it's eight winners -- a SPECIAL PRIZE goes to Word Wenches visitor KAY, for posting the original question that started us talking about nakedness in history in the first place. Thanks, Kay, and congratulations! You win one of Mary Jo Putney's books, to be decided. Please contact Sherrie (email listed below) for the details. 

THE BOOKS: these will go out into the mail soon, one per winner (prizes assigned by author choice) -- here are the covers in all their fabulous, uncovered glory:

PROVIDENCE, Miranda Jarrett

SOMETHING WICKED, Jo Beverley (here's the stepback art)

CAPTIVES OF THE NIGHT, Loretta Chase

DANCING ON THE WIND, Mary Jo Putney (stepback art)

MAGIC MAN, Patricia Rice
(naked horse!)

STEALING SOPHIE, Sarah Gabriel

FOR THE LOVE OF A PIRATE, Edith Layton

Cheers to all the winners!  If you didn't win and you'd like to, please keep posting comments, because we love giving away books at whim to commenters -- and ya never know when the book-giveaway mood will strike again!

If your name is posted here, please contact Sherrie, our admin Whipster, at [email protected], to confirm and to give her your mailing address. Thank you!

Getting Naked With the Wenches, Part III

In which the Wenches digress from ladies in the bath to Lord Byron in canals of Venice, along with a few naked Frenchmen, English kings, and Greek kouroi for good measure....

SS: Loretta, you're the Byron expert here, and I know Lord B. liked to swim.  Have you any idea of what he was wearing while he explored the, ah, beaches around Greece?

LC: My instinct is to answer that Byron would of course swim naked, no matter where he was.  Swimming, he couldn't hide his deformed foot, so what would be the point of hiding anything else?  He really was more Georgian in his thinking than what we think of as Regency, and even for his time, he was pretty wild.  He was also very direct in his speech, noting, after the outraged reaction to Don Juan, "...the outcry has frightened me.-I had such projects for the Don--but the Cant is so much stronger than C--t [meaning the other monosyllable]--now a days..."   So I simply cannot imagine him swimming in anything but the altogether.

JO: We really do miscalculate the early 19th century in this respect, I think. In many ways it was still very Georgian, very bawdy and free-spirited, but changing rapidly, leading to conflicts. Byron is probably a prime example.

LC: I will see if I can find out exactly what Byron did or didn't wear--he swam Venice's Great Canal, too, BTW, in a race with somebody--but swimming attire is one of those taken-for-granted aspects of life men seldom bothered to mention in their letters & journals.  Today, OTOH, we women at least might mention a style of swimsuit we prefer, and which men, if any, should wear Speedos--but today it's taken for granted that one wears swimwear, except on a nude beach.

SS: My guess would be that he was especially proud of his swimming ability because, unlike running,his deformity wasn't a factor in the water.  Of course, he found plenty of other places where it wasn't an issue, either. *g*

My favorite King Charles was a famous (or notorious?) swimmer, often rising at five to go swimming in the Thames while his attendants shivered on the riverbank.  No mention of what he was wearing, though; would a king go skinny-dipping in the middle of London?

EL: King Charles ll would go skinny dipping anywhere he wanted to.

There's a reason he's just about my fav monarch.

LC: As to King Charles II--I am with Edith in thinking if anyone could be buck naked in the Thames, it would be the king--and he's my favorite, too.

SS: I think it's pretty safe to say that Charles certainly did.  Whenever his appearance is described by contemporaries, his great height (he was over six feet tall, towering over most of his 17th century subjects) and the proportionate size of the rest of him were great cause for wonder, and national pride as well.  When Lord Rochester wrote of the king "Nor are his high desires above his strength/His sceptre and his [you can fill in the word, oh, worldly Wench readers] are of a length", no one questioned the earl's statement.

And yes, Edith, he's my favorite king, too. *g*

JO: As I see it they had a completely different attitude to male nudity, which was part of the reason for keeping some areas/activities for men only. These romantic heroines who absolutely insist on invading such places probably got some surprises. Again, somewhere, I have a print of boys swimming in the Thames, all starkers, and I'm sure I've come across references to men swimming naked in rivers and such. There were no approved swimming clothes and why get something wet?

I have this French picture of swimmers, and I can't figure out what they're wearing as it's hardly standard underwear, but swim trunks? I do wonder if they were painted on later. Any votes?

I also have references to "open" bathing in Brighton (without a bathing hut), for both men and women, on different and widely separated beaches. It's not clear whether they bathed naked or in very light clothing (which when wet would be as good as) but it was considered indecent and outlawed in 1806. The following implies to me that he was naked.

One man did it anyway. From the Morning Herald, August 28th 1806. "The greatest novelty, however, that this part of the coast exhibited this morning was in a gentleman undressing himself on the beach for the purpose of a ducking, in front of the town, attended by his lady, who sans diffidence, supplied him with napkins, and even assisted him in wiping the humid effects of his exercise from his brawny limbs, as he returned from the water to dress." (Quoted in BRIGHTON IN THE OLDEN TIMES by John George Bishop, , 1892.) He was fined five pounds, quite a hefty sum then, which seems to have discouraged the practice, but not obliterated it. Also, on the men's beach, even using machines, it was often possible to see the bathers. (They didn't usually swim, merely take a "dipping." Which is why the gender segregated beaches were off limits, and also why telescopes were popular with the ladies as well as the gentleme -- especially before the bylaw!

LC I found a 1789 print of King George III sea bathing (the scene is Weymouth) in what seems to be the altogether (Note bathing machines in background.  Note his shaved head.

LC:  And here are women sea bathing at Brighton.

SK: There's the Rembrandt painting of Hendrijcke Stoffels, his common-law wife, going for a dip in a pool -- her clothes are slung on a rock behind her, and she's wading into the water with her shift hiked up. No skinny-dipping going on there. And naked in bed, or not -- there's another by the same artist showing a woman in bed -- she's wearing a shift, with shoulder and arm exposed. Rembrandt's a good source because he's often painting what he sees, even with posed models, so real life details are very reliable.

There's always lots of nakedness in art, natch -- and young ladies in the 19th c. would naturally see it, and be free to examine great works of art, despite the amount of anatomical correctness on display. Oooooooh let's go look at the Greek statues....  *g*

SS: Maybe during the Regency, but by high Victorian times, it's a different story.  The mid-19th century marks  the appearances of fig leaves and extra drapes added to museum statues.  Women artists were forbidden to sketch nudes, and banned from life drawing classes.  Art collections were definitely segregated, too, with certain exhibitions not open to the ladies.  Even in the much more open 18th century, the true connissieurs of classical art with a naked or erotic turn were all gentlemen and their collections very private, with no ladies allowed to the party.  Like these gentlemen in 1781 -- "Charles Towneley and His Friends" by Johann Zoffany, who are most properly dressed to study the naked classical stautes.

JO: Just as a counterpoint, I do have this photo of a very erotic statue from the Lady Lever Gallery. I think it's Victorian, but I'm not sure right off hand and I don't know where it was displayed. Lacking in anatomical detail, though. Who was it -- Ruskin? -- who was shocked to find his wife had pubic hair?

SS: Yeah, Ruskin.  Supposedly that was enough of a shock on his wedding night to make him swear off his new wife entirely.  One wonders what her reaction must have been to HIM.

SK: Egyptian wall paintings, Greek vases (anatomically correct), and of course lots of erotica in Greek and Roman art, no modesty gettin' in the way there. Though it's questionable whether some of the stronger stuff would be available to Regency heroines, for example. Earlier we talked about medieval bath scenes...in medieval art, couples were sometimes shown in sexual situations, though they're mostly demure images of lovers tucked snug in bed, though with a trace of raunchy now and then.

And there's the well-known February image from Tres Riches Heures -- a man and a woman warm themselves by the fire, revealing themselves as buck-naked under their clothing and not too worried about letting it all hang out, while the lady with them is much more demure, keeping her knees (and crotch) covered. So there's a class difference in attitudes of modesty recorded by the artist.

Nudity was prevalent in the Renaissance, of course -- just lots of respect for and curiosity about the body. In every era there are erotic and pornographic images produced (the Italians being real champs at this, and the French and even the English no slouches either), so it's almost impossible to make a blanket statement about they did, or they didn't, show nudity and nekkidness in art in this, that, era.

Mary Jo asked about pre-Raphaelites and so on -- the classical images and excuses prevail where nudity is concerned, and otherwise they're covering up where they can.

While we're talking nakedness, a word about the Scots (since I write Scottish most of the time) -- there's always the tired old joke, and natural curiosity, concerning what Scotsmen wear, or wore, under their kilts. Some of the time nothing at all, yes it's true. Some of the time, black or dark underwear (modern guys). Early on, since shirts were long and multi-purpose garments, shirttails were often wrapped fore and aft (diaper style--not very sexy but nonetheless the case) -- and tucked up to be held in place by the belted plaid.

As Susan Miranda pointed out in her Shirt Blog, there's a reason shirts were changed and laundered often. There's a clan battle well-known in Scottish history, Blar na Leine, traditionally known as Field of the Shirts-- the Highlanders on both sides stripped away their plaids and fought in their shirts, or completely naked on a hot July day in 1544. This shows the freedom that Scotsmen felt, even in the 16th c., to strip down and go at it like ancient Celtic warriors (who were known for fighting stark naked.

And Scottish women, who were often described as very modest but affectionate in greeting in every century, including the 19th, would very often be seen with bare feet -- even well-born ladies on occasion (such as the Duchess of Queensberry, but she mostly did whatever she wanted). ;)

Jo: One of the travelers to England in the early 19th century noted that children were nearly always barefoot. So many lovely details, some of which I deliberately ignore when writing because they would at least distact and maybe dismay the reader, who I want to be lost in my story.

