Word Wenches

Old, Outdated, Antique & Juicy

Lately we've had a lingering flu in our house, with one or another of us requiring tea, soup, quilts and endless tissues, tucked in with comfort reads (or doses of mindless tv) in between long naps. Despite my fluey state, I have research to do and progress to make, though I haven't had much energy for library research or drilling down through online sources. So I went to my bookshelves to find something to further the current project -- and reacquainted myself with the sort of research that I love most: browsing and wool-gathering among old books. The older the better -- the more outdated the source, the more biased, opinionated and wordy the historian, the more fanciful and unreliable and even ludicrous the history, the happier I am. 

I spent years in academia, where the oldest sources are revered alongside the newest, but when every statement needs to be backed up by proof, not to mention exhaustively footnoted, the oldest sources aren't always the best. A gossipy old Victorian history can be an unreliable and risky source for an academic, but for a fiction writer, that same overblown tome could be a gold mine. I've found more juicy tidbits of facts and ideas between tattered covers than shiny new covers among historical sources.

Over the years I've collected quite a number of antique and old books for historical research, especially of the Scottish and medieval persuasion. I love these books -- the feel and smell of them, the wear and tear and imagined history of others who have held them, the look of them on the shelves, While I will delve into everything and anything when I'm in a voracious research mode, it's often the oldest books, rather than the newest, on the subject at hand that yield the most interesting and useful information and inspiration.

The house is full of books and bookcases, but none more dear to me than the bookshelves crammed with old and antique books -- rows and rows of lovely tattered copies with embossed, gilded, threadbare or faded spines. Some of the pages are so delicate, foxed and gone golden over the years, that the pages must be treated with care. But oh what wonderful stuff is in those old pages.

When I’m researching a new topic for a novel, I go to three types of sources – children’s books (the best and fastest way to glean an overview, especially on a topic new to me); the latest and most up-to-date work on a subject such as medieval pilgrim routes, for example; and the oldest, most crumbled, obscure, outdated books I can find. Whether on my own bookshelves or in the dustiest sections of a university library, those books are the closest it gets, sometimes, to the historical source.

If I’m writing about 19^th century characters, what better resource than a book the characters might have had on their own shelves – Sir Walter Scott, with his sometimes wildly inaccurate history, is a direct Regency source, and his juicy taste for historical trivia was unparalleled (if untrustworthy). His library at Abbotsford (shown here) is paradise (I know, because I've been dragged out of there more than once by friends).

I love the gossipy, sentimental, dramatic Victorians, too, like Lang and Skene and others, whose histories are part fact and part fancy. Going further back, there's the yummy biases of late medieval historical chroniclers like Froissart, Holinshed, and even earlier. Their slants, prejudices and flat-out fibs are just the thing for understanding history from a historical perspective rather than a modern one. Historical fiction does not always require absolute accuracy - authenticity is more crucial to writing a readable, enjoyable novel. And what's more enjoyable than researching quaint and sometimes downright wacky old histories?  

If I’m writing about Victorians who are interested in archaeology and old myths, why go to current archaeological and mythology sources? Head straight for W. F. Skene, that old Victorian intellectual lion, that armchair Indiana Jones, whose work on ancient Wales, the Matter of Britain and of course the Celts is still rock solid today, and still radical in aspects. His fascination and immersion with ancient British cultures reflected the interests of his own society in the hidden, the mysterious, the deliciously mystical and enchanted, and his work was a likely inspiration for Tolkein's academic and literary "story soup."

Just now I’m looking into fairy lore and Celtic myths again, something I often draw on for my stories. Try researching fairy lore these days – now there’s a glutted and overwhelming research field. With such a plethora of fairy sources now available, where does one even begin, let alone figure out what’s reliable core mythology and what’s been invented since (and therefore not to be touched with a ten-foot wand by another fiction writer)? Going back to the oldest studies I can find, ah, then things make much more sense. Here are the beginnings, the origins, the best core versions of the wonderful, lyrical, magical stories that my own fictional characters might have known.

And what a great list of antique fairy sources there are – either as tattered old bookshop finds on my own shelves, or in reprint form (and many of them are available dirt cheap and even free in e-book, a handy source unless you are addicted to turning old pages, as I am). There’s Thomas Keightly’s Fairy Mythology, Evans-Wentz’s Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, W. B. Yeats’ own fascination with fairies and Celtic ; stories, myths and superstitions collected by Lady Gregory and Lady Wilde; and Andrew Lang, a respected Victorian academic whose red, blue, green, orange, purple, pink fairy tale collections rank right up there with the Grimms.

So when I’ve got real research to do, and a genuine understanding to develop of some area of history, I go for the oldest books I can find – the books in the worst shape, the most outdated writers with often questionable intentions, unreliable accuracy, personal agendas or endearing academic naivete – what great, unique sources for a fiction writer looking for authentic, delicious sources and inspirations for a new story.

Do you also have an obsession for old books, the older the better? Are your bookshelves sagging with beloved, tattered, faded and unique volumes?  Do you favor a modern fairy book, an antique fairy book, a free e-book fairy book (or no fairy book at all!)?  

