Word Wenches

Old Voice, New Voice

Pat here, hastily stepping in for Anne who has been doing entirely too much playing lately!  She’ll be back next week to interview me while I’m at the RT Book Review convention in L.A., so I suppose I shouldn’t tease her about skipping out.

As many of you know, I’ve been converting some of my older books into digital format. For most authors, this is a basic process if they’re willing to throw a few dollars at it and let someone else do the work. But my inner control freak emerges when confronted with a manuscript I can change after all these years.

The contemporary romances I’ve already put up were relatively recent books and didn’t require a lot of work, but now I’m digging into twenty-year-old historicals created on prehistoric equipment. I have been working on just four books for six months now. I like to think I’m closer to publishing them, but I may be kidding myself. Not only were the scans incredibly, horribly bad on these books, but my voice….  Argh! I can’t believe I wrote that way.

And I have to blame it on voice. There is nothing inherently incorrect in writing a paragraph where the hero “is going to” do something and if that doesn’t happen, he’s “going to do” something else. It gets a little iffier when he’s “got to go do” it but these are westerns. The language isn’t precise. But it starts piling up until after a while, the “gots” and “going tos” become an inescapable rhythm that causes modern day Pat to scream bloody murder.

And that’s just the tip of the monstrous iceberg. How about “Her hands felt his chest”?  Want to take that one on?  Their hands and their eyes and their feet did a lot of things that would have been far easier to state had I just said “She rubbed his chest” or “She walked away” instead of “Her feet carried her to the door.”  Double argh!!!!

How can I let these books loose into the wild? One of them was a Rita nominee! But I simply can’t release the books in their original format. Sorry. The stories are fine, the characters are strong, I would have done a LOT of things differently today, but I don’t want to monkey with the original stories. But by golly gee, I can at least clarify which “he” or “him” is doing what so I don’t spend half an hour scratching my head wondering who is on the roof and who is setting the barn on fire!

Do any of you go back and read your older “keepers” and wonder what in heck you were thinking when you read and loved them the first time? I can remember comparing Kathleen Woodiwiss’s voice to Shakespeare in my early years. Now I can’t wade through all the extraneous prose. Do you have any romance books that you can still go back to and enjoy without noticing the idiosyncrasies of the period?

Mind your language - A (very) short history of swearing!

Nicola here. Those readers who do not like profanity may wish to look away now, as this blog post carries an 18 certificate! Today I am writing a little about the history of swearing. I’m sure you can imagine the difficulty I had in trying to work out how to illustrate this blog with pictures.

Swearing, profanity and vulgar slang is a complicated subject. It’s one of those topics that can divide the British and the Americans, with certain words meaning quite different things depending on which side of the Atlantic you are on. Mention a fanny pack to a Brit or an Australian, for example, and you will get a blank look at best and possibly a far more extreme reaction. As the online dictionary says when defining the word fanny: “Serious misunderstandings may arise…”

 Taking the name of the lord in vain

 If we go back to the Tudor and Stuart periods we find that swearing was mainly a religious issue. Just as taking an oath was to call upon God to guarantee the truth of a statement (so help me God), profane swearing took God’s name in vain. Then as now, some individuals tried to shock by transgressing against the accepted standards of the age. It was also a way to show one’s worldliness and social standing – showing off, in fact. The dissolute libertines of the Restoration court were very free with their profanities, using oaths such as “damn me”, “God’s wounds” or “By Our Lady” in an attempt to get a horrified reaction from the more god-fearing members of society.

Swearing was equally as common amongst the lower social classes and wherever men in particular were gathered, for example in the army or at labour. At male-dominated social events it was likely that “several volleys of execrable oaths,” to quote one disapproving gentleman, would resound from all sides. Moralists saw the rise of religious swearing as a sign of the decline in society. Protestants were keen to stamp out the Catholic oaths. Between 1603 and 1820 in England, laws were passed criminalising swearing with the punishment being a fine or some time in the stocks. Slowly, however, attitudes changed towards the religious profane oath so that words such as damn and even bloody, deriving of course from “by our lady”, came to be seen as less offensive than some other forms of swearing. Today in England damn is generally considered a very mild swear word indeed.

Meanwhile back in the Tudor and Stuart period, we have Shakespeare, master of the oath. He tended to make up his own insults rather than draw on the religious profane. Some examples from his plays: "Thou beslubbering, swag-bellied maggot pie." "Thou mewling, sheep-biting hugger mugger." "Thou yeasty, reeling, ripe bum-bailey." A bum-bailey was actually a bailiff or sheriff’s deputy in Shakespeare’s time but some scholars suggest he was giving the phrase other, more sexual, connotations as well.

Vile Bodies and their functions

Which brings us to swearing that is sexual or scatological in nature, and to the Anglo Saxons, who frequently get the blame for words which later came to be used in swearing. In fact many of these taboo words came into the English language from other sources. The origin of the f-word, for example, is disputed with some scholars suggesting that it derives from the old German ficken, to strike or penetrate, which in turn was related to the Latin for to prick. The verb futuere in Latin had the slang meaning of to copulate. A record of 1278 refers to a man named John LeFucker – one hopes this was not an instance of someone being named after their occupation - and the f word was in common usage in England by the 16^th century. However it was not used in the vulgar sense until the 18^th century.

Swear words can fall from popularity as well as attain it. Back in the Middle Ages the word “sard” meant the same as the f-word but these days you never hear anyone muttering “sarding hell” when something goes wrong. Some words change usage or fade altogether. Today sard is a gemstone (pictured)!

The c-word is the last taboo in British English and again is derived from various words in Old Norse, High German and Latin. The word appears to have entered the English language in the 13^th century and both Oxford and London had districts called “Gropecunte Lane” in explicit recognition of the prostitutes who plied their trade there. The Oxford name was later changed to Magpie Lane, (in the picture of the right) and the London one to Threadneedle Street. It is now the home of the Bank of England...

Interestingly the English insult “berk” also derives from the c-word, being Cockney rhyming slang for the “Old Berkshire Hunt.” This word was very popular in the 1970s and 80s but again has almost fallen out of usage now and I suspect many people who used it would have been appalled to have discovered its derivation.

The word sh1t is a true Anglo Saxon word. It appears in literature in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, but at this stage of its usage it was simply a word not a swear word. By the 18^th century it was used in the vulgar sense, notably in Jonathan Swift’s The Lady’s Dressing Room, which contains the immortal lines:

“Thus finishing his grand survey,
Disgusted Strephon stole away
Repeating in his amorous fits,
Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia…” (I’ll leave you to complete the rhyme!)

Finally I have to say a few words about the word “pish” as they call it in Scotland since it has such an interesting history. It’s origins are pissare (Latin) and pisser (French) and it has long been used as a vulgar word. In the 17^th century a man who was considered full of himself would be called “p*ss-proud.” The new canting dictionary of 1725 sums it up in a derivation of ostentatious and vainglorious:

“One that boasts without reason or pisses more than he drinks.”

The illustration is the famous Belgian statue the Mannekin Pis in Brussels.

I could go on – there are many more swear words with interesting historical derivations and usage. But I’ll end with the news that the BBC is introducing swear words into its latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights, in order to give the book “a more contemporary feel.” This prompted one national UK newspaper to speculate on what it would be like if swearing was introduced into other classics such as Dickens Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the time when everything was totally, like, cr*p.”

Where do you stand on swearing in books? Do you think that the judicious use of profanity reflects society and can add something to the language or do you think we can do without it altogether? Would you like to invent your own profanities, like Shakespeare? Is there too much swearing around these days or is it all part of a rich cultural heritage?