SS: Most children in America were barefoot, too, esp. in summer, and well into the 20th century.  Shoes were expensive, and as every parent can testify, those little feet sure do grow fast! 

JO: It's true we can include more historical detail in a historical novel, but I'm really talking about the jarring detail. It might be true, but the reader is disrupted enough to be jerked out of the story. Of course, if we've created great trust, they'll absorb and read on, fascinated. We can hope.

LC: Re naked bathing:
Well, I've seen the ladies in the bathtubs, in their shifts, with the tubs draped with linens.  But there's more to bathing.

Early in Vic Gattrell's CITY OF LAUGHTER, there's a Gillray print of 1782, showing Lady Worsley bathing. This is not a bathtub but one of those step-down baths--like a swimming pool--usually found in outbuildings. She's holding a cloth in front of her nether regions, but she's otherwise naked--and her husband has hoisted another man onto his shoulders so the other guy can peek through a high window at Lady Worsley. The print is titled "Sir Richard Worse-than-Sly, Exposing his Wifes Bottom---O Fye!" This print was published during the Worsley divorce case.

JO: One of the quotes I found relates to that voyeur/bathing scandal. "It was proven, for example, that at the Bath in Maidstone, Worsley had raised Bissett upon his shoulders so that Bissett could view his naked wife bathing." (This is from TRIALS OF LOVE, the guidebook to a Valentine's Day exhibit at the Harvard Law Library. This has led to a database, but at a quick glance I don't see how to access it. Can anyone here figure it out? I'm pressed for time right now. Studies In Scarlet database) I can't find any more yet about a baths along the lines of the ones in Bath, at Maidstone. It's clear the event took place at a public baths, but some people did have those "Roman Baths" in their houses. They were quite the thing. I used that in Dragon's Bride.

LC: According to CITY OF LAUGHTER's Introduction (it deals with 18th century through Regency, mainly), "People do appear to have experienced their bodies differently then.  Both sexes dressed their bodies differently from us, and they thought about and had sex differently also (less nudity and orality and more standing up than today, it seems)."  The authors sees a change in attitude--increased taboos, prudery--in and after the 1820s, which I, too, feel was the case.  Regarding positions and how much clothing, here's a link to some Rowlandson erotica (BE WARNED:  These are explicit).

There's another naked lady in CITY OF LAUGHTER.  This print is from 1803, artist anonymous.  It's four panels.  "A Backside and Front View of a Modern Fine Lady...or the Swimming Venus of Ramsgate."  Again, it's not a lady in a bathtub.  But this is interesting, because I was under the impression that women wore bathing dresses in the sea.

Then we have NYMPHS BATHING, 1810, another anonymous artist--and a cruel one.  Ten naked women, all with less than nymph-like figures, again at the sea (or perhaps a lake).

SS:   Oh, this is such a FANTASTIC book, Loretta! (City of Laughter: Sex & Satire in Eighteenth-Century London by Vic Gatrell) Anyone who's interested in this time period should really get thee posthaste to a copy of their own.  The scores of illustrations and images are often shown for the first time, and in beautiful, lavish color.  And where else will you find examples of the bawdy jokes printed in late 18th century ladies's magazines? Highly readable, and highly reccommended. 

City of Laughter

JO: There's more in Trials of Love that relevant here.

From the trial of Georgina Ann Fawkener for adultery with the Rt Hon. John, Lord Townsend c 1791 "Though he had not witnessed any act of adultery, Pezzy (a servant) deposed that he believed the two to have 'slept naked and alone in the one and the same bed together…'"

Viscountess Elmore for adultery with the Earl of Ancram, c 1793
These lovers went off together to Calais, so I don't suppose the details were in much doubt, but their cook there deposed that "the whole of the said time slept in one and the same bed together naked and alone."

There's a formula to this "naked and alone" that suggests that sleeping together wasn't complete proof, especially if others were there, too. That makes sense, given that travelers often did that if beds were scarce. (Something else not exploited in romances as best I know.) So, sharing a bed wouldn't clinch it if they had clothing on or others were present. They might consider underwear "naked", but I don't think so.

LC:  Given the OED definitions, I'm guessing that some of the couples were nude and some were not.  We really can't be positive what they meant by naked--or even nude, considering that so many equated Grecian costume with nudity. Still, even sleeping together wearing only an undergarment would be incriminating.  At this point, my feeling is--as with so much else--one cannot make a pronouncement, beyond "Some did and some didn't sometimes and sometimes not."  And so we needn't clothe our heroines for a bath, and it's OK for H/H to get naked together.

SS: One more illustration from 1822 -- "Making Decent" by George Cruikshank -- from CITY OF LAUGHTER to demonstrate the coming prudishness of the Victorian age.  A tiny crusading Mr. Wilberforce tries to hide the genitals of the giant nude statue of Achilles in Hyde Park with his hat.  The caption reads: "A hint to the Society for the Suppression of Vice...This print commemorative of Anglo French brass and true British chastity, is inscribed with veneration to that worthy man Mr. Willbyforce who with saintlike regard for the morals of his country has undertaken to make the above figure decent from 10 in the mg. till dusk." 

Yes, the cartoon's in jest, but it sure looks like the bawdy ol' times of the Regency and earlier are coming to an end....

SK: A very good example would be the Elgin marbles, which I think were in  place in the British Museum in 1816, certainly known in engravings before that date. The heroic nude males of the pediments and metopes would be highly instructive sights for Regency ladies, and it would be sooooo very proper to appreciate them...and worthy of not only viewing, but sketching, too, enabling the ladies to study them freely in detail. Kouroi figures in museum collections would also be excellent examples of male nudity, and likely to raise female curiosity. One of the hallmarks of the Kouroi is that they are young men, where a good number of the Elgin dudes are more mature men.

The Elgin Marbles were a very big deal at the time they were put in place, with crowds lining up to see these things, stolen out of Greece with nary a flicker of conscience. *g* Nor were they the only examples of nude sculpture. It would be nearly impossible for ladies to avoid seeing male nudity in art, as Jo points out, with grand house collections of fine art. Library collections would have them too, since engravings in books were a major way to view great art. Greek, Roman, Renaissance, Baroque, there were nude boys and men all along the way, as we've all pointed out in our blogs.

Engravings of the Sistine, of the Florence David, of Bernini and Donatello, etc., would be very instructive, but wow, there's nothing like that 3D sculpture experience. There had to be a good proportion of young ladies in the Brit Mus crowds, perhaps told to look away by their guardians and escorts--and of course many young ladies might have peeked. Sketching art was popular and approved, too, wasn't it?

The Romans could sometimes be prudish, adding fig leaves and strategic drapery to copies of Greek originals, and there was plenty of Roman art about in Europe and Britain by the 19th century. But in genuine ancient Greek art, the Greeks went for the whole enchilada without qualm. With more Greek art finding its way into Britain--ahh, very nice education! (btw, one way to ID a Roman copy of a Greek original -- look for the tree trunk growing out of the leg; when copying, Roman engineer-brains didn't always trust the physics of the pieces, although the Greek sculptures, especially peak Hellenistic pieces, might have been standing without props, beautifully balanced, for centuries). Anyway, all very illuminating for proper young heroines!

JO: That's the sort of "exposure" I meant for our Regency ladies. So very educational! Come to think of it, even in my younger days such works of arts were much appreciated.*G*

PR: And so comes an end to the Wenches' First Naked Anniversary!  I hope all of you have enjoyed the illuminating repartee in our exclusive salon.  We have certainly enjoyed the company and hope you will continue to return to add to the general merriment.  Have a wonderful weekend, one and all!

Getting Naked With the Wenches, Part II

Still inspired by Kay's question about whether or not 19th century ladies (and their earlier sisters) got naked for bathing, the Wenches continue:

SS: While the current crop of misbehaving Hollywood actresses seem to believe they invented the art of revealing too much, nude pictures of celebrity women are hardly new.  There's a 1570 portrait by Clouet of Diane de Poitiers, the favorite of the French King Henry II, that shows her quite unabashedly naked (and in a draped tub, too.) 

My historical novels are set in 17th century England, during the reign of Charles II.  For the first time women were allowed on the English stage, and those actresses were also quick to exploit their celebrity by having themselves painted with bared breasts, or even entirely nude -- something no respectable lady would dream of doing.  Even among the royal mistresses, there was a hierarchy of how much was revealed.  If you'd moved from the stage to the palace (like Nell Gwyn or Moll Davis), then you could pretty much display all your wares in your portraits.  But if you were a lady by birth (like the Countess of Castlemaine, my heroine in Royal Harlot, shown over there on the right as some sort of quasi-goddess), you were painted fully covered, but without any undergarments beneath that thin layer of silk and with breasts threatening to tumble out, so that very little was left to the imagination.

Here's a painting by Sir Peter Lely of Nell Gwyn as Venus. She was an actress, and common-born mistress to Charles II, which gave her two excuses to be shown nude. Not only did the king hang this painting in his dressing chamber where the queen unhappily saw it, but Nell invited a small crowd of male friends to drop in to the artist's studio while she was posing. A popular girl, Nell.  I can think of other royal mistresses painted in various degrees of undress as well as ladies coyly playing at being goddesses in revealing drapery, but I can't think of any men, gentlemen or rogues, who had their portraits done sans clothes.  Can anyone else?

MJP: Not that I can think of.  But in that era, men were pretty much power and money objects, not sex objects.  Portraits would show their wealth, not their probably flabby abs.

JO:I'm pretty sure I've seen a couple of portraits done in classical robes, probably late 18th century, but I can't find any now. Anyone know any?