If you'd like a copy of the Wenches' latest, our anthology Mischief and Mistletoe, leave a comment and we'll toss your name in the hat!

Susan

p.s. Speaking of old books - ahem - the e-book releases of my backlist continue to grow. Currently Laird of the Wind (now a bestseller on Amazon!) and Angel Knight are available for .99 cents!  Grab them before the price goes up...and happy reading! 

 

 

 

Seen any good movies lately?

Anne here, talking about a few movies I’ve seen lately. Since I’ve taken to working from home, I don’t go out to see movies nearly as regularly as I’d like to. I used to have a bit of a routine of going out to dinner and a movie with friends, but slowly that fell by the wayside as the demands on people’s time grew. Often I’ll see or read some review and think “I’d like to see that movie” and then life will catch up with me and by the time I’m ready to see the film, it’s no longer showing in cinemas.

And yes, there’s the DVD or the download available, but for me, going to a cinema adds an extra layer of magic to a movie; it makes an event of the experience. There’s something about the ritual of sitting in a darkened auditorium, staring up at a big screen in the company of a bunch of strangers, with the scent of popcorn teasing my nostrils as I’m swept into the world of the movie. It’s almost like being a kid again, and for that reason I don’t think I’ll ever go for a big-screen home cinema.

I’m also very lucky in that the cinema complex closest to my home shows a great variety of movies, from mainstream blockbusters to imports and art-house movies from other countries, all in a dozen small cinemas with comfy chairs and lots of leg room.

So the first movie I saw this month was a French movie called The Intouchables. It’s a wonderful, feel-good, funny movie that’s broken box-office records in France and across Europe, and if you get a chance to see it, do. It’s about a young black tearaway, just out of prison, who against all the odds, is hired to be a carer for a millionaire quadriplegic — he’s hired on a whim, almost as a joke, and nobody expects him to last in the job more than a day or two — least of all him. On the surface, these two men — one poor and wild and uneducated, the other rich, sophisticated and urbane— have nothing in common, but an extraordinary relationship develops between them. “An irreverent, uplifting comedy about friendship, trust and human possibility.”

The next movie I want to recommend is a Ken Loach film, The Angel’s Share. It’s a Scottish movie, a bitter-sweet comedy heist caper, about Robbie, a young no-hoper from a terrible background who is trying to make good — against all the odds—for the sake of his girlfriend and newborn son. But a little kindness and acceptance from his community service supervisor sets Robbie on a new path and he hatches a plan to get himself and his little family a fresh start in life.

There’s whisky and kilts and a wee bit of violence here and there, and some people might find the accents a little hard to follow in places, but it’s a lovely feel-good movie with a nice twist at the end.

The main character, Robbie, was played by a first-time actor called Paul Brannigan, whose real life was much like that of his character. He gave an extraordinarily assured and intense performance and he’s definitely an actor to watch.

Actually, we had a funny experience the night we went to see The Angel’s Share. We were running late — a little matter of a very delicious spaghetti marinara — and we slipped into the cinema late. Did I mention there are twelve small cinemas in this one complex? Mmmm, yes, you’ve guessed it . . . We crept into a dark cinema with the movie already started. We knew we had seats 2 and 3 in the back row, and we could see three empty seats on the other side of the cinema, so we shuffled and squeezed across in front of all the other people in the back row, trying not to step on any toes, whispering apologies as we made our way to those seats. And we sat down and watched. And watched. The main character’s accent was Irish, not Scottish, and there was no sign of any kilts and it seemed to be set in the US. After a few minutes, the penny dropped. So then we had to sneak out the way we’d come, trying not to giggle, whispering more apologies. It looked like a good movie, too — in those five illicit minutes, it hooked us in, so for the record, it was The Seven Psychopaths, and I’ll be going to see it soon.

Finally, there was the latest Bond movie — Skyfall — and of course, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I really love Daniel Craig’s Bond, though Sean Connery still has my heart as the best Bond ever. But Daniel Craig is the best after Sean, and this story had it all. I like the way the characters have more depth and complexity — Bond actually has feelings and cares about people, yet he’s still very much 007 and the stories retain all the action and glitz of the early films. And I loved the way Judi Dench played a bigger role in the story. Have you seen it? Isn’t she marvelous?

So, do you attend the cinema often or do you prefer to watch films at home? What movies have you seen lately? Any that you’d recommend? And who is your favorite Bond?

Fighting Fire

Nicola here. Recently I inherited a whole stack of research books that once belonged to Sheila Walsh, author of many wonderful traditional Regencies. I loved Sheila’s writing and still have a number of her Regencies on my keeper shelf so when I was given the opportunity to rummage through her library and make a bid on any of the books I fancied, I was onto it like a shot. It's always interesting to see the books that have inspired other authors and the ones they have drawn on for their writing, and amongst the treasures I have snapped up is a book about the history of fire-fighting. 

Fire-fighting is a subject that has always fascinated me. Man’s relationship to fire has always been a challenging one. On the one hand it is of huge benefit to us as a source of warmth and energy. On the other, it’s dangerous. It can run out of control, damaging property and threatening life. So I was curious to learn how men have fought fire through the centuries and what would have happened in the Regency period if your house had caught fire.