(1) RITA Times 4; (2) Jo Hits the NYT List; (3) a New Winner

The champagne is flowing and high-fives abound in Wenchlandia!  Four Wenches have finaled in Romance Writers of America's RITA contest.  Here are the finalists:

HISTORICAL CATEGORY

The Forbidden Rose                  One Wicked Sin 

by Joanna Bourne                      by Nicola Cornick

                    

REGENCY CATEGORY

To Surrender to a Rogue         The Wicked Wyckerly

by Cara Elliott                          by Patricia Rice

                 

Congratulations, finalists!  Wenches rule! 

JO MAKES NY TIMES LIST

But  wait, there's more good news:  Jo Beverley's An Unlikely Countess debuted on the NY Times list last week at the #17 slot.  An impressive showing, indeed.  And this week it is still on the list, having climbed to #13. There's no stopping the Wenches when they're on a roll.  Just more cause for celebration in Wenchlandia!

 

A NEW WINNER

Our newest winner is Dee, who has won a copy of Cara/Andrea Penrose's Sweet Revenge.  Dee, we've e-mailed you but not heard back yet.  If you see this message, please send your mailing address to Sherrie and we'll get that book to you!

A hint to the wise:  we give away a lot of books on this blog, so it's a good idea to check back to see if your name was drawn as a winner.  Winners will be listed in the Winners sidebar on the right, and they'll also be mentioned in our Sunday announcements. 

Windows into the Past

Jo here, happy to report that An Unlikely Countess is selling well. Thanks to everyone who has bought a copy.

I'm sharing here some snippets of life in the 1760s from contemporary publications. I collected these bits at a library.

As is often the case when we look into the real past, there are some questions.

Jan 1766

"We are informed that a grand Pleasure Bath is intended to be made this Summer in Richmond Gardens for the Reception of the Royal Family."

Richmond Gardens became part of the famous Kew Gardens, seen left back then, but what exactly was a Pleasure Bath? Did they go swimming there?

Travel

I'm constantly trying to understand coach travel in the 18th century, so this story intrigues me. Alas, I have no idea what scam the lady was working, though it presumably made sense to her contemporaries.

My only thought is that a chaise was paid for at the end of the journey, not the beginning, so by going for a walk, she put off payment, presumably because the payment would include her dinner. It seems odd, however, as there could be any number of ways a passenger could slip away without paying.

"A few days since, a Courtezan, being discharged by a gentleman of fortune in the County of Hants, took Chaise at Winton (with her maid and child) for Andover; and at the Star and Garter ordered a fowl to be roasted and Horses got ready, while she took a Walk, then went to the White Hart in the same Town, took Chaise and went on; and in the same manner bilked the whole Road, except the last Stage in Piccadilly, when the boy secured a mundle for payment."

From coach travel, to coach accidents.

They were alarmingly frequent, and I think they're under used in fiction. Of course there's a coach accident in An Unlikely Countess, but it's contrived. Given the state of the roads and the frequency of breakdowns and crashes, however, it could have happened by chance.

"On Sunday last a Phaeton was overturned in Piccadilly, by which means a Gentleman in it broke his Arm, and a Lady, his companion, had the misfortune to break both her legs. The latter, it is reported, has since died."

That reminds us how easily broken bones could be fatal back then.

Or what about this one? A headline incident!

"A carriage containing His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales was returning from airing in Hyde Park, one of the wheel-horses took fright and got his leg over the pole of the coach; which set the horse a plunging, so as greatly to endanger the overturning of the carriage; but luckily Captain Smythe of the Horse Grenadier Guards just at that time passing by, and seeing the imminent danger the Prince was in, immediately run up to the coach, and received His Highness from one of the Ladies therein, to prevent the consequences that might have ensued." 

I assume Captain Smythe was handsomely rewarded for rescuing the future Prince Regent. (The officer pictured is a dragood, not a member of the Guards.)

And lastly, a vignette which showed the considerable restrictions women still lived with in the mid 18th century.

"Among the many places where the Diversion of Skating at this Season prevails, the Lake House, belonging to Lord Tilney, on Epping Forest, is one of the most frequented, by Means of a Concourse of neighbouring gentry, who have daily assembled there for this Week past. Many of these Skaters dress in Masquerade, which adds much to the pleasing Effect which this Amusement has on the Spectators; With the rest, an agreeable young female Form has struck the Admiration of the Crowd pretty constantly, a Circumstance uncommon in this Country, but which may introduce, it is imagined by some, this Dutch Custom among the English ladies.

An honest Farmer, in the Zeal of his Heart against the Times, accosted our Fair-one t'other Day, it must be owned, a little roughly. : "What a B___h! (says he) where will all this end; when Women have the Impudence thus publickly to skate among men!"

But he was soon reconciled to the Enormity, by the incident of a grave Gentleman (to whom she was at the same Time making a profound Curtesy) lifting up gently her Petticoats something higher than Delicacy, or perhaps Decenty would have permitted, and discovering the Lady to by neither more nor less than his own son disguised in Women's Clothes."

I can't help wondering exactly what was revealed by the raised skirts, but ut would seem that this mid-18th century picture is not likely to be a skater, as sometimes claimed.

I hope you enjoyed this glimpses into the past. What, if anything, surprised you? And what plots for romances did you come up with?

Jo

 

Historical Homeownership

Pat here:

My newly acquired "vintage" kitchen.

Since I seem to have spent the better part of my adult life hunting for houses and I’m wrapped around the process again, Jo’s recent blog at Minepast made me smile. (Not easy to do while wading through book-size stacks of real estate documents and arguing with insurance agents!)  She’s found a page that gives us a history of one of Mayfair’s more famous squares—Grosvenor. 

The famous characters we read about in our history books become human when we see them talking about their homes, the area where they live, the thieves who preyed on the wealthy—especially since Grosvenor was one of the last squares to add gas lights.

Reading through the little tidbits, we can watch Georgian urban development much as our suburbs develop today. In 1706, it’s little more than a cow pasture. By 1795, it’s surrounded by city and acclaimed as one of the most fashionable areas in London. By the 20th century, almost all the grand all houses had been destroyed, replaced by embassies and hotels—but still a very important urban center.

The Cato Conspiracy was designed to murder the leading statesmen of the time at a dinner in one of the homes on Grosvenor Square—rather like terrorists planning to attack the UN today had it not been for spies infiltrating the group. Some things never change—only the technology becomes more sophisticated.


The wealthy development even suffered an economic housing crash just as we’ve seen today—the builders built too quickly apparently, before the wealthy in St. James (on the left) were ready to pack up and move. Housing prices plummeted and several builders went bankrupt. Contractors are historically notorious risk takers!

They even developed a Homeowner’s Association of sorts when the park around which the square was built started to deteriorate. Of course, it took an Act of Parliament to accomplish it. I wonder if that wasn’t the start of HOAs everywhere?

My fascination with houses spills over into my books, as I’ve pointed out before. My characters tend to remodel, renovate, and redecorate frequently. I guess that’s called writing what I know! Anyway, Merely Magic, the first of my Magic series is being reissued this month in trade paper from Sourcebooks. You should see what I do to damp, dark Northumberland castles!

Oh, and if you haven’t heard about the romance trading card craze, check out http://romancetradingcards.com/ . I’ve added my Evil Genius e-book but haven’t had time to do more yet. Jeannie Lin, one of our previous guests, and some of her friends started this devilishly clever little promo device. And yes, EG contains another house as a character—a magnificent Washington DC mansion with a spook in the attic—the spy kind, not the ghost.

What other books can you remember using houses as characters?

The Ballad of the Long Distance Storyteller

by Mary Jo

March 21st, 1986 

Not a date that will live in infamy, exactly, but that is the day I started writing my first romance.  Twenty-five years ago.