SS:  I did think of a prominent male who liked being naked, and he sure wasn't a royal mistress.  Supposedly American founding father Benjamin Franklin was a great believer in "air baths": each morning upon rising, he would remove all his clothes and sit in the middle of his bedchamber for an hour with as much fresh air as he could tolerate, depending on the season.  No visual on that, please! *g*

Jo: Definitely not. There are plenty of almost naked Renaissance men, of course, especially representing gods. Venus and Adonis? This one is by Goltzius, 1614. Not quite naked, but the sort of thing an upper class lady could see on the walls of her family's home. 

But real people, ever noticed how few young hunks had their portraits painted? When they were older, they weren't about to expose their wrinkly flesh and flab, were they?

I have a late 18th century, I think, French print of swimmers where the men are wearing shorts that look painted on over nakedness. Actually, I have references to men bathing naked in Brighton, which is why the male beach was off limits, and also why telescopes were popular with the ladies. I think they stopped it by the Regency period, but at least one man did it anyway in protest.

As I understand it, men generally swam naked.

SS: Here's one of the more famous 19th century paintings of naked guys swiming, by Thomas Eakins.  They were Americans, but I imagine there's not much national difference. *g*

PR: My thoughts exactly. It's not as if historically men watched their waists, and outside of the few young bucks at Gentleman Jackson's, there wasn't much in the way of gyms. So that big shirt hid a multitude of sins but could quickly drown an inexperienced swimmer.

Despite culture, people are people. If it was hot, I assume they'd strip down in privacy unless they wanted to hide their flaws from their partners or---mostly in the case of women, I suspect, but not entirely---unless they were excessively modest.  It's not nakedness but modesty and how one feels about one's body that predicts the cultural norm.  If one is surrounded by servants, a modest tent of cloth of some type might be required by an upper class woman, an older woman, or one raised to be modest about her body. A woman in the habit of following sheep into the river to shear them is not likely to be as modest as a woman who has never allowed anyone to see her in anything less than silk or lace.

And just think about male hang ups!  Ones that think they're excessively well-endowed are probably much more likely to jump naked into the river on a hot summer day and encourage others to do the same. But that "hot summer day" bit precludes most of England, most of the time, so the temptation simply wouldn't be there often.

Personally, considering how many times a day the upper classes changed clothes, I'd think they'd get excessively tired of it after a while. And if bathing wasn't a convenient option, why bother stripping? I think we'd have to investigate sexual attitudes, preferences, and knowledge in historical periods just to see if they even bothered with much foreplay.  Really, we've been applying our own modern concept of sex to our historicals, but the truth is probably far cruder in normal cases outside the Don Juan types.

SS: Ah, I did think of another! There's a larger-than-lifesize statue of George Washington by Horatio Greenough in the Smithsonian that shows the first president bare-chested and classically heroic (if more than a little silly.)

Jo: That need to put great men in a classical context could lead to peculiarities, couldn't it? *G* I think that having servants would take some of the edge off a fixation on modesty per se. I mean, would a woman really go behind a screen rather than change her shift in front of one or two maids? Very few, I'd guess.

And as well as paintings, they were surrounded by all those classical statues. I used that element in my first book, Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed, where Jane had been raised quietly and modestly in a strictly Christian home. Her first look at a classical statue was quite a shock.

This all depends on the period, of course. We've always got to be very careful not to impose Victorianisms onto the Regency. We have so much more primary material from that era. It did take a very weird turn.

Much of the Regency was closer to the Georgian than the Victorian, especially in the upper class.

LC:  I do agree with this.  I think there's confusion with the Victorian period because our doyenne of the Regency was Georgette Heyer, writing from the late Victorian/Edwardian POV.

SS: You're totally right, Loretta. Modern readers often forget that Heyer is writing about the past from her time period, and her pov is inevitably filtered through it -- the curse of every writer writing about a time other than her own. Jane Austen, writing during and about her own time, is far less squeamish.

MJP: As for nakedish males in paintings--SK, can you think of any? Maybe among the Pre-Raphaelites?  As an example of the opposite, I'm thinking of a well known late-19th century painting (I think) that shows a mixed group picnicking by a pond, and the men are in full Edwardian gear and the women are naked, IIRC.  Most men--and most male painters--like looking at and painting nekkidy females.

SS: I'm not sure if this was meant to be an art history exam-question or not, but I'll bite.  The painting you mean must be "Dejeuner sur l'herbe" by Manet, and in fact it did cause a huge scandal when it was first shown.  One of the men was Manet's brother, another artist, and the  woman was Manet's favorite model, so as I recall this was supposed to be a picnic-break in the middle of painting.  So at least she has a reason for being naked -- though of course there are few careers further beyond the respectable pale than being an artist's model.

MJP: Ah, that's the one!  Thank you.  I figured one of the art historians would know it.  But I'm not buying that she had a reason to be naked other than the fact that's what the artist wanted.

SS: Nor do I.  The artists are male and the patrons are male, so of course there are going to be many more naked women than naked men.  ::sigh::

MJP: Hmm, interesting. I went to Google to see a larger image of the painting, and I see that the woman in the background is in a shift, albeit more or less transparent.  Perhaps that supports the theory that even when swimming or bathing, women were usually covered. Looking at the picture, I can't help thinking that, depending on the weather, either the women are going to be cold or the men are going to feel hot with all those clothes on....

SS: OK, Regency-writers, I'll ask your opinion on a notorious naked vs. clothed question. What about the Regency women who supposedly dowsed their muslin gowns with water to make them transparent to the point of nudity?  True, or only historical gossip?

JO: Exaggeration, at least. Like many fashion extremes, one person does it, and later people think everyone did. We only have to look at fashion magazines today to see that it's not exactly representing normal dress.

LC:  From ENGLISHWOMEN’S CLOTHING IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY “When the first engravings of the Grecian costume--as nudity was called--were brought to England, they shocked every modest woman; and it was not thought proper to look at them in the presence of gentlemen.”  They do not identify the quotation source, saying only that it was written retrospectively in 1818.

The Cunningtons do make the point elsewhere that some hysterical references to shocking fashions are not reliable--shocked people can exaggerate--and I do suspect the damped muslins is an urban myth, though maybe one or two "fast women" or harlots did it.  Also, they and other costume experts point out that the Grecian or “classical” style of clothing (that we consider Regency style) certainly did look like nudity compared to the dress of previous decades.  Here’s an illustrative print.

PR: The wenches will get down and dirty--or squeaky clean--on Friday, the final part of our naked dialogue.  But I can't resist Loretta's comment above--shocked people can exaggerate. Boy, can they ever! They say "damn" in GWTW! They write sex scenes in romances! What other "shocking" references can you think of?

Happy One Year Anniversary!

Congratulations to all the Wenches for reaching the one-year mark on our WordWenches blog!

A big thank-you to the Wenches for being such wonderful friends and such a great, creative group to work with, and thanks to Sherrie the Whipster for getting us through this, and Eileen for designing our website and newsletter. And special thanks to all our readers for helping make our blog a great place to visit. Your comments are always appreciated and welcomed, so keep 'em coming, and visit often! 

~Susan Sarah

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!

Pat Rice here:
Ha, thought I'd be the one to use the giggly cartoon graphics, didn't you! You're right, but I thought after all that erudite musing yesterday, it would be appropriate to include the Muses in our celebration.

Now I get to be giggly.... 
And dance a jig.

Here's to an entire year of great blogs, old friends, and new!  Happy anniversary everyone, and thanks for being here!

Why don't you let us know what your favorite blogs have been?

Getting Naked With the Wenches, Part I

Jo here, but It's our anniversary, so we're heading into a special week. Yes, it's been a full year of heroic journey, goal, motivation and conflict, learning and growing. All that good stuff in fiction, some of which we'd rather avoid in real life.*G* But we've survived and enjoyed, and we hope the readers here have, too. If there was a highlight of the year, let us know in a comment below. If you're a lurker who never posts, uncloak and speak. There will be prizes!

We Wenches thought we'd do a combined blog for this event, and run it all week, and we've settled on the subject of nakedness in the past -- the fiction and the non-fiction -- sparked by a reader question. I hope you enjoy the following and please, share your comments and insights, including on the crucial question -- in fiction, do you prefer accuracy on this point, or behavior more in sync with modern ways?

It really wouldn't be right to expose a naked Cabbage Patch Kid on the internet, so I offer this 16th century print of men in a public bath.

In the responses to Susan/Miranda's recent blog, The Shirt Off His Back, Kay asked an excellent question: "I have a question though. All those clothes made me think of the smell, which made me think of bathing, which made me think of two movies: Valmont and Vanity Fair. In those movies they showed women bathing in a tub with some kind of cloth draped over the tub and with a shirt/blouse/chemise worn. Does anyone know what that was all about? Was that Hollywood or was it real?"

SS: Anyone wish to answer?  To be honest, I haven't a clue if Regency ladies bathed beneath sheets in their shifts....

MJ: SS, the question from the reader was interesting.  Given the vast variety of history, there were probably women who bathed covered up.  Though I wouldn't have expected them to be French. <G>

MJP, who has absolutely no actual knowledge on this subject--but covering up does sound plausible

SS:  While looking for images as illustrations, I stumbled across this magnificent Regency "bamboo bath room" from a grand house in Wales, from the book Regency Style by Steven Parissien. Note the caption, "This early nineteenth-century bath and its integral shower had its own coal-fired hot water supply." Pretty neat, no matter what one was wearing in the water!

LC:  This is well worth a blog.  Women did wear a shift in the bath.  I'm conscious of historical inaccuracy when I bathe my heroines naked, and one of these days I'll probably drape the bath with linens and put them in a shift, but it is just so weird--and did they wash over the shift or under it?  I don't know the details--or forgot them if I knew them.