The Roman Fire Service

Perhaps it's no surprise that it was the Romans, with their metropolitan-based lifestyle and their track record for efficiency and invention, who were the first to develop an “official” fire brigade. They formed bands of slaves, supervised by a tribunal of magistrates, whose responsibility it was to attend any outbreak of fire and attempt to put it out using buckets of water. In 300BC the fire brigade in Rome, known as the Familia Publica, was criticised for being slow to put out a fire in the Via Sacra. This was largely because the slaves were reluctant to put their own lives at risk to rescue anyone else since there was no incentive for them to do so. This changed under the rule of the Emperor Augustus, who created the Corps of Vigiles. As an inducement to service he offered slaves who signed up as firemen their freedom after six years of service and also gave them free accommodation. A professional, municipal service had been born.

The Roman fire fighting equipment consisted of a manned bucket chain and a pump. The pump operated on the same principle as a syringe, with a barrel and a plunger, and could squirt water quite a long way. The other important aspect of Roman fire fighting was the “hook-man” who carried a pole to tear down burning materials in order to clear the way for the men with the water.

(One other thing that caught my eye about the Roman fire service was that their role was soon extended to other public service duties which included the recapture of runaway slaves and watching bathers’ clothes at the public baths to prevent thefts! Rescuing cats from trees wasn't mentioned!) 

The "Couvre-Feu"

After the withdrawal of the Romans from Britain and the decline in metropolitan life, there was no need of a fire-fighting service until the ninth century when King Alfred started to establish towns again. Cities such as Winchester, Alfred's capital, were hideous firetraps as the houses were built of mud, timber and wattle, and stood very close together. There was no organised fire-fighting service and an elementary system was only developed slowly. Church bells were rung (in reverse order) to summon people to help when a fire broke out. The bucket chain was once again the main way that fires were tackled.

After 1066 William the Conqueror, with his passion for legislation, introduced laws to try to reduce fire risk. The "couvre-feu" law ordered that all cooking fires inside houses should be covered at night. The phrase “couvre-feu” later gave its name to the curfew.

The Great Fires 

Large fires in cities were numerous in the medieval period.  In 1137 the whole of York was destroyed. There was a ban on roofing with thatch in London as a safety measure but in 1212 a huge fire in the capital jumped the River Thames and killed three thousand people. This was known as "the first great fire of London." The street cry of the night watchmen was: “Take care of your fire and candle, be charitable to the poor and pray for the dead.” There was a definite link between the first and the last.

Meanwhile, the first wheeled fire engine was made in Germany in 1518 but these were expensive and most towns and cities still relied on the old system of throwing a bucket of water. It was not until the 17^th century that towns and cities started to establish an organised fire fighting force again. New York was the first place in the world to have a volunteer fire brigade. In England it took the disaster of the Great Fire of London of 1666 to bring about change. Even in a world where fires were commonplace, the scale of the Great Fire shocked people. Two thirds of the city was lost and two hundred thousand people made homeless and the cost of damage done by the fire was over 10 million pounds. The use of buckets and primitive pumps proved completely inadequate and in the end the British Navy had to use gunpowder to blow up sufficient buildings to create a huge firebreak. After this an organised fire-fighting force finally started to develop though it was funded privately by groups of citizens such as the livery companies who each provided a fire engine, equipment and manpower.

The Georgian Era

The Georgian era was the time that properly organised fire fighting units came into being in Britain, with uniforms and military discipline. There was some competition amongst the London fire brigades as to whose uniform was the most dashing. The Westminster Brigade wore black breeches, blue coats and embroidered waistcoats. The men of the London Assurance Company wore shoes with silver buckles, which were absolutely no protection against fire. Fire engine design was also evolving at the time and pumps were becoming more sophisticated. But these fire services were mostly privately funded. It was the little town of Beverley in Yorkshire that formed the first municipal fire brigade with twelve men, one engine and thirty buckets. Only two other towns followed suit in the 18^th century because of the cost of funding a civic fire brigade.

Whilst towns and cities now had an organised fire-fighting force, albeit mostly privately funded, it was left to country estates to make their own arrangements.  Devastating country house fires were common. The enormous palace at Hamstead Marshall in Berkshire burned to the ground in 1708 when a brazier on the roof set the house alight.  It must have been terrifying to be at the mercy of such a powerful force as fire and not have the tools to fight it.

Powis Castle had its own private fire service from the late Georgian era onwards. It was manned by servants and estate workers and it continued to operate up until the end of the 19^th century. They had their own uniform and both boots and slippers supplied by Stead and Simpson (a boot and shoeretailer founded in 1834). The castle records make reference to a number of occasions on which the fire service was called out and successfully dealt with fires on the estate and in the main house.

The Powis fire engine is still on display in the house. It is fairly small, much smaller than the wheeled fire engines used in towns, which were ten foot long or bigger. A similar style of fire engine from the town of Rye in Sussex was built in 1745 and used for over 120 years. It held sixty gallons of water and has leather hoses and lead-lined water containers. Very practically, it was on runners rather than wheels, to allow it to be pulled more quickly over the cobbled streets of the town.