It was the first full day of spring, so the symbolism was good.  No deadlines for my freelance graphic design business, so I had the time to start the contrarian traditional Regency I’d been toying with in the weeks since I acquired my Leading Edge computer.  The Mayhem Consultant showed me how to use the word processing program, and Eureka!  I’d found the writing tool that could turn daydreams into books. 

Not that I had any expectation of actually selling a book, but what the heck, why not give it a try?  So I wrote “RR” for Regency Romance on a 5 ¼” floppy disc (yes, it’s been that long <G>) because I couldn’t admit even to myself that I was writing a book, and I started to work on the rather unimaginatively titled A Musical Lady.

And my life changed forever with less thought than I had invested in researching a new electric hand mixer.  For me, the biggest life changes tend to be the ones I don’t even notice until everything has been turned upside down.  Not that this is necessarily bad, but it is often surprising. <G>

So my fingers tripped lightly over the keys as a very Heyer-derivative story flowed out.  My brother-in-law, a fine pianist, read the first chunk and suggested calling it A Lady of Note, which was better and touched on the musical abilities of the heroine. 

Divine intervention stepped in, I found an agent in six weeks, sold the book on a partial in three months.  As soon as money was offered, the smooth flow of words diminished, never to be as easy again.  (Someone actually wanted to pay money for my stories?  Good but scary!) 

I turned in the book, my market savvy editor renamed it The Diabolical Baron, and I was off and running, like a lemming over a cliff.  On this, my 25th anniversary of starting that first book, I’m still diving off cliffs.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I’m not literary, I’m a storyteller because I love great stories, and what we love is mostly likely what we’ll write.  I like to read adventure, history, romance, fantasy, and happy endings.  Guess what I write. <G>

I’ve had my share of ups and downs, though more ups.  I’ve been overpaid and underpaid.  Treated wonderfully, and manipulated into a corner where I had to chew my paw off to escape the steel trap.  (Because they thought I couldn't escape.  They shouldn’t try to coerce stubborn authors. <G>)

I have pretty much always been able to write what I want, though some stories had to wait years for the time to be right.  I’ve had the fun of researching wonderful settings and events by setting stories in the middle of them.

I’ve told stories about good guys and bad girls and reformed bad guys.  And if none of my characters, tortured and otherwise, are really me, they all have some traits that echo in me. 

The people are never real people (except for the occasional historic figure), but the cats are always based on real cats. <G>  (That's Lacey.)

At the beginning, I didn’t even know how to format dialogue because I’d never written it before.  (Despite being an honors English major.)  Didn’t know how to do a kiss.  Luckily I didn’t have to figure out to write a sex scene in those early books!

Since my traditional Regencies tended to be too complicated and too long, not to mention paying too little to support me and my cat, I moved into historical romance. That is my enduring genre even though I’ve made side journeys into contemporary romance, fantasy, paranormal romance, and now young adult. There is just about always history, always romance, and most certainly a Happily Ever After!

I’ve mostly had good editors, with a couple of exceptions.   I remember the day a friend called cross country to say that the editor who had been making us both insane WAS LEAVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Joy abounding!  The editor is gone, but the friend and I are both still standing. 

I’ve had two amazing agents because I am lucky, not because I was businesslike or professional in agent hunting.  (Though I still haven’t quite forgiven the first for retiring a mere 19 years into our relationship.  Most inconsiderate of her!) 

I’ve made terrific friends who share my particular forms of madness, and we celebrate and commiserate each other’s ups and downs.  At conferences, we get together and tell the tales of our kind.  Of covers good (“it’s gorgeous!”) and bad.  (“It looks like he’s giving her a field pap test!”)

Of the infamous three armed heroine who helped launch Christina Dodds’ admirable career.  Of copyeditors.  (“This CE couldn’t have had English as his first language!”)  Of the legendary editor who changed a teenage secondary character into a raccoon because she didn’t want there to be the least possible hint of impropriety on the part of the hero.  (Yes, a raccoon.  Really.) 

Writing may be easy for some authors, but for me, it’s the hardest work I’ve ever done.  The hardest, and the most satisfying.  I can’t imagine doing anything else—I’m now unemployable in any real trade. 

Yesterday a friend called from New Mexico and we chatted.  She asked what I had coming out this year (Three new books!  No wonder I’m behind on everything. <G>)

She asked if I’d ever run out of story ideas.  An instant no from me.  Ideas are easy, it’s execution that’s hard.  The ideas are always there when I need them.  Apparently my brain is wired for stories.

So here I am, a battered old story wolf, prowling the wild hills of Storyland while more sensible folk stay within their pastures and work at jobs that have regular income and benefits and paid vacations.  In all of these years, I’ve never once had the desire to join the flock of the sensible. 

What about you?  Have you merrily started new projects that took you to places you never dreamed of?  Have you stayed with something—a career, a relationship, a hobby, longer than you ever imagined?  What interesting and totally unexpected turns in the road have you experienced? 

Mary Jo, still standing after 25 years.

 

 

 

New Winners

We have two more winners since our last winner announcement!  Bobbe Jacobs won an autographed book from guest and Honorary Word Wench Karen Harper. And Amy Cook won an autographed book from Joanna Bourne.  Congratulations, winners!  You should be receiving your books in the mail shortly.

Springing Into A New Genre

Cara/Andrea here,

The first day of spring is almost upon us, marking the start of a season that celebrates the world around us blossoming to life. Both the old and the burst forth with new buds as the sun stimulates growth. So it’s fitting that March has been month of new blooms for the Wenches. At the beginning of the month, Mary Jo announced her exciting entry in the Young Adult genre with Dark Mirror, a magical historical paranormal that sweeps readers from the Regency to World War II.

And today I’m delighted to announce my debut into the world of historical mystery with Sweet Revenge, which takes place in London during the spring of 1813. The book hits the shelves on April 5, and along with a new genre, I have a new name—Andrea Penrose (Oh, don’t ask! Publishing is very complicated these days, and I apologize if it’s confusing. But be assured that I will continue to write romance as Cara Elliott—I’m simply putting another hat on my head . . . and hoping my brain can carry the load!)

Here’s a small taste of the story (chocolate plays a big role in the story, but more on that next month!):

Lady Arianna Hadley’s desire to discover her disgraced father’s murderer has brought her back to London from exile in the Caribbean. Masquerading as a male chef, she is working in one of London’s aristocratic households in order to get close to her main suspect. But when the Prince Regent is taken ill after consuming Arianna’s special chocolate dessert, she unexpectedly finds herself at the center of a dangerous scandal.

Because of his expertise in chocolate, the eccentric Earl of Saybrook, a former military intelligence officer, is asked by the top brass at Horse Guards to investigate the suspected poisoning. But during his first interrogation of Arianna, someone tries to assassinate both of them, and it quickly becomes clear that something very sinister is afoot within the highest circles of government. They each have very different reasons for wanting to uncover the truth, yet to have any chance of doing so they must become allies.

Trust. Treachery. Arianna must assume yet another identity as their search takes them from the glittering ballrooms of Mayfair to the slums of St. Giles. And their reluctant alliance is tested in more ways that one as it becomes clear that someone is looking to plunge England into chaos . . .

Like Mary Jo, I’ve been getting a lot of questions about moving into a new genre. One of the first things my friends asked was what’s the difference between writing a mystery and writing a romance. It’s something that I thought about a lot as I started on the project. Pamela Regis, author of the A Natural History of the Romance Novel, describes a romance as a story of courtship ending in betrothal. So, by its nature, the primary focus is the relationship between two people—traditionally the hero and the heroine—and the story revolves around how, and why, they come to fall in love. Their characters are developed and defined mainly by their interaction with each other. And these days, that interaction often includes explicit sexual scenes. (Please remember my earlier comment about publishing being complicated . . .)