JO: I have had people bathe in tubs lined with cloths. It sounds decadently comfortable to me, but also practical in protecting people from rough or cold surfaces. I have no sources on what people wore, but it doesn't make much sense to me that they bathed in a shift. Not saying they didn't, but why, in the privacy of their home? Now when using a public bath or a part of the house that was less private, then yes. Before the mid 18th century very few houses had corridors around bedrooms, so people could be wandering through.

MJ: I'm sure that both were done.  History isn't homogeneous, after all!

LC:  The question is, what exactly is meant by “naked”?  I vaguely remembered reading the word in reference to someone who was wearing only underclothes.  So I hied me to the Oxford English Dictionary, and here’s what I found:

A. adj. I. 1.  Unclothed, having no clothing upon the body, stripped to the skin, nude.  Also, occas., having only an under-garment on.
Here’s a relevant citation, dated 1761:  “The streets were...filled with naked people, some with shirts and shifts on only, and numbers without either.”

Also, apparently, getting naked for sex was not a big thing, either, for men or women.  But this may apply mainly to adulterous sex--given the complications of getting dressed and undressed, it makes plenty of sense.

And so I turn to THE FORBIDDEN EROTICA OF THOMAS ROWLANDSON and flip through  the pages.  Lots of people having sex in various positions.   Several  orgies.  The majority of times, the people are wearing clothing, though  (primarily in the case of women) not much of it (shifts or dresses open to  show breasts and privates, stockings and garters).  The exceptions are  drawings imitating old masters, and scenes portraying figures from other cultures, e.g., ancient Greeks or Arabian harems.  One naked man in a wooden tub but no women in tubs.  Ah, and near the end I come upon one curious picture of a couple having sex on a strange cushioned chair with two  wheels, with this note: “What sets this conception off from the rest of  Rowlandson’s work, with only occasional exceptions, is the total nudity of  the fitures.  For the academically trained artist, even in bawdy  illustrations, apparently total nudity demanded to be set in a context that  made definite allusions to classical antiquity.”  Later, “when Rowlandson  does draw with contemporary immediacy the figures in erotic poses are almost  invariably clothed or partly clothed.”
To get an idea of what his erotic art is like, (Warning: it's explicit), check out these prints on Wikipedia.

SS:  My guess is that most people in our favorite historical past had sex partially clothed because the clothes were too complicated to remove entirely, but still obliging because of their lack of undergarments.  Also before central heating, even a palace was cold.  In addition, there's  that whole emphasis on civility, that Man (esp. Gentle Man) is better than the low Beasts, and being naked is reducing things to an unsettling equality.

I went to a standard primary source/famous dirty book of the mid-18th century -- "Fanny Hill" by John Cleland-- and granted that that was dealing with professional sex rather than romantic, it seems that it's about fifty-fifty whether the lovers fully disrobe or not.  Then, too, blushing Fanny refers to being "naked to my shift", and feeling that being seen thus is the same as being out-and-out naked.  Another factor seems to be age: the young and beautiful strip down at will, but the older folks just flip up petticoats and unbutton breeches.

Two hundred years earlier (and in Italy), the people in Aretino's "Dialogues" are so overcome with lust that they don't bother to undress.  Yet in the accompanying in illustrations, everyone's always naked.  Maybe, like in the creaky "Joy of Sex" from the 1970s, the better to show the famous postures?

JO: Or not. I have some testimony from adultery trials about that. I'll post it later. Even primary sources can be so very confusing.

LC: It does seem to fit in with some other things, though.  For instance, that doctors would examine women patients by talking to them, and did not necessarily touch them.  No physician ever actually felt the gigantic lump in Fanny Burney's breast.  They apparently took her word for it, then did the mastectomy.

JO: That's the great advantage of a good midwife. She'd poke and pry as much as she needed to.

      MJ:  I think it was Lord Chesterfield that gave his (illegitimate) son some night shirts with a neat little hole in the middle to be used only for copulation.  (Can't remember the wording, but that was the general idea.)   
     mjp, thinking this will make a very cool blog by whoever is brave enough to take it on--and that does NOT include her!

JO: LOL! That nightshirt would make a good scene in a book, but I don't think I'm going to take THAT on!

SK: There are plenty of instances of covered baths in medieval woodcut illustrations -- look up images of Bathsheba, for instance, which often has bathing scenes, and you'll probably find a woman wearing a turban and often some kind of light covering in the tub, either something draped over her, or a tent over all, which probably created a sauna effect. Wooden baths were draped in sheets before the water was added for comfort and to help slow inevitable leaks.

JO: I suspect the cloths in this case are to avoid the roughness and even splinters from the wood. These baths look to be made like barrels, and they certainly knew how to seal a barrel. Good thought on a kind of sauna. The tents would also provide some privacy and a shield from draughts -- always a hazard in England. Which reminds me, though slightly off topic here, that I have a quote from Mrs. Thrale (friend of Dr. Johnson) about sea bathing in Brighton in the late 18th century. She and her daughters went to be dipped in the sea pre-dawn in NOVEMBER! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! "Cold but pleasant," she describes it. Then they returned home to set out for London, a whole day's journey. They really were tough in those days.

SK: Bathsheba is often shown nude -- the subject provided an excuse for a little voyeuristic fun, the medieval equivalent to a girlie mag. *g*

In the recent Marie Antoinette movie, there are a couple of scenes where Marie (Kirsten Dunst) is bathing, and she's wearing very fancy translucent shifts while having a good long soak. And women were examined by their doctors under sheets, the doc groping around blindly even during births, so the whole bathing with a cover-up makes sense. Poor Fanny Burney!

But like the knitted sleeping caps that men often wore, this stuff does not get mentioned in even the most accurate of historical romances. And with good reason!  ;)

JO: After we'd hashed over this I did a little research and I think it makes some interesting general points. The following is from Volume II of THE HISTORY OF PRIVATE LIFE, Revelations of the Medieval World, Ed by George Duby.

"Medieval literature has much to say about exposure of the body to oneself and others, as well as about the function of clothing (were clothes worn for protection, modesty, or embellishment?) and the perception of nudity. The fact that clothing was worn reveals exhibitionistic impulses and latent feelings of shame. Literature shows us the embarrassment that people felt when stripped naked, as well as their implicit or explicit rejection by others; yet nakedness could also be an occasion for jubilation, at least for men, in whose self image the nude body played an important part."

The following is my precis on what follows: Nakedness is equated with loss of civilization, either by punishment or injury/derangement. In literature, people who encounter a naked man will assume him wicked or deranged. Such men are normally portrayed as hairy and thus beastlike. But communal male nakedness was often part of rites of sociability and social cohesiveness, especially in a bath. (See above.) In contrast to modern ideals of manly duty, in one story, the damsel thinks "if he were bathed and steamed, his skin would be white and soft." How would that go over in modern historical fiction?

This communal bathing as manly ritual could be seen as similar to modern team locker rooms and the fuss about whether women reporters should be allowed in. Old ideas die hard, but perhaps if that's okay it should be okay in reverse? Is it? I don't know. One thing that's struck me over this discussion is the persistent gender differences. Female nudity has generally been acceptable when total male nudity isn't, and that's still the case today, isn't it? It's not that I'm wanting to see naked men all over the place, but I do wonder if allowing men to conceal their privacy, we're letting them have an unequal advantage. Comments?

Back to medieval literature. Nakedness of women in medieval fiction is usually at the command of a lord or king, either in relation to the selection of a bride or punishment. It is shameful if not private, and always linked to sexual desire.

There'll be more on Wednesday, but get commenting now.

Let's Get Naked!

The Wenches bare it all.  (That's bare, not bear!) 

Our one-year anniversary is May 22, and we have declared the next 7 days "Anniversary Week."  We're going to be blogging all week about historical nakedness--in fiction and in art--and we invite you to join in the fun.  Commenters will be eligible to win books.  We've spent a lot of time behind the scenes preparing our series of posts about nakedness (including pictures).  So break out the champagne and confetti and put on your party hats!  Let the fun begin!

And while all that partying is going on, the Wenches will be gadding about making guest appearances all over the Internet:

5/15-31 - Loretta: guest at Eloisa James's Book Club.

5/16-31 - Jo and Mary Jo: guests at Cherry Forums Book Club.

5/22 - Mary Jo: guest at Romance Vagabonds.

5/23 - Loretta: guest at Fog City Divas.

5/30 - Mary Jo interviews Jo in connection with the release of Jo's LADY BEWARE

5/28-6/10 - Mary Jo: guest author at Romantic Times "Ask the Author"

6/2 - Loretta: Booksigning at Connecticut Romance Writers conference.

6/5 - Loretta, Jo, and Mary Jo:  guests at Coffee Time Chat.

6/19 - Loretta: guest at Romance Readers at Heart.

6/26 -Pat and Susan/Miranda:  guests at Coffee Time Chat.

That's all for now, folks.  Stay tuned for more announcements, more contests, more guests.  The wait will be worth it!

An Interview with Wench Loretta Chase: Part 2

From Susan/Miranda (and the assistance of one of Loretta's Barbies):

As promised, I'm concluding my interview with Wench Loretta Chase today. (If you missed Part One, here's the link: Interview with Loretta: Part One ) Read on for the truth about the hero in LORD OF SCOUNDRELS, whether Albania really is a romantic setting, and a few tantalizing hints about what Loretta has in store for her next book.  Look for Loretta's absolutely amazing new book, Not Quite a Lady, in stores now, and be sure to post a comment or question below -- she'll be choosing a reader at random to win a signed copy of NOT QUITE A LADY.  Wonder if you missed any of Loretta's fantastic books?  Check out the booklist on her website, complete with excerpts: Loretta's Booklist

5.   While most historical romances today are set in Regency England, you’ve wandered much farther afield, placing your books in non-traditional locations like Egypt, Albania, and Italy.   What about these more exotic settings appeals to you?   What are the challenges and rewards of stepping so far outside the genre’s box?