Finally in the Regency and Victorian era England moved towards the establishment of a municipal fire service in every town and city. The first fire extinguisher was invented in 1816, containing three gallons of water with additional “extinguishing salts.” This was such an exciting development that there were public demonstrations of how it worked! An efficient fire hose was invented in 1818 in Philadelphia in the USA. Efficient fire fighting was finally becoming a practical possibility. However for those living in the country, fire-fighting was still a problem. Fyne Court in Somerset burned down in 1894 when one of the servants lit a candle to warm her metal hair curling tongs and forgot to blow it out when she left the house. The candle set fire to the curtains, dressing table and floor and from there it raged out of control. A message was sent to Taunton, the nearest town, for the fire engine but it took several hours for the fire brigade to arrive because of the steep hills along the route. At various points the crew had to get out and push the engine. As late as the 1950s the spectacular country house at Coleshill at Oxfordshire was destroyed by fire because it took so long for a fire engine to reach it. 

These days fire-fighting has the same discipline and military efficiency as the Roman and early London services had and like them can boast of heroic valour. It's good to see the roots of that system and its sense of human endeavour and heroism going back so many centuries.

It was fascinating to be able to rummage through Sheila Walsh's library and see the books that she had on her shelves. Is there a book or books that you have inherited or picked up that has sparked (sorry about the pun!) an interest in something for you as her research books have for me? Or have you read some of Sheila Walsh's traditional Regencies or other historical fiction and historical romance where a fire has been a feature of the story?

Putting the “Thanks” into Thanksgiving

by Mary Jo

‘Tis the day before American Thanksgiving, and many of us are going in all directions as we travel, or welcome friends and family, make lists of items we might have forgotten for the feast, and if we’re hosting a gathering, we might be doing a hasty clean up that involves shoving things into closets and hoping they don't explode.

In the midst of busyness, it’s good to pause and take a deep breath now and then.  Thanksgiving is mostly a North American holiday, with Canadian Thanksgiving held earlier, on the second Monday of October.  There are other countries that have their versions of Thanksgiving as well.  The holiday is rooted in harvest celebrations which go back to pagan times..  After all, having grown and preserved enough food supplies to take the community through the harshness of winter is an achievement well worth celebrating!

But thankfulness can be for more than just the harvest.  I’ve asked the various Wenches for a few words each on what they’re thankful for:

Pat Rice:

I love the aromas of Thanksgiving, the roasting turkey, the cooking sage and celery, the baking pumpkin and apple pies, and outside, the scents of autumn leaves and woodfires. This Thanksgiving, as all others, I'm grateful for the never-ending supply of books to curl up with after dinner, and for the ability to shop online so I needn't go out in the cold and stand in line when I'd rather be reading!

Cara/Andrea: 
After experiencing the terrifying force of Hurricane Sandy, Cara/Andrea is thankful that her family and neighbors, as well as her house and all the irreplaceable memories inside it, survived unscathed. She's also grateful for things like power, electric lights and the fact that she will be enjoying hot food on the morrow (cold cereal and peanut butter sandwiches begin to taste like cardboard after several days.) But most of all, she's grateful for all her wonderful friends, whose warm hugs and sense of humor kept her smiling through all the chaos. Now, as romance writers, we Wenches all write about love . . . but as Winnie the Pooh says, "You don't spell love, you feel it."

(Above is a picture of Joanna's beautiful cat, creating beauty in a simple moment.) 

Nicola Cornick: 

I am on holiday (for which I am very thankful <g!>) so I'm sorry I don't have time to contribute to this post but I do wish all Wenches a very Happy Thanksgiving!

Anne Gracie:

We don't have Thanksgiving in Australia,  but I do have a journal in which, from time to time, I list seven things I'm grateful for. It's an excellent thing to do, even when you're feeling totally miserable and down — especially then, in fact. And why seven things? I don't really know, I probably read it somewhere. I think the theory behind it is to push yourself to think of more than the obvious things. And I don't just list them, I write about them in a little bit of detail.

Doing this regularly has changed me in small ways. One of the things I once wrote I'm grateful for is that the increased planting of native vegetation in the suburb I live in has resulted in more native birds living around me, so I wake up to the sound of lorikeets chittering and magpies carolling. Now every time I notice them, I smile and it lifts my mood.

I don't write in my journal every day, and I don't do a gratitude list every time — that would be a bit too Pollyanna for me — but I try to do it regularly enough for it to make a difference in how I perceive my life. If you're interested in learning more, here's a link,

I could also add in that right now I'm extremely . . . slurp. . .  thankful for . . . slurp. . . mangoes. The mango season has just started here and. . . pause to lick fingers . . . they're delicious!

Jo Beverley:

Here in England we don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but Canada does, so I'm used to the concept. It's not one of my traditions, but I'm always up for appreciating the good stuff in life. So, I'm thankful for good health, my lovely family, and the fact that my writing is going very well, plus my nerine bowdenii, which puts on a lovely display of flowers at this time when nearly all the rest are dead. I hope everyone reading here has as much or more to be thankful for.

Joanna Bourne: 

I've always figured if you're lucky enough to feel happy just because -- Hey, look! The sun's come up! -- then you're going to have something to be grateful for most mornings.  I am in this felicitous situation.