A mystery, as the name implies, revolves more around the actual plot. A conundrum is presented to the reader, and the story is all about solving it. While romance tropes call for a HEA (Happily Ever After) mystery tropes revolve around the notion of justice—that in the end, the villain gets his just desserts. Put more simplistically, it’s about good stopping evil from running amuck—though sometimes the ending can be more ambiguous than it is in romance.

So I explained to my friends that in a mystery, characters tend to grow and change through their interaction with the problem they are trying to solve, rather than solely through their dealings with each other. Tension and conflict often come from the moral choices that confront them. That said, there are often intense relationships between characters in a mystery, and they definitely help shape one another. It’s more a question of nuance and degree. Yes, things get very personal, but the problem—ie, the mystery—is always that third presence, however shadowy, in the scene. The characters cannot react to each other’s actions and thoughts without seeing them through the prism of the problem. As for sex, unless it is an integral part of the plot, the bedroom door tends to stay shut.

When I sat down to start work on Sweet Revenge, I thought a lot about how I wanted to develop my hero and heroine within these new parameters. For me, the chance to explore the nuances of character and motivation is one of the core reasons why I write. I find it infinitely challenging to try to create textured, layered people who have the same conflicts and contradictions as real life individuals do, and then put them in situation where they have to conquer her own weaknesses and doubts to triumph.

As a romance writer, I love drawing two disparate people together. But I’ve also tended to have mystery/adventure elements in my plots because I’ve always loved the the layers of tension and twists in a well-crafted plot. So I wondered if somehow I could strike a happy balance between the two. We'll see what the critics think! It’s always a little frightening—and at the same time exhilarating—to try sometime new. But as spring unfurls in all its glorious colors, the season reminds us that it’s good to spread new roots and lift fresh branches toward the sun. Growth keeps us vital!

What about you—do you enjoy reading across genres? Have you a favorite one? Have you tried any new categories lately? I make my first foray into steampunk recently and really enjoyed it. And while we’re on the subject of styles, what do you think about explicit sex in books? 

I'll be giving away a copy of Sweet Revenge to one reader who leaves a comment here between now and Sunday, so be sure to chime in!

Welcome Karen Harper & The Irish Princess

Just in time for Saint Patrick's Day, we have an Irish treat for historical fiction fans! The Wenches are pleased to welcome back the amazing Karen Harper, whose newest historical fiction release, THE IRISH PRINCESS, is now out in trade paperback from NAL. Deeply researched and as fascinating as all of Karen's books, this tale of Irishwoman Elizabeth Fitzgerald and Queen Elizabeth I's court is, according to Publishers Weekly, a "skillfully fleshed-out tale of an adventurous young woman coming-of-age inside a court constantly on edge."

 Here's what Karen has to say about THE IRISH PRINCESS:   
 
It was partly a trip to Ireland and partly my stumbling on an intriguing woman while I was researching another book that pointed my way to my latest Tudor-era historical novel, THE IRISH PRINCESS.  My husband and I had a wonderful trip to Ireland several years ago.  Although I am an Anglophile at heart and am a product of English and Scottish heritage (I even did Scottish Highland Dancing for years), I fell in love with Ireland and the Irish.
 
Of course we did all the usual stops:  kissed the Blarney stone—all authors are, of necessity, full of blarney.  We visited Cardiff Castle, did the Ring of Kerry, and
toured old Dublin town where I walked into a bookstore that actually carried my books.  But at that time, although I looked for an Irish heroine as a hook for a book, I didn’t find one.
 
But later when I was researching Queen Elizabeth I’s ladies-in-waiting for THE QUEEN’S GOVERNESS, I stumbled on the fact she had a long-time Irish friend, a celebrated beauty, at that.  The poet Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, had written a poem extolling ‘the Fair Geraldine,’ a woman named Elizabeth (nickname Gera) Fitzgerald, whose family had been called “the uncrowned kings of Ireland” and had been brutally ruined by King Henry VIII.
 
What gives, I thought.  Elizabeth Tudor mistrusted the Irish.  Beautiful women around her (and another redhead!) always made her nervous.  Was this another example of the unspoken Tudor practice that, if a powerful family threatens your throne, kill off the men and keep the women close so you can keep an eye on them?
 
But then I found what I call “a telling detail” about the these two Elizabeths.  The queen once sent Gera Fitzgerald to the Tower for ‘plainspeaking to the queen.’  Yet Gera was released almost immediately and was back in the queen’s good graces.  Stranger yet, at least once, Gera commanded a ship which captured pirates who were taking French ships and giving the queen a bad name.
 
Aha, I had to write a book about this Irish woman, the “uncrowned princess of Ireland.”  What a dynamic woman she must have been.  And to top it off, I found she had a bittersweet romance (yes, with a happy ending, a sine qua non for me) with a dashing, swashbuckling English hero, Edward Clinton, the Lord High Admiral of the English Navy.  Look out Johnny Depp!
 
But research wasn’t easy.  I had to “find” Gera in books about other people.  With the exception of her once hated rival and later longtime friend Elizabeth Tudor, I discovered Gera’s story through reading about the men whose lives she touched:  her husband, her father and her brother whose rebellion brought the wrath of the Tudors down on her family and Ireland.
 
Of course, I’m writing faction, basing the book on fact but fictionalizing what I cannot find.  But I believe I stayed true to the real woman, and I was pleased to see that Gera’s defiant face on the cover of THE IRISH PRINCESS is very close to her extant portraits.  Please check out more about Elizabeth Fitzgerald, the Irish Princess on my website www.KarenHarperAuthor.com.  And happy historical reading!

Thank you, Karen -- and best of luck with THE IRISH PRINCESS. (The Wenches love the term "faction," btw!) Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all! 

** Karen is giving away a copy of THE IRISH PRINCESS to a winner chosen at random from among those who leave comments! Be sure to post to this blog -- you'll be entered to win!

 

 

How Far the Candle

Joanna here, talking about light, and how folks avoided being the thing that went bump in the night and banged its shins in 1800 or so.

"How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world."  William Shakespeare

For the most part, people took the low tech approach.  Daily life followed the sun.  Country folk got up with the chickens, not just because the chickens were making an almighty determined racket, but because there was a day of work to get to.  Every hour the family stayed awake past sunset cost money.   

They made good use of the daylight while they had it.  The well-to-do had tall  windows in their houses, the better to invite the sunlight inside.  Even the stables had windows. In 1800, if you wanted to shell peas or sew some fine embroidery, you'd take it to the windowseat or go sit on the doorstep of the cottage. 

The hero is apt to find the heroine reading a letter on the garden bench because that's where the light's good. 

"When Thomas Edison worked late into the night on the electric light, he had to do it by gas lamp or candle. I'm sure it made the work seem that much more urgent. "
George Carlin

When you didn't have free light from the sky, or didn't have enough of it, you made your own.

The oldest form of lighting known to man is probably collecting a stick of something that burns reliably and poking it into the fire till it catches and then walking around with it till, ouch, it singes the fingers.  The final flowering of this line of thought is the rushlight and the torch.

A rushlight -- sometimes the name says it all -- is made from a rush.  That's a tall weed that grows in marshy places, with which the British Isles are plentifully supplied.   Women and children collected rushes in the summer, peeled off all but a thin layer of the tough green skin.  The pith was long and thin.  Think reeeealy thick spaghetti about two feet long.  This was hung up in bunches, dried, and then drawn through melted  fat.  You can see the dilemma for a poor family here.  They can eat that fat or they can burn it for light.  If you stayed up late chewing the fat, you were also burning it.