The main reason for trying something different is to keep my readers--and me--from getting bored.  Even when I set a story in England, it’s important to find an angle that’s new to me, so I can bring that freshness to the writing.  Too, the characters have to be the right ones for the setting.  Charlotte’s story is about family, on several levels, so the intensely domestic country setting--away from the glamour and the masquerade that is London Society--was crucial, I thought.  OTOH, setting a story in Egypt--as is the case with MR. IMPOSSIBLE--called for a man who loved danger, because Egypt at this time was extremely dangerous.  So the exotic settings allow me not only to research new places but also to create different kinds of characters and character dynamics.  And it gives me a chance to learn all kinds of interesting trivia.

6.   You’ve written some of the BEST heroes ever to grace historical romance: the perfect mix of intelligence, wit, action, dashing charm, and very real masculine pig-headedness.   While each one is memorable in a different way, there is definitely a Loretta Chase hero.   Are there any real-life men that have influenced you?   What qualities to you regard as essential for a good hero?   What do you try to avoid?

Oh, thank you!  My husband has been most instructive about men.  His insights are vital because I grew up with sisters, so I had no clue about the male brain for many years.  I actually thought they thought the same way women did!

My big challenge is to try to think like a man without going over completely to the Dark Side and losing my readers.  Because the hero is, after all, a kind of ideal male figure.  Very masculine, and yet able to connect on some essential--and not simply sexual--level, with women.  Some qualities simply need to be there or I can’t love him:  a sense of humor, kindness (even if it’s buried deep down), courage (and that includes psychological courage).  He doesn’t have to be a mental giant but he does need to be quick-witted.  I suppose the main thing is, he has to be totally worthy of the heroine.  Oh, and he needs to be tall.

7.   LORD OF SCOUNDRELS is cited by many readers (including me) as one of the top historical romances of all time.   Writers aren’t supposed to have favorite books any more than mothers have favorite children, but I’ll ask anyway: Do you have a favorite among your books?   Why?

I love LORD OF SCOUNDRELS.  I’m not sure I’ve ever had more fun, start to finish, writing a book, and I’m very proud of its continuing popularity.  But I’m a Gemini, and Change and New are bywords.  My favorite book is either the book I’ve just finished--because it’s finished!  Yay!--or the one I’m working on, because it’s all new, and I’m discovering things every day. 

8.   You’ve often said how much you enjoy the books of Charles Dickens, and in fact the orphaned boy in NOT QUITE A LADY is named Pip, the hero of Dickens’ GREAT EXPECTATIONS.   Do you regard Dickens as an influence on your writing?  How?   What other writers have influenced you?

There are lots of influences, a host of 18th & 19th C British authors, poets, and playwrights.  Some of these books, like MIDDLEMARCH, have provided the spark for certain of my stories.  But Dickens is the strongest influence, absolutely, because of the way he used language.  I know that many people find him too wordy but I love his words, whether it’s dialogue or narrative.  His words make everything in the story come alive, not simply people but the environment, furniture, utensils.  Everything seems to have a personality.  In some ways, it’s like seeing a world through a child’s eyes, and I often feel, reading him, that I’m watching a great animated film.  I do believe there’s a lot of Dickens in Disney, for instance. 

9.   Lord Byron and early 19th century Venice have popped up several times in your recent WordWenches blogs.   Are these tantalizing clues for us about your next book?   Could you tell us more?

Sometimes I see a setting before I see the characters, and in this case, I saw Venice.   I knew Byron had lived there for a time, so I hunted up the relevant volumes of his Letters and Journals, and immediately found all kinds of wonderful stuff--the stuff of which novels can be made by the nerdy.  I think he must have been one of the horniest men who ever lived.  Where he found time to write all those long poems is beyond me.  Apparently, sex inspired him--and in Continental Europe, it turns out, sex was more readily available, because morals there were quite different from English morals and the double standard was less...double.

Beyond the fascinating research, I find it hard to talk about a book in progress. I have ideas of where it will go but things always change in the course of writing.  So for now I’ll just say it’s amazing what can go on in an early 19th C gondola.

Many, many thanks, Loretta -- both for this interview, and for the pleasure your books have brought. *G* 
Readers, now it's your turn to ask Loretta a question or two.  She'll be choosing a winner for a signed book next week from the names of everyone who posts, so don't be shy....

A Tax by Any Other Name...

Pat Rice checking in:

Yesterday was a tumultuous day both inside and out. Have you ever had days like that? It's as if the thunderstorms blew through the house, and it's all I can do to keep papers from flying away. Computers shut down, phone calls mount up, and frantic e-mails pass back and forth, and before I knew it, the day was over. Fortunately for me, I already had my blog sketched out, and it's based on a humorous column so I can smile as I polish.

As some of you know, I’m an accountant as well as a writer, so I’m painfully aware of how numbers can be manipulated to prove all manner of argument, even if close scrutiny will reveal that both argument and numbers are specious.  Still, I'm capable of finding taxes humorous, and I thoroughly enjoyed this article on the transfat tax  from www.funnytimes.com.

The writer argues that instead of outlawing things that are bad for us, why not tax them, which makes total sense to me.  We already tax cigarettes and alcohol and gas.  Why not charge taxes on transfat if society has to pay for your ills?  If marijuana is our biggest cash crop, as the author claims, just think of all the mental hospitals we could build by taxing it! 

But when he got down to taxing McMansions and Maseratis, he hit my history nerd nerve.  Taxing conspicuous consumption has been done.  The original taxes had absolutely nothing to do with taxing things that are bad for us and everything to do with taxing the rich, but if it works both ways…

So naturally, I had to dig out my tax research. The  window tax 
was the first attack on McMansions, seventeenth century style.  England passed a law in 1697 assessing a tax on buildings according to the number of windows and openings it had.  Any building with more than six windows got hit with a tax bill.  In its first year, the tax raised 1,200,000 pounds!  Just think of those castles and all their openings!  Heck, I wonder if an arrow slit counted?  Did the English quit building McMansions? Of course not. They just quit putting windows in them.  Or bricked up the old ones. Did the government quit taxing them? Of course not. They had so much fun that they increased the tax six times between 1747 and 1808 and never entirely got rid of it until 1851.  And the money was so lovely that France has a similar tax to this day.

Which teaches one to be very wary of suggesting taxes to governments!  Want to pay for a war? Peter the Great came up with a charming method of taxing  SOULS  to pay for his military might. Apparently, only males had souls, and then, only if they weren’t part of the nobility and the clergy (what a broad-minded thinker was old Peter-- the rich don’t have souls!), and you couldn’t prove you were soul-less (or even spineless) by leaving town, because then they taxed the town for your useless soul.  Better yet, if you were one of those old-fashioned types who didn’t accept Pete's modern church beliefs, you got taxed double!  Not certain if Old Pete meant nature-worshippers had twice the soul, but I’m sure they were twice as much trouble as orthodox believers.

And Peter was such an imaginative man, he even taxed beards. Taxing conspicuous hair growth instead of consumption must have made it easy for the tax collectors! Guess he figured all those peasants were saving money by not going to a barber and ought to pay to support the haircut industry, although I’m pretty certain he put the tax to work by paying barbers to be soldiers.

Oh, and back to taxes on things that are bad for you—in 1795, William the Pitt the Younger, not a dull or stupid man by any means, decided to tax wig and hair powder to pay for all those soldiers he had to keep buying. Maybe he thought all those good-looking young redcoats in their fancy wigs would be better off without them, because that’s more or less what happened. Rather than pay the tax, men whacked off their queues, thus ushering in the Regency era style of shorn locks and no powder. Of course, he also put a lot of wigmakers out of business…

And just to give you a little peek at the nakedy discussion going on behind the scenes in preparation for our anniversary blog next week, check out this amusing version of how Lady Godiva  talked her husband out of charging outrageous taxes by pulling off her outrageous stunt.  It makes a good tale, if nothing else.

All right, fire up your imaginations. What taxes would you charge to pay for our sins? Do you know of any modern taxes on sins?  (I do, but I’m biting my tongue.) 

The Truth About Corsets!

by Mary Jo, and more particularly, Nina Paules

Regular Word Wench visitor Nina Paules is writing a Regency historical so she decided to experience Regency costume first-hand.  I found Nina’s comments on her experience so interesting that I asked if I could stitch some of the highlights together in a “you are there” blog.  So, turning the pixels over to Nina:

NINA PAULES:  It all started with one innocent question.  “How far down the hip does a Regency corset extend,” I inquired of Kalen Hughes, during her November online class on HOW REGENCY CLOTHES WORK, (http://kalenhughes.com/) and where does all the extra (in my case fat) go when one sits down?"  I just had to know. 

Four months later, with the help of Kalen’s excellent suggestions and my Mamá’s ingenuity, I stood for the last fitting of my very own Regency corset.  Scandalously striped in ivory, gold and blue, it was the most beautiful undergarment I had ever owned.  It did magnificent things to my silhouette, lifting my DD’s to heights never before seen, even in my youth. 

And, oh! my posture—sitting straight required less effort thanks to the thick busk running from breast to about 2 inches below the navel and standing tall with shoulders back was all that I could do.  And while bending at the waist was now a foreign concept as was raising the shoulder above its normal set, limited movement was a small price to pay for the exquisite beauty of my décolletage.