This year, I've pulled up in a safe harbor after a long tumultuous time.  The sun's coming in the window.  Lunch is simmering on the stove.  I'm doing work that I love.  (I'm currently studying a map of London in 1800 which is where my head is at.)  I work in blue jeans and tee shirt and stretchy red slippers with nifty pompoms on them.

With books and music, friends and family, I am rich beyond measure.  Also, this morning I managed to split some kindling without chopping my toes off.
Life is good.

Susan King:

I've kept a gratitude journal for years, jotting down a few thoughts at the end of the day when/if I think of it -- and if I'm too tired, I try to tick off a few thankful thoughts on my fingers as I go to sleep. Lazy girl's gratitude air-journal! I figure it works as well as ink and paper. It's the thought that counts, after all.
 
This year at Thanksgiving--a time when we're reminded to be thankful for all that we have--while the turkey is roasting, the pies baking and the potatoes simmering, I'll look around and be thankful for family and friends, for health and happiness, for being able to do work that has meaning for me. And I'm thankful for the small things too. This will be a quiet Thanksgiving for us, with two of our kids working that day (medical people don't get a break, but we're all grateful for what they do), and I'm looking forward to a quiet, peaceful day of cooking, football, reading, and taking some time to just plain enjoy a simple day off. I'll be thankful for the savory, sweet, a bit rich dinner (why do this just once a year? I love the Thanksgiving menu!) And I'm particularly grateful that I'll be finally over the flu by Thanksgiving day (I am thankful for antlbiotics!)

And I'm thankful just to be aware that gratefulness is truly important on Thanksgiving Day, and every day. Or as one of my sons once summed up Thanksgiving gratitude years ago -- "I feel great and I feel full!"

Mary Jo:

I have so much to be grateful for!  I love this holiday, which is a warm, friendly gathering of some family and friends with everyone contributing and no football games on the TV.  I’m very grateful for good health, and glad the election is over, and all those ads that came with it!  I’m grateful that I can write stories, and there are still people who want to read them.  I’m grateful that cats have soft fur and purrs.  (That’s the Elusive Lacey on the left.)  And I’m grateful to a world that has (mostly!) useful technology that enables us to connect with our friends and readers. 

Sherrie Holmes, Word Wench Whipmistress:

Every day is a blessing to me. From my early childhood I was known as a Pollyanna, always managing to see the good in every situation. I never outgrew that. In fact, I have a little booklet where I record 3 things I'm grateful for, every day. (Well, almost every day!) The great Victorian writer, humorist, and editor, Edward Sandford Martin, summed it up for me: "Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man it comes as frequently as the heart of gratitude will allow."

Last year, a diagnosis of endometrial cancer changed my life. I made it through surgery with flying colors, and the news was good: they got it all. It hadn't spread. No chemo, no radiation. They say you can judge a person by the company they keep. If that's so, then I must be a very fine person indeed, because I have the best friends and clients in the world. They surrounded me with love and support and prayers during my ordeal. Support came from quarters I could never have imagined. If there's one thing women do well, it's that they know how to support each other!

This Thanksgiving I will put on my Pollyanna hat and reflect once more on the bounty of my blessings, not the least of which includes two comedian dogs who are a daily inspiration on how to live with a heart of gratitude, and an equally comedic cat with a penchant for stealing pencils off my desk.  

MJP again.  At Anne's suggestion, here's a link to a wonderful little clip that says so much about the spirit of thankfulness.

What are you grateful for this year?  Life tends to cycle through ups and downs, but even in a down cycle, there are usually a few bright spots for which we can give thanks.  Just to add to someone's small pleasures, I'll give away a copy of my most recent historical romance, No Longer a Gentleman, to someone who leaves a comment between now and midnight Thursday. 

Wherever you live, I hope you have much to be thankful for today--

Mary Jo, adding a picture of a harvest corn dolly similar to the one that hangs on the door of her office as a memory of living in England--an experience I am eternally grateful for.

The Write Stuff

Anne here, interviewing Cara/Andrea about her upcoming release, TOO DANGEROUS TO DESIRE.

Anne: Cara, this is the third and final book in your Lords Of Midnight series. What’s the best and worst thing about writing a series?

Cara: The Best? I find it fascinating to create a series of relationships that, like real friendships, grow and evolve over the course of three stories. I am a total “pantser, so I don’t have really have personalities, and all their strengths and weaknesses, planned ahead of time. Part of the fun is watching the secondary characters take on a life of their own. (Trust me, they often surprise me! There are days I lean back after a few hours of writing and say, Whoa, I had NO idea they were going to do that.)

The Worst? I confess to shedding a few tears when a series come to end. All of the characters have become such dear friends, so it’s hard not to feel sad as they move away from the cozy little neighborhood of my desk to live in far-flung places all around the world. (I’m happy to report that the Norwegian foreign rights for the Lords of Midnight were just sold last month.) I’ll miss their wonderful company—we had coffee together most every day for so long! However, it’s time to let them go off and have their own future adventures, so I’m looking forward to making new friends who will share my morning jolts of caffeine (along with those afternoon nibbles of chocolate.)

Anne:  Congratulations on the Norwegian release. And you haven’t quite left the world of the Lords of Midnight yet — tell us about TOO DANGEROUS TO DESIRE.