"It is not economical to go to bed early to save candles if the result is twins."
Chinese proverb

A typical rush light would burn maybe a quarter hour to as long as an hour.  The rush went into the jaw of a split piece of wood or a metal holder that held it at an angle so it wouldn't burn up all at once.

Rushlight was the poor man's candle -- it gave off about the same amount of light as a candle -- and the rushlight was made even more attractive because candles were taxed in England between 1709 and 1831.  Candlemaking required a license.  That's why your Regency heroine messes about making perfumes, cosmetics, herbal remedies for the poor and maybe some potent cherry cordial, but does not make interestingly scented candles.

Moving along to the other primitive light source -- torches.  A torch is a stick with something at the end that burns . . . not too fast and not too slow.  Pitch is the traditional torch fuel. 

Your Georgian and Regency folks would most often encounter the torches carried by linkboys as they made their way home from the theatre or a party.   According to Samuel Pepys, “links were torches of tow or pitch to light the way.”  Linkboys were men and boys who, for a farthing, ran in front of the carriage, or accompanied sedan chairs and those on foot, to light the road ahead.  In thieves' cant a linkboy was called a "moon-curser" because they didn't find work on moonlit nights.

 Here's a Georgian link extinguisher on the side of the house for the linkboy to douse his glim and save the torch till the next customer.

The other old form of lighting is the oil lamp.  In its simplest form, an oil lamp needs only three elements -- the liquid oil, the wick and the fire.  It's nice if you can add a glass chimney around the fire to keep the flame steady and to keep it from blowing out.  On the other hand, open lamps lit everything from caves to igloos . . . (Igli?) . . . for millennia before glass chimneys.  Long after 1800, primitive crofts in the hills and fishers' huts by the sea might still have an oil lamp on the table that would have been at home in Babylon.

I experimented with primitive oil lamps technology as I was sitting down to write.  I poured olive oil into a dish -- actually a big ole' spoon rest -- and cut a shoelace for a wick and laid it in to soak up the oil.  My 'lamp' burned pretty durn well, with a fine, steady, smokeless yellow light.  I don't know how long it would have continued to burn.  (I was pleased to get it started at all.)  The oil didn't smoke or smell in the slightest.

What's technically interesting about the whole 'oil lamps' thing, is that the wick doesn't burn.  What the wick does is 'wick up' the burnable oil toward the fire.  The fire drinks it off and more oil gets pulled up but the flame burns 'on top' of the wick.  Little, if any, of the wick is consumed.
 
Oil lamps lit the streets of London.  Lamplighters made their rounds, cleaned the glass, trimmed the wick, and refilled the reservoir.  Oil lamps stood at the mouths of harbors to mark the entry to safety.  Oil lamps went underground with the miners.

 

 

 

 The snazziest oil lamp of the Regency period was the Argand -- above and to the left.  This was the space-age technology of the Regency.  It was patented in 1780 and would  have been  a familiar sight in the study of every Regency gentleman.  The oil resevoir is there in the middle and fed down to the lamp.  It had a tubular wick, so it must have produced a round circle of flame, I should think.

"With darkness diminished, the opportunities for privacy and reflection are lessened."
Ekirch

And we come to candles, candles candles -- the go-to choice for carrying upstairs at that country houseparty the heroine is attending.  She picks a candleholder from the table at the bottom of the stairs, lights herself up from the central candle there, and heads off through the long, dark, chilly halls . . . doubtless with the hero sneaking along behind in the Stygean gloom, taking an interest.

Authorial Real Life Tidbit here.  When I was in the upcountry in Africa, some places didn't have any electricity.  When night falls in a land without electricity, it gets DARK.  Walking about a village from house to house I was perfectly willing to believe in hobgoblins, will-o'-the-wisps, boggarts, trolls, witches, nightsneaks, ghoulies, ghosties, long-legged beasties and werewolves.  Dark is scary.

"Let the night teach us what we are, and the day what we should be."
Thomas Tryon, 1691

Ok.  Back to candles.
Candles use the same wicking principle as a lamp.  The wick can slurp up only the fuel that's melted at the top in the upper cup of the candle.  The whole 'puddle of melted wax' situation at the top of a candle is an integral part of its operation, which will certainly make me more understanding next time I have to clean drops of wax out of the carpet.

It was 'one fuel for the rich, another for the poor'.  Beeswax for the parlor; tallow candles in the kitchen.  Tallow candles apparently did not fill the air with a pleasant aroma.  To add insult to injury, beeswax candles burned 30% brighter than tallow.

Let me quote a modern source experimenting with historical candle lighting:
"I had expected the wax candles to smoke and smell more than they did, in line with a number of contemporary references. . . .  a second batch of tallow candles . . . as unrefined as possible, just animal suet in effect, . . . still failed to create a smelly fug.
Martin White

Candles were expensive -- remember the tax?  To light the night with beeswax candles was a statement of wealth.  There was nothing democratic about candlelight.  In Georgian and Regency England it was the province of the wealthy and the growing middle class.   

For those who had to venture out into the night, the lantern was the flashlight of its day.  It could hold oil, but was more frequently a candle affair.  There'd be glass or horn on the four sides to keep it from blowing out.  Others were made of metal where one side opened to show the road ahead.  These 'dark lanterns' were discreet, of course, but they were not solely used to be secretive.  The dark lantern had the advantage of sturdiness -- no glass to break -- and cheapness in a time when glass was expensive.

A single light in a dwelling place, like a single source of heat from the fire, meant that everybody gathered round sociably.  Or not so sociably, depending upon the family.  There was an enforced togetherness in a time when candles were not made to be wasted, rooms were not lit without a good reason, and the bedside taper was extinguished at once to lessen the chance of fire.

"One 60-watt electric bulb generates the light of approximately 60 candles."
Rumor

Candles often had a reflective surface behind them to double the illumination in a thrifty way.   Folks would place them next to mirrors.

 

And there were  'lacemakers lamps' -- used for fine work during the day -- concentrated light by focusing it through a globe filled with water. 

Pepys writes of something that may be similar.  ". . . and so home to my office, and there came Mr. Cocker, and brought me a globe of glasse, and a frame of oyled paper, as I desired, to show me the manner of his gaining light to grave [note -- engrave] by, and to lessen the glaringnesse of it at pleasure by an oyled paper. This I bought of him, giving him a crowne for it; and so, well satisfied, he went away, and I to my business again, and so home to supper, prayers, and to bed."

"I shall make electricity so cheap that only the rich can afford to burn candles."  Edison

[lantern is from the Met, here.  open oil lamp cc attrib surajramk]

 

How do you feel about night?  Aside from the obvious, what do you want your hero and heroine to get up to at night?

 

One lucky commenter will win a copy of The Forbidden Rose, or Spymaster's Lady trade edition, your choice.

Guests, Winners, and HWWs

GUEST - KAREN HARPER

Guest Karen Harper will be returning on Wednesday, March 16, hosted by Wench Susan.  Karen is a prolific writer and her books run the gamut from historical to contemporary, and from Amish to Irish!  Please join us this Wednesday and find out what's the latest in Karen's life.

 

WINNERS

We have a whole new crop of winners since our last announcement.  Iva Steele won a book from Nicola Cornick and Danielle Gorman won a book from Cara Elliott.  Jeanne Sheats scored a book from Jo Beverley.  Cynthia Owens was the winner of a book from Anne Gracie.  Guest Christina Courtenay awarded a book to Tara Chevrestt.  And last but not least, Kate McAuliffe won a book from Mary Jo's alter ego, M.J. Putney.  Congratulations, winners! 