Now, lest you think me crazy, which would not be wholly inaccurate, or find me self possessed, I had a very good reason for doing this mad thing, my dear fellow wenchlings.  Research!  I did it all in the name of research.  If I was to convincingly transplant a 21st century heroine into 19th century England, I needed to know, (and so did she) how it felt to wear a corset.  But, before I could don my stays and play the buxom Regency hoyden to my hero, I received an email from Mary Jo.  A Ladies’ Regency Weekend was being held in Riverdale, Maryland.  I just had to go.

More advice from Kalen, countless trips to fabric stores, twice as many fittings and three waves from my Mamá’s magic wand, made me the proud owner of a white eyelet, full-length petticoat, a deep purple walking dress with matching bonnet and reticule, a simple yet elegant day dress and a burgundy-red silk ball gown with matching shoes and gloves that was sure to turn any royal duchess green with envy. 

I was stunned by how much yardage it took to make these delightful confections.  When wearing my day dress, I am encased in four different layers (shift, corset, petticoat, dress), totaling about 15 yards of fabric and at my back are 8 hooks and four different gathering laces safely securing everything in place.  Experiencing the putting on and taking off of so many layers along with the hooking of the hooks and tying of the strings, put me to wondering just how do our heroes manage to avoid entangling themselves while attempting to free their heroines’ from those bothersome frocks.  But, I suppose that is what makes them heroes, eh? (Nina in the walking dress at right.)

Oh, by the by, did I mention that not one garment, save the shift, am I able to put on or take off by myself.  Hmm.

Swathed in my purple walking frock, I arrived, quite alone, at Riversdale in the late afternoon of April 20.  The mansion was completed in 1807 and was originally the home of George and Rosalie Calvert.  ( http://www.riversdale.org/ ) The 90 minute car ride had left me feeling rather breathless and confined.  Sitting with one’s bum lower than the thighs (as in a bucket seat) while trussed in a corset is quite uncomfortable, indeed.  Bring on the straight-backed seat of a traveling coach!

Glad to be free of my incommodious mode of transportation, I dropped my anachronistic keys into my reticule, donned my flowered purple bonnet and ivory tatted gloves, then set myself to lifting my portmanteau (a.k.a. suitcase) from the trunk. 

It was here I discovered a corset posed greater than expected limitations on independence.  The heavy busk, which I had become quite accustomed to, unexpectedly rendered my abdominal strength wholly ineffective for lifting.  Now I know why Ladies have need of a footman.

(MJP: Nina entered Riversdale and was greeted by the hostess (Ann Wass) and offered refreshments.  She found that several of the dozen or so ladies present were writers of Regencies, creating a most congenial company.  Then came dinner….)

NINA:  I supped upon cold ham, an assortment of cheese, bread and a most wonderful unleavened cake topped with lemon curd, all the while learning that eating in a corset required more than a bit of finesse.  That is if one wished to keep one’s décolletage free of food and earn a view of the plate set before her. 

Firstly, I scooted back a bit in my chair, but the distance left my lap perilously exposed.  So I discreetly reseated myself and pushed my plate a bit deeper into the table, but that merely increased the opportunity for an errant blob of mustard or curd to most embarrassingly drizzle over the brocade table linen.  Finally, I gently nudged the food to the far side of plate (so I could see it) and carefully tended to each piece before allowing it to embark upon the perilous journey over the two ripe melons protruding above my bodice as if proudly displayed on a grocer’s shelf.

As the evening aged, I thought to slip away from the activities and prepare for bed.  But I was quickly reminded by the swish of skirts about my feet that I was not able to undo even one hook to free myself from the many swathing layers.  No longer was I the independent, self reliant modern woman I had been just twelve hours ago.  Indeed, I was becoming a Regency lady.

  Soon the evening was called and wonderful Marie—my tall, young “corset buddy” (an arrangement we had secretly made earlier in the day) — set her nimble fingers to the task and before long, the walking dress and petticoat slid over my hips.  I could taste the coming freedom.  Then she began to tug on my double knotted corset strings and I suddenly realized my lovelies were about to head south, very far south, in front of her.  In front of everybody!  (Right--Nina and her "corset buddy," Marie Grenchik.)

That I would be naked, as my shift covered me wholly, from shoulder to knee.  Nor was anyone staring.  But I am, as most women probably are, accustomed to much more privacy when my less than flattering secrets are laid bare.  No wonder ladies insisted on traveling with their maids as submitting one’s self (and one’s best kept secrets) to a stranger feels, well, strange. 

(MJP: After an educational Saaturday of sewing, gaming, and socialization--and glancing out the window to estimate time since the modern watch had gone the way of the car keys--it was time for the ball that would end the Regency weekend.)

  NINA: We danced and played the evening away, a swirl of community held together by the illusion of transport we all seemed to guard tightly in our breasts.  The dances were divine, allowing every dancer to dance with every other in the room as we turned and turned again, always reaching for another’s gloved hand.  We left for the gaming tables just as the windows of the Great Hall were being thrown open, inviting the cool night air to join us when next we returned.  And we did return, drunk with laughter, and danced again. 

Much too soon, the evening ended with the Duke of Kent’s Waltz and a hearty huzzah for Mr. Jim Wass, our most excellent and long-suffering dance master. (The picture shows Maria Grenchik (green gown), author Kristina Cook (blue gown), Jim Wass (Dance Master), and Nina in her magnificent burgundy ball gown.)

Then, I stood, damp with exertion, my corset buddy at my back, again, her nimble fingers tugging on the corset strings.  Embarrassment did not enter my mind as we laughed and talked and others came and went from the room, suitcases and gowns in hand, saying a fond Adieu.  When at last I tugged on my jeans, an empty quiet had fallen over Riversdale, almost as if it had all been a dream.  But the levity in my heart and the cloud of crowned curls upon my head promised it had not. 

My faithful corset tucked under my arm, I descended the front marble steps, alone as when I entered, suitcase bumping along behind me.  The illusion fading, I wondered who had the better life?--us with our easy “on/off” bras and stretchy clothing or them with hooks they couldn’t reach and laces they couldn’t untie?   “They had the better life,” was my mental decision as I easily lifted the suitcase into the trunk, then comfortably slipped into the driver’s seat.  Those women, I mused, really needed one another.  And from that base need there seemed to bloom joy in companionship. 

I started the car, then glanced back and waved my own fond farewell to a time in which I can only dream (and write) about.

Oh, by the by, should any of you still be wondering where all the fat goes when I sit down… well, thank goodness Regency stays aren’t laced that tight!

(MJP: I couldn’t resist adding a lovely meditation on Regency sensuality that Nina sent me in a separate e-mail):

NINA: It’s sort of hard to explain but wearing Regency fashion is like trading independence for power.  IMHO, both women and men lost something in the sexual revolution.  Women lost the power to tantalize and lure the opposite sex.  Men don’t need to dance with us as an excuse to touch our hand.  They don’t need to charm us with wit or a smile in public as they can freely put an arm around our waist.  We are no longer a mystery to them.  We are independent.  Their equal.  So, why should they have to open a door or help us on with our coat? 

  But in proper Regency dress, while a healthy expanse of “neck” is available for admiring eyes, the shape of the body remains a mystery.  A very tantalizing one.  The right to unwrap the pretty package must be earned with winks and smiles, dancing and wit, sweet nothings and flowers.  While lacking independence, woman owned a great deal of power. 

The first time my husband saw me in my ball gown he gave me a smile I haven’t seen since our wedding day.  He wanted to unwrap the package (though he has seen it thousands of times) and he instinctively knew what he must do to do to earn the right.  Perhaps it was because I appeared untouchable, a delicate glass vase set high upon a shelf, something he could only admire.  In our entire married lives we have never danced more than once or twice.  But the night of the Regency Weekend, he took my hand, led me onto the dance floor and we danced.  After the last set he was very glad the package was his to take home and unwrap.  <g>

Thank you, Mary Jo, for having me as your guest on Word Wenches.  It has been wonderful fun.

MJP: So there are the experiences and insights of a thoughtful wenchling.  How about the rest of you?  Have you had Regency experiences you’d like to share?  Have Nina’s observations invoked some startled thoughts?  (No upper body strength gave me pause.)  If so, tell us about them!

Mary Jo, offering many thanks to Nina for sharing her Regency experiences!

Win a Signed Copy of "Not Quite A Lady"

O.K., so Loretta and I were so eager to put up her interview on Friday that we forgot to add that she's giving away a signed copy of Not Quite A Lady.  This is what comes of putting two Geminis on a single task; don't even BEGIN to consider how we'd replace a lightbulb. Loretta will draw a name at random from everyone who posts on either part of her interview (this week, or next Friday's), so please, add your comment or question for Loretta now!

Susan/Miranda

An Interview with Wench Loretta Chase Part 1

Susan/Miranda interviews Loretta:

One of the questions most often asked of writers is “Whose books do you read?”  The name that always comes to my mind first is Loretta Chase.  Throughout a career that began with traditional Regencies and now has expanded to Regency historicals, Loretta has always pushed the boundaries of the genre with unexpected characters, exotic settings, and her own sparkling brand of humor.  Her books are not only frequent award winners (she has won RWA’s prestigious Rita award twice) and USAToday Bestsellers, but also reader favorites, with Lord of Scoundrels a regular on most lists of “Best Romances of All Time.” 

Just released this month, her latest book, Not Quite a Lady, is classic Loretta, with a delicious hero and heroine (not to mention a splendid pig named Hyacinth), and I’m happy to report that it’s already gone into its second printing –– yayy, Loretta! 

Because Loretta and I found so many things to chat about here, we decided to split this interview into two parts.  You’ll find Part One below; Part Two will be posted next Friday.

Susan/Miranda (and Friend of Loretta *g*)

1.   Your May book NOT QUITE A LADY returns to the Carsingtons, a family already dear to readers of your earlier books.   Can you tell us a bit about NOT QUITE A LADY?