Cara: It’s all about past hurts, lingering regrets, and getting a second chance at love . . .

Long ago, Sophie Lawrance chose prudence over passion, rejecting a rebellious young rogue for the sake of her family—no matter the ache it left in her heart. But when a specter from her father’s past appears and threatens to destroy all she holds dear, the desperate beauty knows there is only one man whose shadowy skills can save her.

Cameron Daggett is a man of many secrets . . . and many sins. He’s never forgotten the pain of losing Sophie. But now, with a chance to win her back, Cameron sets aside his anger and agrees to help Sophie save her family’s honor. Together they embark on a perilous game of intrigue and deception . . . You can read an excerpt here

Anne: The tag-line for the Lords Of Midnight series says: ‘rogues, revelations and redemption.’  I’m rather partial to a redemption story, I admit. In what way is Cameron in TOO DANGEROUS TO DESIRE in need of redemption?

Cara: Cameron is one of the darker, more complex heroes I’ve ever written. And I have to say, I found it a really interesting process to develop him over the course of three books. Of the three “Hellhounds,” he’s the snarly cynic.  He uses his barbed tongue to keep people at bay. Even his two closest friends know little about his background or his inner demons. As men are wont to do, they simply accept for who he is. But we women tend to like to know what makes a man tick (Am I right?) so I kept delving deeper and deeper into his head  . . . and his heart. And I discovered some very intriguing things. Suffice it to say, Cameron is not what he seems, in more ways than one.

As for why he needs redemption, the fact is that anger and resentment have ruled much of his life. Cameron has locked away his better nature, choosing instead to dance on the razor’s edge of danger. He’s a man on the brink of self-destruction and only love can release all the complicated little gears and levers that will free him from the darkness and let him move back into the light. (Be advised that opening locks is not as easy as it might seem. Sometimes it takes some very deft and clever manipulations—as several scenes in the book show. But luckily, Sophie is equal to the task.

Anne: Can you give us a little taste, please?

Moving silently as a stalking panther, Cameron darted out of his hiding place and approached the parlor.
What reason, he wondered, had brought saintly Sophie Lawrance to one of London’s most notorious dens of iniquity? Set deep in the dangerous slums of Southwark, The Wolf’s Lair was a high-stakes gaming house and brothel that catered to rakehells and rogues who played fast and loose with the rules of Society.
    And why, after all these years, should he care?
    Because I am a god-benighted fool, thought Cameron with a shiver of self-loathing.
    The door was shut tightly with the lock engaged. Drawing a thin shaft of steel from his boot, Cameron expertly eased the latch open. A touch of his gloved fingertips coaxed the paneled wood to shift just a fraction.
    Sophie was heavily veiled, the dark mesh muffling her already low whisper. Her companion was speaking in equally low tones, making it impossible to hear their words. However, he saw a small package change hands.
    The gentleman let out a low brandy-fuzzed laugh as he tucked it into his pocket.
    Sliding back into hiding, Cameron watched Sophie hurry away down the corridor, her indigo cloak skirling with the shadows, until she was swallowed in the darkness. A moment later, the gentleman emerged from the parlor, still chuckling softly. He turned for the gaming rooms, a flicker of lamplight catching the curl of his mouth and the slight swaying of his steps.
    Cameron recognized him as Lord Dudley, a dissolute viscount with an appetite for reckless pleasures.
Dudley and Sophie? An odd couple, if ever there was one. The Sophie Lawrance he knew was anything but reckless. She was sensible—too damnably sensible to ever throw caution to the wind.
    But people change, thought Cameron sardonically. He had only to look at himself—there wasn’t the least resemblance between his present persona and the callow youth of . . .
    Shaking off mordant memories, he followed Dudley into the card room.

Anne:  Sounds fab — I can’t wait to read it. Did you have to do any specific or unusual research for this particular story?

Cara: I knew that I wanted to have a few lock-picking scenes in the book (Cameron is a thief, among other things) so when I was on a research trip to London, I spent an afternoon in the V&A Museum in London, where they have a whole gallery of historical locks. It’s there that I learned all about puzzle locks, which are amazingly beautiful as well as functional.

Anne:  Yes, antique locks and keys tend to be elegant as well as functional, more so than today. So, what are you working on now?

Cara: Well, speaking of making new friends to share my morning coffee, it turns out that I’ve already met a delightfully unconventional trio of sisters with a passion for writing. Olivia, the eldest, pens fiery political essays, Anna, middle sister, writes racy romance novels, and Caro, who is not quite out of the schoolroom, is a budding poet. Of course, proper young Regency ladies of the ton—especially ones who have very small dowries—are not encouraged to have an interest in intellectual pursuits. Indeed, the only thing they are encouraged to pursue is an eligible bachelor. Preferably one with both a title and a fortune. So, the headstrong, opinionated Sloane sisters must keep their passions a secret. But as we all know, secret passions are wont to lead a lady into trouble . . .

I’ll be talking more about my new series soon—right now, I’ll just say that the working title is The Hellions of Half Moon Street, and I turned the first book in three days after Hurricane Sandy hit. (Hey, I take my deadlines seriously! I was doing final edits by kerosene lamplight on my laptop, which I had charged on the emergency generator that was running my sump pump.)