This has been an exciting month for several Honorary Word Wenches (and one Honorary Word Wizard!).  Read on for the latest in HWW news:

DOUGIE MACLEAN

HWW (Wizard category):  Wenchly congratulations go to Scottish singer/songwriter Dougie MacLean, who was recently granted an OBE. The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire is an order of chivalry established on 4 June 1917 by George V of the United Kingdom.  Dougie, who says he was "gobsmacked" to receive such an honor, has a brand new CD, "Resolution," available now. (Photo credit:  Irene Young)

ELIZABETH CHADWICK

Congratulations to Honorary Word Wench Elizabeth Chadwick, who visited us last year to talk about her medieval historical novels. To Defy A King was short listed for the RNA (Romantic Novelists Association) Romantic Novel of the Year, and won the Best Historical Novel award. Isn't that splendid?  You can read about the awards here.  Visit Elizabeth's Web site here.  You can also view the book trailer for To Defy a King here.

 

LOUISE ALLEN

At our request, Louise Allen sent us the following regarding her RNA win:  "I was delighted, and very honoured, when The Piratical Miss Ravenhurst (The Mutinous Miss Ravenhurst in Australia/New Zealand) was shortlisted for the Love Story of the Year Award because it is one of my favourite books and I have to admit to being rather fond of Nathan Stanier, the hero. Winning was a complete shock and an absolute thrill - so much so that I didn't even notice that they were playing the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean while I was going up to collect the trophy!
 
"I had wanted to do a pirate book for some time, but not with a dashing pirate hero. I have always suspected that pirates were just as nasty, brutal, unwashed and unglamorous as the average highwayman - and I speak as someone with two hanged highwaymen in her ancestry. I set out to make these pirates as unpleasant as I imagined they were in reality. Captain Red Matthew Tiernan is named for his love of blood, not the colour of his hair, and when he hoists the skull and crossbones they are the real thing, not a flag.

"My heroine, Clemence Ravenhurst, finds herself bundled on board the Sea Scorpion in Kingston, Jamaica and all that stands between her and a very unpleasant end is the enigmatic navigator, Nathan Stanier. I named Clemence because I wanted a name that could be shortened to a boy's name and I thought it was unusual. About half-way through the writing I found an early 19thc fan in an antiques auction and bought it, virtually unchecked, for a song. When I was able to examine it I found that it was French, printed with the picture of a "love lottery" with fat little cherubs drawing lots for love for six young women. Each receives a verse describing the virtues their true love will have. One girl will have no love, another a man with only one virtue, another has a lover with two virtues, right up to the sixth, who will meet a man with the "fivefold virtues. And her name was Clèmence. I couldn't believe the coincidence. Of course, after that, Nathan has to buy Clemence the fan in the book!
 
Congratulations to everyone, shortlisted and winners, of the Pure Passion Awards."

Kudos to our winners and HWWs from the Word Wenches!  Late breaking news:  Jo Beverley sent this picture of the RNA winners.  Congrats to all!

Playing with nature

Anne here, taking a slight detour away from history for the moment and into the realm of contemporary art, specifically sculpture. Nicola's blog on Wednesday, where she mentioned standing stones, got me thinking about one of my favorite artists — certainly my favorite living artist, Andy Goldsworthy.

Andy Goldsworthy is an artist from the UK, but he's worked in countries all over the world, creating artworks both timeless and ephemeral. I discovered him in the 1990's, by accident, while browsing through books in a bookshop, waiting for a friend. I bought that first book, and I've bought a number of his books since, and still prize them. They make wonderful gifts, too. I've never found anyone who his work didn't speak to, no matter what their cultural or educational background.

One definition of an artist is someone who shows us familiar things in an unfamiliar way. Andy Goldsworthy certainly does that.  For me, there's a childlike wonder in his work. He shows us nature as we never experience it, yet his art draws us closer to nature.

A reviewer in The Smithsonian said: "A new kind of poetry is created when Andy Goldsworthy works with stone, wood and water — our world never looks quite the same again" ~ "Searching for the window into nature's soul", Smithsonian magazine (February 1997)

He works mainly in the open air, in all kinds of weather, creating art from the materials he finds around him. He's made sculptures on the North Pole in freezing conditions, and in the desert in baking heat.

He doesn't use any of the normal tools of a sculptor — no chisels or hammers or glue or anything like that — he creates from the environment, using what the landscape provides, so he might sew leaves  together with thorns, or wrap rocks in autumn leaves, or use his spit in freezing temperatures to hold together confections of ice, or join reeds with thorns to make a delicate screen, like the one in this picture. He also stacks rocks in wonderful ways, using dry stone wall techniques, among others.  He's made cairns like the one above all over the world. There's even one in my home town of Melbourne. I must confess, I really love dry stone walls and cairns.

He said: "I enjoy the freedom of just using my hands and "found" tools--a sharp stone, the quill of a feather, thorns. I take the opportunities each day offers: if it is snowing, I work with snow, at leaf-fall it will be with leaves; a blown-over tree becomes a source of twigs and branches. I stop at a place or pick up a material because I feel that there is something to be discovered. Here is where I can learn." 

I've watched videos of him creating his sculptures and it's so impressive. He's amazingly patient, and his works are frequently spoiled at the last minute, by a breeze, a wave, an animal or by gravity, and yet he never seems to lose his cool. He just starts again.

Many of his works of art only last a few hours or a few days. Snow melts, leaves wither, tides sweep sand constrictions away. Other of his works will last for many years, but they are not always kept in art galleries or museums — many stand out in the wind and the rain and the hot sun.

Luckily for the ordinary person, he takes photos of his work and sells the best of them in books. (All of the photos on this blog were taken by Andy Goldsworthy.)

Sometimes puts a note about the work in the book with the photo. Some read like short poems. 

Iris blades pinned together with thorns
filled in five sections with rowan berries
fish attacking from below
difficult to keep all the berries in
nibbled at by ducks

 

Rowan leaves laid around a hole  
collecting the last few leaves
nearly finished
dog ran into hole
started again
made in the shade on a windy, sunny day

A portfolio of his work is listed at this website.

There's a rather beautiful video of Andy Goldsworthy and his work here. I hope you find it as fascinating as I do.

So, tell me, what do you think? Do you like them or not? Is there a piece of art or sculpture that really speaks to you? Or would you rather stay home with a good book? 

*Anne coming in after the post above was posted, to say how horrified I am about the news coming out of Japan. My thoughts are with the Japanese people at this terrible time.

Gardens of Pleasure

Hello, Nicola here! I enjoy reading about garden history and a couple of weeks ago I went on a research trip deep into the Wiltshire countryside to visit some pleasure gardens created in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century at Old Wardour. The centrepiece of the Old Wardour gardens is... a genuine, ruined medieval castle. That's quite something to incorporate into your garden design.

The Castle

Old Wardour Castle was originally built in the late 15th century and served as an impressive family home for 250 years before it was partially destroyed during a siege in the English Civil War in the mid 16th century. The Royalist forces attacked the castle to take it back from the Parliamentarian troops and set gunpowder mines in the tunnels leading to the cellars and latrines. The intention was to set off a small explosion to frighten the garrison into surrendering but unfortunately someone dropped a lighted match into the barrels of gunpowder that were being stored in the tunnels (a real oops moment!) and the subsequent underground explosion was so huge that two of the turrets collapsed bringing down the roof and much of the upper floors. What followed would have been farcical had it not involved a fight to the death. The Roundhead commander, Edmund Ludlow, had been lying late in bed and woke up to find his bedroom wall missing and the King's troops clambering over the ruins to attack. He shouted for help and his own garrison tried to climb into the room from the other side but they were using too short a ladder to reach him. Ludlow was running backwards and forwards  across the room, trying to beat off the attackers on the one hand and pull the rescuers up the ladder at the same time. It couldn't end well - eventually he was captured and the castle fell to the Royalists but by then it was a ruin. That was a slight digression to explain how the castle came to be a ruined "folly" in the gardens!