This is the fourth--and the last (for now) in the series.  The youngest brother, Darius, is a rake and a scholar.  Determined to avoid matrimony, he accepts his father’s challenge to revive a tumbledown estate in Cheshire.  There Lady Charlotte Hayward, also determined to avoid matrimony, stumbles--quite literally--over him.  There’s a lot of falling down, and a pig, a bulldog, a dairy (please see my blog of 10/28/06, Beautiful Dairy), a laundry, and superstitious carpenters, among other things.

2.   The rural setting of this book is so vividly captured that it becomes
almost another character.   WordWenches visitors already know you often take
your research beyond libraries.   Can you tell us more specifically how you
researched the background for this book?   Is Lithby Hall based on a actual place? 
What kind of research did you do to capture Darius’s interests in farming
and husbandry?   And did a real pig inspire Hyacinth?

It all started with the pig, actually.  Hyacinth was inspired by the Empress of Blandings, of P.G. Wodehouses’s Blandings Castle stories.

Imagining a pig is easy, even for a city girl, but getting Hyacinth’s world right was trickier. What did a sty look like, exactly?  What did it smell like?  To create a believable fictional environment, I needed, among other things, live pigs.  There being none in my neighborhood (dogs abound--not a pig for miles) my husband and I made a research trip to Old Sturbridge Village, a living history museum in Sturbridge, Massachusetts that recreates New England village life in the early 1800s.  It turned out that they not only had plenty of farm animals, but these were historically accurate English farm animals.  I was so excited.  Not only was I able to get up close to pigs, and hang over the sty fence the way my characters do, but I could interrogate the interpreters at OSV, who offered all kinds of fascinating information about farm animals and farm life.

One of the many things I loved about writing this story was the chance to look at the great English country house from a different angle.  As I noted in LORD PERFECT, a great estate wasn’t simply a big house in a pretty, landscaped park.  It was a rural community, where a great many people worked, and it provided for itself to a great extent.  It could include a brew house for making beer, a dairy, a laundry, a home farm, a plantation--with logging as well as carpentry operations, a blacksmith, etc.

(L-R photo credits:  Uppark Dairy by Peter Glass, Uppark Park dairy scullery by James Stringer, blacksmiths by Loretta)

Not all of the research was hands-on, though.  I did read books that explained how country estates worked, as well as, in crumbling volumes of the Philosophical Magazine from the 1820s, the kinds of articles Darius might have written about agricultural experiments. 

Near my desk hung a map of the area of Cheshire where the story is set, and yes, I did base it on a real place:  Lithby Hall is an adaptation of Dunham Massey (more here), with elements from a few other estates in the area.  For a sense of the place(s), here are some more pictures.

3.   While Darius was obviously the next Carsington brother to earn hero-status, NOT QUITE A LADY is every bit the heroine’s story –- maybe even more so.   Which one came first into your imagination: Darius, or Lady Charlotte Hayward?   What makes them so perfectly right for one another?

Charlotte came first, and I do agree that it’s her story to a great extent, because of the nature of her problem.  The spark for her was Lady Dedlock in Charles Dickens’s BLEAK HOUSE.  Lady Dedlock is a tragic character, and the view of her situation is not only Victorian but very middle-class.  However, in 1822--the time of my story--she would have been about Charlotte’s age and part of a world that wasn’t Victorian--yet.  So I thought What If?  What if she’d come from a family much higher on the social scale?  What if her family wasn’t dysfunctional?  What if she wasn’t so suppressed?  What if she was mischievous and clever and down-to-earth?  And, most important, What if she met an earthy, intelligent, sexy guy like Darius who’s the antithesis of the Victorian male?

My aim is to create believable soulmates, and that seems to require the right balance of similarities and differences.  She loves the country, and she cares about the same things Darius cares about.  They’re comfortable with the animals, the land, the ebb and flow of country life.  They’re both earthy, close to nature.  They’re earthy in the sexual sense, too--that’s how she got into trouble in the first place.  But each character also needs something, and the other provides a balance.  So she’s very emotional and he’s very cool and methodical.  She’s got a lot of shame, and he has none.  In the course of the story, he takes the shame away and she makes him feel deeply.  She learns that she can trust a man with her heart and he discovers the profound happiness of giving his heart to one woman, forever.

4.   Many of your heroines are older women who, one way or another, have
experienced something of life, and Lady Charlotte is no exception.   What makes
for an ideal heroine to you?

When you set a story among the early 19th C British aristocracy, a young, inexperienced girl may seem almost childish by today’s standards (and I do have to walk that tightrope between historical accuracy and connecting with my 21st century audience).  She really is fresh from the schoolroom, where she’s probably not been very well educated, compared to men.  What do these girls have to say to the much more sophisticated and experienced male?  What do they have to offer the hero besides innocence and freshness--and how much can an author who isn’t Georgette Heyer do with that?  Maybe, too, I shy away from inexperienced heroines because of the kinds of heroes I create.  I want to give these guys partners who test their mettle.  And a woman like Charlotte, who’s had a Really Bad Experience with a man, is going to present a challenge.  How will the hero prove himself worthy of her?  How will he earn her trust?  Those are the questions I want to deal with.

To be continued next Friday -- but please feel free to ask Loretta any questions you may have now!

Mayday Mayday! Edith Can't Work in May!

It’s May.  Time when a young …young-ish…young in spirits writer’s mind turns to ...jelly. Who can think with apple and cherry and peach blossoms, and tulips and bluebells and bright sunny dandelions rioting outside her window?  And mocking birds making the backyard ring with dozens of gracious melodies?  And soft warm breezes wafting through the lilacs, stirring the air the after weeks of cold and wet and dank...

You get it.  And I got it.  Spring fever. It stays lighter every evening, and we enjoy lighter clothes, lighter foods, lighter wines, and yes, lighter books. Not the best time to read Tolstoy.  And though I love old Fyodor, let’s put Dostoyevsky down until autumn leaves start to fall. Summer’s the time for big colorful epics, sequels, beach books, and blockbusters in movies and in print.

But spring? Ah spring.  That’s my time for re-reads, and sentimental reads, humorous reads, and oh so very romantic books to dream upon. Whatever the season, I love to read.  And I know you do too. So I ask you gentle readers: what would you recommend an old softie like me read during this merry magical month of May?

Also, I recently did a series of video interviews with romancenovel.tv .  I'm a bit shy about posting them (my daughter, who has been posting them with silly commentary is not), but if like me you want a break from working, but feel too guilty to go outside, check them out, do!

To view the latest interview, simply click here.

Writing History

Susan Sarah here....

I’m in a research phase, which means lots of trips to libraries, sitting for long hours at the computer looking through various book sites (and oh what wonderful book sites there are, from Amazon and Barnes and Noble to Alibris, to Google Print Books...sheer heaven....). A research phase also means poring through my own bookshelves to see what I have on hand that would be useful for writing the next book. And with groups of bookcases in several rooms, that’s a task in itself, a delightful one that gives me a great excuse to reacquaint myself with the books I’ve acquired and read (okay and some I haven’t, which is why I sometimes find the perfect gem for my current research projects on my own shelves!).

I learned to enjoy history through reading nonfiction history as well as novels, but not all nonfiction accounts, by a long shot, are readable.... Great nonfiction writing is as much an art as fiction.

When I was in grad school, one esteemed but haughty professor once told a flailing, and failing, student in a seminar: If you can’t write, get out of art history. Harsh words, and we all ran for cover, but in essence, we all knew he was right. Good writing makes the difference every time. Clarity, organization, accessible delivery and style are all important in writing nonfiction. Otherwise, the reader may end up slogging through scholarly quicksand and the morass of unskilled prose just trying to absorb some necessary information.

Over the years some nonfiction books have stirred me to an interest in history-–and inspired me to become a better, stronger writer, regardless of the context. Pure writing skill, as much as history, catches my attention, and when the subject is only marginally interesting, it's the writing that keeps me reading, and the scholar’s voice on those pages that can keep me focused and awake.

Writing nonfiction history has its own particular challenges, including expertise, organization, detail, proof (footnotes, and the endless checking of facts), and of course keeping the goals of the piece in mind throughout. Writing historical accounts has another unique challenge. In the hands of a brilliant scholar but a lesser writer, the greatest subject can become deadly boring. Luckily for us, many scholarly writers are also gifted storytellers, no matter the subject, and they're often gifted wordsmiths with a gentle wit and an ear for language. These additional gifts help bring history to life, make it real and immediate, memorable and accessible, and equally as compelling as a great novel. These writers make history easy to comprehend and to love.

Here are a few of my favorites, some of the best of the historical reading, and writing, that I’ve encountered over the years. Of course it’s an incomplete list!!! There are many, MANY more. And since it’s my list, it’s weighted toward medieval and Scottish... but that doesn’t matter. Good history writing is good history writing. If you go for that, any of these books would appeal to you. What they have in common is not only brilliant scholarship, but sparkling prose, compelling style, and the gift of making any subject matter unforgettable and fascinating....

Sir Walter Scott, Tales Of A Grandfather – Scott wrote these volumes for his young grandson, Hugh...who unfortunately died only a couple of years later, which makes his grandfather’s effort all the more poignant. A bit stiff in Scott’s inimitable Romantic style, but he gives a face and a heart to every one of his historical subjects.

Johan Huizinga, The Waning of the Middle Ages (now called in its newest edition The Autumn of the Middle Ages). One of the landmark books in medieval history writing, it will stick with me forever. “One sound rose ceaselessly above the noises of busy life and lifted all things unto a sphere of order and serenity: the sound of bells.”