Anne: Wow, that’s true dedication! I’m fond of sister series and I love the tag-line ‘The Hellions of Half Moon Street. But I’ll be good and not ask you about them. . . yet.

So here’s a question for readers: do you prefer a hero or heroine-centered series? And what’s a favorite series of yours? Cara is giving away a copy of TOO DANGEROUS TO DESIRE to someone who leaves a comment here between now and Tuesday evening.

Wenchly Weathering the Storm

Joanna here, talking about good books to help us through miserable weather.

Books are a joy in good times and a comfort in bad ones.  More than once I've been delighted to dive between the pages of a book and let the world get on without me for a while, me not being fond of what the world is up to right then. 

This last couple weeks on the East Coast of America lots of folks have found themselves crouching down under the pounding of a hurricane.  I wondered how many of them were reading books by the flickering and uncertain light of candles. 

So I asked the Wenches about their own experiences with storms and whether they had book recommendations for times of stormy weather.

It is from books that wise people derive consolation in the troubles of life.
          Victor Hugo

Nicola Cornick answers: I’m fortunate that I live in a part of the world where the weather seldom goes to  extremes. There has only been one hurricane in England in my lifetime. However over the past few years it does feel as though our weather patterns have been changing. My village was flooded five years ago and there have been increasingly large falls of snow each winter with the village cut off for several days. Usually I enjoy the novelty for a day or two and then start to feel hemmed in. Taking the dog for a walk through the drifts is a fun way to enjoy the different scenery.

If I’m really stuck indoors with no prospect of escape, first I’ll fire up the wood-burning stove. Then I’ll brew a fresh cup of tea and settle down with a pile of books. I remember one year Barbara Erskine’s book Daughters of Fire saw me through the worst. The title was appropriately warming and I love stories set in different historical time periods that are linked by a mystery across the centuries. It was completely engrossing.

Joanna popping up to say I've put Erskine on my next-trip-to-the-library list.  I haven't read her books for a couple years.  Now Nicola's made me hungry for one.  It's like somebody mentioning ice cream sodas or fried oysters. Suddenly it's your next craving.

Buying books would be a good thing if one could also buy the time to read them in.
          Arthur Schopenhauer

 

Pat Rice says:  Given that I live in St Louis where our weather can veer from tornadoes to hurricanes and earthquakes, all in the same day, weathering weather should qualify as an indoor sport.

We currently live in an area with buried power lines, so fortunately, we haven’t experienced power outages lately. But having spent the better part of my life in areas where the power fails if the wind blows, I’ve learned many methods of coping without TV or movies. So those aren’t my first choices. After I crank up the gas fire or kerosene heater and turn my refrigerator contents into soup on the kerosene stove, I retrieve my battery operated lamps or kerosene lamps and head for the bookshelf. Yeah, I can write by pen and paper and often have when the weather lasts longer than a few hours. But books are comforting when the wicked wind blows.

My comfort reads almost always turn to humor and romance. There’s enough suspense and horror in watching the wind, rain, and snow outside without adding more. On the very top of my humorous romance lists will be Jennifer Crusie, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, and Loretta Chase. Terri Medeiros has some great ones, too. I have all their books and I probably ought to start up a Storm Shelf in the basement with those books on it. And then I could add new discoveries as they come along, except I’m buying mostly e-books these days. So I guess I need to start a Storm Shelf on my Nook!

Joanna:  I love all the Romance writers she mentions.  Wonderful reads.  They're on my Keeper Shelf. 

Jo Beverley joins us with:  Like Nicola, I grew up in England, which has a temperate climate, but I also grew up on the sea front, which is a great place to appreciate what storms do come. The often seemed to come in from the north over Morecambe Bay. I will always remember the great storm of 1987, because it occurred on the day my mother was buried. Up there in the north of England we hardly felt it, but I had a lot of trouble getting south of London to my in-laws' house because of trees on the railway lines. That was when Sevenoaks ceased to have seven oaks.

I realize that I haven't used many storms in my books, and that it might be from fear that they would tip drama into melodrama.  There's no subtle way to write a storm!

What bo ok would I recommend for a storm-trapped time? I think I'd want my copy of Dorothy Dunnett's Checkmate, the last book of her Lymond saga. It's big, complex, and highly enjoyable. I'd hardly notice the weather at all -- at least, as long as I had power, and therefore light!

Joanna:  I'm going to just chime in and admit to being a dyed-in-the-wool Dunnett groupie.

Here's what Mary Jo Putney has to say:  For me, the difference between a storm being a nuisance and a disaster is whether the electricity stays on.  If we lose cable and internet, I will whine, but it’s bearable.  As long as there is electricity, there's never a shortage of things to do or food to eat.  Tons of books to read, DVDs to watch, food to pull from the freezer.  Life is good.

But lose electricity and things get seriously uncomfortable!  Shivering (or poaching, depending on the season), is never fun.  Candlelight is never adequate for working or reading.  Since my laptop is always charged, an hour or two of DVD can be watched in the darkness, but after that, there’s not much to do but sympathize deeply with the ancestors.