  The Ruin

The Arundell family who owned Old Wardour built themselves a new house nearby (New Wardour, of course) and the old castle was left as a ruin until the end of the eighteenth century when the eighth Lord Arundell began to develop the landscape as a pleasure ground. Ruins were very popular in the Picturesque landscape of the period. They were a romantic reminder of the world of chivalry and a place where the natural world could run wild. The ruined medieval castle thus became the focal point of a fashionably romantic landscape! Today the castle ruins have been made safe to explore. Here I am on the staircase to the Great Hall.

The Grotto and Stone Circle

A ruined castle, whilst quite a coup, was not sufficient to make up an entire Picturesque landscape so Lord Arundell added a grotto and a stone circle to his pleasure grounds. The grotto was built from the fallen stone of the castle. It is rather charming and very wet, with water piped in deliberately to drip from the roof onto the fossils and ferns below. The purpose of the grotto was to provide an example of "nature unchanged by man"!

The story of the creation of the stone circle did cause me to wince a little since it involved the moving of a genuine 4,000 year old stone circle from a nearby village. This was set up at the end of a yew-lined terrace and a couple of rustic alcoves were built alongside it using stone and plaster from the medieval castle. Here one could sit and shudder fashionably at the thought of prehistoric barbarism!

The Banqueting House

The final touch was a mock-Gothic banqueting house built as a special place for the Arundells to entertain their guests. Here is my picture of the interior. It has a coloured marble fireplace and beautiful stained glass windows and these days it has a licence for weddings. Ever practical, even in a "wilderness", Lord Arundell had a three seater "necessary house" as it was called built with similar Gothic detail to the Banqueting Hall. This was particularly interesting as I didn't realise that visiting the necessary house was a communal procedure in this period. I don't have a photo of it, I'm afraid - it was too dark in there!

By the 1830s the pleasure grounds at Old Wardour were open to the public and the Banqueting House had become a refreshment room with an attendant serving afternoon teas.

As it says in the modern day visitor brochure, the landscaped pleasure grounds contained all the necessary elements of the fashionable Romantic Landscape. Here one could contemplate the frailty of human life and the futility of human endeavour that would one day be overcome by wild nature - before enjoying a cup of tea in the Banqueting House and a visit to the "Necessary Room" and going home for dinner!

We may not all be able to site a ruined castle in our back yards, but in my back garden I have two very small contributions to the Picturesque Landscape, my standing stone and my ladybird. What sort of picturesque or romantic element do you have in your garden, back yard or window box?

Tobacco

Here are Charlie and Billy with my recent books, but I'm going to be writing about somethng connected to my MIP. (A wonderfully all-encompassing term. Manuscript, masterpiece, monster-in-progress.) It illustrates the little problems that can trip us up on the way, but I'm also hoping that by some wild chance, someone reading this can help.

I enjoy gardening, and what's more, I'll soon have a garden to play with. We take possession of our ne house tomorrow. Yay! We won't move in until some work's been done, but the garden will need care, and it's only a 15 min. walk from our rental.

That's not relevant to the MIP except that when I'm writing, plants automatically fill in my vision of countryside and gardens, but they sometimes trip me up.

For example, in An Unlikely Countess, Cate's brother collected exotic trees, a popular hobby in the 18th century. Among a few others, I tossed in a weeping willow, liking its connection to mourning. I think that's a weeping willow in the picture. It's gorgeous, anyway, and that's Buckingham Palace behind. (You can click on any picture to enlarge it.)

I thought I'd check how new the willow was at the time.... Whoops! It had only just begun to be imported, and specimens were regularly failing in the south of England, never mind the north!

I made lemonade out of lemons, however, and made it a dying weeping willow. How very metaphorical or something.

In the MIP, A Scandalous Countess, I wanted a plant that gives out a perfume in the evening, and the obvious choice was nicotiana, or flowering tobacco. If you've never grown it, give it a try, and if you have the space, go for the tall, leggy sort.  It's not pretty, but my goodness, the perfume in the evening is gorgeous.

That's what I had in mind, and from there I got a nice little word play between Georgia and Tom about tobacco, pleasures denied ladies, and other matters. But I asked myself, was flowering tobacco known at the time? And I can't find out. I found a gardener's dictionary from 1754 in Googlebooks that describes a number of nicotianas, some of them sounding like the one I mean, but no mention of perfume.

I was intrigued, even bemused, by this bit. "The two smaller Sorts of Tobacco are preserved in Botanic Gardens for Variety ; but are seldom propagated for Use. The first Sort is found growing upon Dunghills in divers Parts of England. These are both very hardy, and may be propagated by sowing their Seeds in March, upon a Bed of light Earth, where they will come up, and may be transplanted into any Part of the Garden.

The first of these Sorts is the most common in England, and is generally raised by the Gardeners near London, who supply the Markets with Pots of Plants to adorn Balconies and Shop windows in the City. This Sort, when raised early in the Spring, and planted in a rich Soil, will grow to the Height of ten or twelve Feet, provided the Plants are duly watered in dry Weather."

Ten or twelve feet! On balconies and in shop windows? I'm having trouble forming the picture, but I'd like one of those plants as a show-off specimen!

Talking of showing off, here's another lovely bird photograph by my husband.

There are many articles about tobacco, but I've found nothing about the introduction of the ornamental sort, in my books or on line. My gut feel is that the leggy, perfumed kind did arrive early, but it'd be great to know. If anyone can come up with something definite, I'll acknowledge it in the book. Out next February.

Adding this, supplied by a reader on my yahoo chat list. "A native of Brazil, Flowering Tobacco was introduced into garden cultivation in England in 1829."

There's no source, so as it's not what I want to hear, I'm still looking. After all, a plant collector could have had some earlier, couldn't they?

If you haven't bought your copy of An Unlikely Countess yet, hurry, hurry, hurry! I'm delighted by the reviews. Readers seem to really be enjoying Cate and Prudence, and many have also picked up on the way it touches on the roles of women at all levels of society in the 18th century. I didn't plan that, but I think it is interesting.

If you're having any trouble finding it, in print or e-form, I've put together a page of suggestions. What a complicated world we live in! 

All best wishes from sunny Devon,

Jo

 

 

 

The Madness of Men

Sir Isaac Newton once said: "I can calculate the movement of the stars, but not the madness of men.”

Well, under this context, I’m sure Newton was being sexist and women were equally mad…but that’s not my premise. Today, I simply wanted to point out what happens when people don’t study their history.  The result of ignorance might look like madness…

Sir Isaac didn’t have a lot of historical examples to follow when he invested twenty-thousand pounds in what became known as the South Sea Bubble, unless one counts Tulipmania.  Many economists consider Tulipmania—when fortunes were lost on the price of a simple tulip bulb—more akin to commodity speculation. That’s what’s happening with oil prices now, and if consumers would simply quit buying oil and gas, those commodity traders would crash like a house of cards, just as the tulip traders did. There’s a historical example I’d like to see us follow—quit paying stupid prices for worthless product. Gold is the same. You can’t eat it, you can’t live in it, and it’s value depends entirely on what you’re willing to pay.

But “bubbles” are something else and what we just recently experienced with the housing market. Anyone with any amount of economics or history background could have predicted that what goes up, must come down. Did everyone truly believe that housing prices would never come down? Why?  The South Sea Bubble, and the French version— the Mississippi Bubble, showed us what happens  to people who believe what they’re told without proof, and that’s what happened to us. People were almost literally sold hot air.