Thomas B. Costain, The Conquerors, several volumes (which came out in paperback in 1949 as The Conquering Family, The Magnificent Century, The Last Plantagenets, etc.) – A novelist writes history. Very gossipy and not the best scholarly source, it gave immediacy to the English medieval period, making these obscure folks seem as familiar as your next-door neighbors.

Erwin Panofsky, Early Netherlandish Painting. His study of medieval and Northern Renaissance art is indulgently readable–-the prose sparkles, and every subject he looks at takes on vivid life. A landmark, incredible study that can be read for its brilliant thinking, or the pure joy in the writing.

Amy Kelly, Eleanor Of Aquitaine And The Four Kings – Written in 1950, and even though our facts today are more exact, this remains a major source for understanding this remarkable, powerful, fascinating queen – and much of that is due to the author’s gift for understanding the character and motivations of Eleanor, and her time.

Anne Ross and Don Robins - Life and Death Of A Druid Prince – a slim little book about a bog find that (and pardon the pun!) fleshes out obscure archaeological skeletons. This prince comes to life as a sympathetic victim of his society and his time.

Natalie Zemon Davis, The Return Of Martin Guerre. Not the movie with Gerard Depardieu, which was wonderful, but the book itself – one of the best examples of strong scholarship and scholarly writing that I’ve ever seen. It’s like reading a compelling mystery.

Antonia Fraser, Mary, Queen of Scots. This was one I could not put down, sobbing my way through the ending as if it were a kleenex-box novel, and I still have not forgotten it – and in my line of work, I’ve frequently gone back to it. Fraser has an indisputable gift of making history come alive (besides, her family might be very, very distantly related to my own, so I wave that Fraser banner whenever I can!). Fraser is one of the best nonfiction historical writers, and one of the founders of writing great accounts of women’s history.

Alison Weir, The Six Wives of Henry VIII – another landmark in writing women’s history, and a very readable account of a very complex time. Weir is one of the best nonfiction historical writers around, and now she’s writing fiction – her newest, Innocent Traitor, is fascinating.

Carolly Erickson, Great Harry – just one example of a fine list of books by another author who has made history readable, accessible, and enjoyable.

Bella Bathurst, The Lighthouse Stevensons. I didn’t think a history of lighthouses or engineering could be very interesting, even with the family of Robert Louis Stevenson at its center--but this is another one that sucked me in and didn’t let go. An astonishing, fun, informative read.

Fred Anderson, The Crucible of War – a big, intense, fascinating book that examines the French and Indian War and the beginnings of the Revolution. If you want history that reads like a novel you can’t put down, this is it. He writes like a thriller novelist, and propels you deep into the book.

Amy Butler Greenfield, A Perfect Red – recommended to me by one of the other Wenches, this is a rich, lush read that combines perfect scholarship with gorgeous prose. Who’d a-thunk reading about a color could be so much fun?!

I could go on and on – but I have to get back to my research! 
And now it’s your turn. I’d love to know which nonfiction history books have grabbed you with all the force of a master novelist crafting a great story!

~Susan Sarah

The Shirt Off His Back

By Susan/Miranda

There are few garments in Romance-Land more closely associated with historical heroes than shirts.  Full-sleeved, snowy shirts, unfastened down to there and billowing freely in the wind like the hero’s tousled hair, the shirt remains a constant on the cover of almost every historical romance, as frequently torn asunder as any heroine’s hapless bodice.  These shirts carry so much cultural baggage that they even inspired an entire episode of Seinfeld, when (of course) to please a woman, Jerry agrees to wear the humiliating “puffy shirt” on the Today show.   

Yet just as the self-destructing gowns worn by romance cover-girls bear little resemblance to what the women inside our books are wearing, all those tacky polyester dress shirts don’t have much to do with a real 19th century gentleman’s wardrobe, either.

Our guys deserve better.  And so, cheerfully, I’ll digress today from the usual Wenchly topics, and offer instead a settling of the sartorial record. 

For European men from the middle ages well into the late nineteenth century, the shirt wasn’t only an indispensable piece of clothing; it was a remarkably democratic one, too.  The shirts worn by Henry VIII would have been cut exactly the same as the ones worn by his grooms, as well as by Thomas Jefferson, Beau Brummel, and Huckleberry Finn, too.  These shirts were constructed from a series of rectangles, without a single curved seam.  They pulled over the head with an opening slit to about mid-chest, and fastened with buttons at the throat.  The book cover full-chest-bearing simply wasn’t possible.  The sleeves were luxuriously full, about 24” wide or more, and pleated into the dropped shoulders and wrist cuffs.  Additional gussets were placed under the arms for ease.  The collar was another rectangle, soft and without interlining, whose final shape was determined by the neckcloth or kerchief tied around it.

These shirts were wide and long, reaching to the middle of the thighs.  Suggested measurements from the 18th century calls for an ordinary sized shirt to be 60” around and 40” long!  For most men, the shirt was an all-purpose garment, serving as a nightshirt and underwear as well (underdrawers still be rare and vaguely suspect.)  The oversized nature of a shirt was also a protective barrier between the body and the more expensive (and harder to wash) coats, waistcoats, and breeches that went over it. 

A gentleman’s shirt was generally made of linen, Holland linen being the most prized. Farther down the social scale, shirts would also be linen of a coarser grade, such as tow.  (Cotton remained a luxury fabric until the middle of the 19th century, and not much used for shirts until then.)  But forget that stiff, scratchy modern linen you have to take to the dry cleaner.  Old-fashioned washed linen is a marvelously sensuous fiber. It’s long-wearing, easy to wash, and gets softer with wear.  It holds the warmth of the skin gently, without getting sticky or clammy, yet it’s also remarkably cool in the summer.  It’s the perfect stuff for our heroes to wear. If I could figure out a way to link to a touchable swatch, I would.*g*

And despite what the occasional hapless, carelessly-researched hero might be forced to wear, no self-respecting Englishman before 1900, rich or poor or in-between, ever wore a slippery woven silk shirt.  Ever.

Social distinctions did show in a shirt’s details.  The fine twist of the linen, the purity of the whiteness, the daintiness of the stitching and seaming, self-ruffles for the most fashionable, with a discreet monogram embroidered at the hem –– all were the marks of an expensive shirt.  How that shirt was washed and pressed denoted a gentleman’s rank as well: the dozens of tiny vertical pleats pressed into the wide sleeves to compress them enough to fit into a narrow coat sleeve required the most accomplished laundresses using specialized irons.  Among the middling sort, where clothes were still made at home, women lavished much care and skill on their husband’s shirts, with needle-lace trim at the throat or whitework embroidery on the cuffs.  A girl wasn’t declared marriageable until she’d demonstrated the sewing skill to stitch a man’s shirt, which her groom would wear on their wedding day. 

But back to our cover-model.  Not only should his chest be covered by his shirt, but that shirt in turn should be covered as well, by a coat or jacket and waistcoat.  Two hundred years ago, a gentleman would no more consider walking about in company in his shirt-sleeves than a modern-day executive would appear on Wall Street in only his swim-trunks.  It simply wouldn’t have been done.  There was an excellent chance that the gentleman’s lady would have had to wait until they were wed to see his bare arms, let alone the other more private parts of him.  If the gentleman is a Wenchly hero, at least we know the wait will be worth it.

So what’s your pleasure?  We all like a handsome rogue on the cover.  But do you prefer him with his anachronistic shirt barely hanging from his manly bare shoulders, or would you prefer him to be properly dressed?  Do the bare-chested hero-covers make you sigh with admiration, or do they make you slip-cover your reading before you ride mass transit?

Wickedly, sinfully, deliciously dangerous.

Jo here. Last time around I was thinking about historicals and forbidden fantasies, and when it comes down to it, we were talking about heroes, yes? Romance readers are mostly women, so it’s not surprising that many of our darker fantasies are about the opposite sex. But is it a bit strange that we don’t seem to have dark fantasies about what women could do if the rules were thrown aside?

Or do you think that happens in romances, historical or otherwise? Examples?

Maybe I see one way this happens – heroines are often a lot more willing to get in-your-face with dangerous males than most of us. Probably in real life most of us avoid the leather-clad biker, or the stubble-chinned guy leaning on a wall, eying the world with hard-eyed cynicism, not to mention the drunken sports fan, rolling out of the bar in the early hours looking for a fight.

So why is it that we find these guys thrilling between the pages of a book, and enjoy watching the much-braver-than-we heroine going nose-to-nose with him? Probably part of it is that they rarely get the sort of results they might in real life. Instead, the dangerous guy is melted, thawed, tamed. Or at least befuddled.

And let’s substitute a mercenary knight on dark horse for that Hell’s Angel on the Harley. Or a cynical earl standing aloof at a ball for the wall-leaner. (Or perhaps even Mr. Darcy, eying the provincial assembly with disdain.) And that drunken sports fan? A rake rolling out of a gaming hell, looking for trouble – but finding our heroine instead.

I’m not talking here about the sort of heroes who do real harm the heroine, but the ones we know could. Sometimes ones who can and do harm others. This could be in a noble context such as a soldier or cop, or not so noble, as with a man from the dark side of life who’s needed to be hard to survive.

I was thinking about this after my last blog, but it came even more to mind after I put up a couple of excerpts from Lady Beware.
Darien fits most closely the “man from the dark side of life who’s needed to be hard to survive,” and we see some of that during the encounter. Most of my readers find it thrilling, but a few are disturbed. You can read them here.

Chapter One
Or you can skip straight to the confrontation here. Chapter Two

Your reaction?

So why do these scary heroes make for thrilling stories? Or don’t you agree about the thrill?

Where’s the line for you between thrillingly dangerous and truly scary? Is some of it context?

Does motivation matter?

Your ever enquiring Jo