Of course, the details of any economic disaster are far more complicated than moral lessons about education, but understanding what has happened in the past enables us to turn a more skeptical eye on grandiose promises. In both the English and French bubbles of the early 1700s, wheeler-dealers made grandiose promises of wealth. They rapidly drove up stock prices on excitement and speculation without returning a dime in income. (The ploy didn’t begin or end in the 1700s but those economic bubbles were so huge and devastating that they they’ve become symbols of the public’s gullibility.)

Any good snake oil salesman knows the tactic:  Buy shares in our trading company! Buy shares in our bank! You’ll be rich as a lord, we promise. And because the general public believed these important personages, their noble leaders, the general public got ripped off to the tune of millions of pounds/francs, leading to bankruptcies, suicides, and penniless widows and orphaned children. The lessons are numerous but I’d boil them down to, if you’re going to gamble, buy a lottery ticket. It’s cheaper and easier to comprehend. If you want to make an investment, then understand what you’re investing in, what it will cost you, and how you will make a return. Most of the people now caught in foreclosure didn’t even realize that capital investments like houses require more money to maintain them over the long run. Education is required even to buy a home.

Historically, people are always more willing to listen to their leaders, whether they’re polilticians or aristocrats or simply wealthy. Psychologically, I assume that’s because people are too willing to believe that those in a position of power must know more than the average person—until disaster hits, the gap between rich and poor widens, or a whistle-blower reveals all.  So the bank says we’re able to pay a $2000 a month mortgage—they must know what they’re talking about, let’s buy it! And practically speaking (if I must), people just don’t have time to educate themselves on every single subject. They have to rely on those they believe know better.

I guess when I was young, I read way too much history to believe everything I’m told. I cut my baby teeth on the likes of Theodore Dreiser and Ayn Rand.  I was poor and I armed myself with knowledge (and laughed myself silly over Rand’s grandiose posturing—did she really believe that poor people had the money to buy quality instead of cheap? Common sense required!). 

What books did you read in your youth that armed you for today’s world? What ones would you recommend to the generation growing up now? Is there an easier way to teach our children how to think for themselves?

(and I apologize for the lack of images--I've been visiting with the grandkid and buying a house and my world is just a little crazed at the moment!)

M. J. Putney: Introduction of an Alter Ego

by Mary Jo, aka M. J. Putney

March 21st will be the 25th anniversary of starting my first book, which was published 18 months later as The Diabolical Baron.  It’s time to reinvent myself again. <G>  Hence Dark Mirror, my first young adult paranormal historical, which hit the stores yesterday. 

I’ve always written romance, almost always historical, though some contemporaries and historical fantasy crept in.  But YA is a new country, a new genre with new rules.  Though history and romance are still present. <G>

(Note: I am NOT giving up historical romance!  The Bargain will be reissued in April, and Nowhere Near Respectable, the third Lost Lords book, will be out in May, and I’m about to start book 4.)

Dark Mirror is a young adult novel with history, adventure, magic, and a dash of romance.  (Of course romance!)  I’m getting a lot of questions about the difference in writing between romance and YA.

The answer is reader expectations.  Different genres have different core stories.  Epic fantasy is the struggle between good and evil.  Mysteries are about justice. 

For romance, the core is the courtship story of the developing relationship, while the heart of a YA novel is the growth and life journey of the protagonist.  (Though lots of other things can be added to those core stories, of course.  Romance is found as a subplot in all genres.) 

But while the core stories for YA and romance are different, good storytelling is good storytelling.  That’s the foundation of all popular fiction,

So why YA?  I love combining history, romance, and magic, and I wrote several adult books of that ilk. But on the whole, historical romance readers prefer to get their fantasy reading kick from the setting, which is why lords and ladies and Cinderella stories are so popular.  When I changed publishers several years ago, I found that all the editors we talked to wanted me to write straight historical romance without woo-woo elements. 

That was okay—obviously I like writing lords and ladies and Cinderella stories, or I wouldn’t have written so many of them. <G> But I still wanted to write magic!

In particular, I wanted to write a story that connected the Napoleonic period and World War II, because I’ve always been intrigued by the similarities in these two eras.  In both cases. England stood alone against a powerful Continental conqueror, protected by the English Channel, the British Navy, and the stubborn courage of her people. 

From there, it was a short hop to thinking that Regency mages would be drawn to a similar time period where their abilities were be needed.  I had the story idea for Dark Mirror in mind for quite a while before my Del Rey fantasy editor said rather casually that it would work well in YA. 

Bingo!  The heavens opened and the trumpets sounded!  I’d never considered writing YA, even though I’ve read it for years, but I immediately knew that this story should be written as YA. 

DM takes place in a Regency world where magic exists but is disdained by the nobility.  My heroine, sixteen year old Lady Victoria Mansfield, performs an act of heroism that condemns her to the dread Lackland Abbey, where well-born children are “cured” of their magical afflictions. 

Tory chooses to cast her lot with those students who study magic in secret in the chalk tunnels below the Abbey.  One of them is Allarde, the handsome, enigmatic heir to a dukedom.  When a magical artifact draws her through time to a war torn 1940 Britain, she wants nothing more than to return home.  But duty calls, and she and her friends must use their magical abilities to help save their nation from disaster at Dunkirk. 

Mega research!  Especially on the 1940 section of the book, which is within living memory.  But there is nothing like stepping off a creative cliff to get the juices flowing.  <G> 

At least three books will be set in this world.  The YAs will be published under the name of M. J. Putney to indicate that they’re a different kind of book.  (Though you who have long memories may recall I did one historical romantic fantasy, Stolen Magic, under my initials before returning to my full name.)

This is a rather scary leap for me because the YA market and distribution are quite different from adult popular fiction.  Plus—could I fake a young adult voice?  I wasn’t a very good teenager even when I was one!  On the plus side, the readers are wonderfully enthusiastic, and there is a tremendous freedom in YA storytelling.

Besides, I had a story I wanted to tell.  <G>  I’m grateful that so far, the reviews have been very good.  Even from the teenagers. 

Here are a few of the reviews.  I particularly liked the first because it says what I hope and believe: that a fair number of my adult readers will enjoy Tory’s story.

“An amazing young adult novel from an established romance author! Mary Jo Putney’s adult readers will delight in her latest offering.”
 Leah, YoungAdultRomanceWriters.com

“One of the best stories I've ever read that mixes history, magic, and time travel.”
 Angel, 15 years old, from the teen advisory board of New Albany-Floyd County Library in Indiana.  5 star rating.

 “Absolutely riveting, Putney creates a vivid historical fantasy and delivers a page-turning read.  The plot builds slowly and deliberately and then suddenly you're got magic-wielding, time-traveling teens in WWII England, as Putney gives us a magical explanation for an incredible historical event.”
    Raven Heller, 4 1/2 stars, Romantic Times Bookclub

Since I am new to the YA genre, St. Martin’s Press wanted to release the first books close together.  Book 2, Dark Passage, is scheduled for September 2011, and the third book, not yet written, will be published some time in 2012.  (You can see why I’ve been so busy!)  There will also be a free downloadable short story, a sort of prequel, that will be available soon online.  It’s called “Fallen From Grace.” 

I have a basic website up at mjputney.com , and also a Facebook page, though I don’t pay as much attention to the sites as I should.  I can write more stories, or have a great online presence.  Not both unless I figure out how to clone myself. Triplets would be about right.  <G>

If the story interests you, or you know a young reader who might be enjoy Tory and her adventures, I hope you’ll give it a try.  Leave a comment between now and Friday midnight and you may win a signed copy of Dark Mirror from me.  So tell me what you think about this latest reinvention!

Mary Jo, aka M. J.