If a major storm is coming, I’ll make sure there are batteries and candles and matches and some food that doesn’t have to be cooked and will not easily spoil, but mostly I give thanks that my little corner of suburbia doesn’t lose power as often as outlying areas.  For this I am very grateful.  Plus, I have battery backups for both the sump pump and garage door opener, which is helpful.  

Hurricane Sandy blew by just far enough north that it was a nuisance, not a disaster—i.e., the cable and internet went out, but not the electricity.  So we could watch Star Trek: Voyager or Downton Abbey, and I could read Lois McMaster Bujold’s latest, Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance, which is a delight.  

So this time I was lucky—and I’m sending best wishes to those still suffering the effect of the hurricane.  (But really, “Hurricane Sandy” just doesn’t sound mean enough for the damage caused!)

 

If you think you have it tough, read history books.
          Bill Maher

Next, we hear from Anne Gracie:  Hugs to all the people badly affected by Hurricane Sandy — or any other bad storm.

I'm lucky to live in the south-east of Australia, which has a fairly mild, Mediterranean style climate. We don't get snow, and we don't get hurricanes or cyclones.  We get the occasional big storm, severe hail, or the occasional flood and it can get very hot in summer — a few years ago it was in the mid 40's C (over 110 fahrenheit) for a week, and that was very unpleasant. But the extremely hot weather doesn't usually last more than a week and then we get a cool change. Really, the worst we have to contend with are bush-fires, and even then, because I live not far from the centre of a big city, I'm not personally endangered. But it's very grim to see the sky go dark and the sun like a glowing red coal through the gloom and know that a large bushfire is wreaking destruction on some poor souls.

I do occasionally worry about very windy storms, but that's because Ihave a very large gum tree (eucalyptus) in my front yard, close to my bedroom window, and I wonder if it's going to blow down on me. I probably should have it cut down but it's beautiful and has been there for 30-40 years, I think. The rainbow lorikeets love it and chortle and twitter in it every morning, which is a lovely happy sound to wake up to, and a possum lives in it, too, and it's very hard for possums to find places to live in the city; another reason why I'm reluctant to have it chopped down. 

Cara Elliott/Andrea Penrose speaks from personal experience:  My wooded neighborhood occasionally loses power during storms because of falling trees or branches, so over the years I've accumulated a set of strong kerosene lanterns. The mellow glow of oil light is rather nice, and I'm good with striking a match and reading, or turning to pen and paper to continue writing (I've actually been experimenting with writing longhand instead of on the computer even when the power is flowing because a writer pal of mine told me about a study that said the brain works with subtle differences depending on which process is used. That fascinates me, but the trouble is, I fuss and fiddle with sentences so much that a paper page becomes an illegible mess. Haven't quite figured out where to go with it--was hoping I might learn to get the words flowing faster!)

But getting back to storms, a power outage of a few hours or overnight is no hardship, but channeling Jane Austen loses its charm when it goes on for a week. Hurricane Sandy really hammered my property (I lost over 40 100-ft pines, prompting my neighbors to name my place “Tree-mageddon”) Last year, the outage was 6 days during Hurricane Irene, so I bought a small generator to keep the sump pump going. But even with a few primitive comforts-I was able to juggle back and forth between running the fridge and a coffee pot and toaster-the routine of simply trying to keep disasters like freezing pipes and flooding basements at bay consumes all focus and becomes physically and mentally exhausting.

Reading did offer a respite at night-I became immersed in Island of Bones, the third book in a series of wonderful Georgian-set historical mysteries by Imogen Robertson, and the cunningly complex plot was intriguing enough to take my mind off the chaos all around me for an interlude.

Aside from the physical challenges, I also found myself stressed over being “unconnected” to the internet because all phone/tv/internet was out. I try to keep my daily interactions at a reasonable level because I would rather spend my time writing-but I was surprised at how cut off I felt. Thoreau would likely be appalled at such lack of self-reliance. And I was a bit, too. Now that all is back to normal, I am thinking about that and what it says about modern life. Hmmm. I will likely ponder it even more during the next storm! (Oh, and thanks to Joanna and her lovely descriptions of her toasty wood stove, that's the next item on my list as I try to make sure my house will survive the next nor'easter that roars through my town.)

Weather forecast for tonight: dark. Continued dark overnight, with widely scattered light by morning.
          George Carlin

 

And finally,  Susan Fraser King/Sarah Gabriel says:  When I was a kid, weathering the fierce storms in Upstate New York meant excitement and fun--watching huge thunderstorms from a cozy window seat, decking myself out in rubber bands and rubber-soled sneakers, and if the lights went out, the fun got even bigger with flashlights and candles and scary stories. Winters with heavy snowstorms and even blizzards brought a fire in the fireplace and hot chocolate with marshmallows, and once we were crammed into parkas and boots, there were snow angels and snowmen and forts to make and snowball fights to win. And school was cancelled! What could be more heaven sent, from a kid's perspective.

But it's very different as an adult, isn't it, with the family and the house to watch over. If the power goes out, there's the fridge to empty, there may be flooding and yard and house damage and so on. And yet I still love the sturm and drang of a good storm and I even enjoy having no power for a few days (provided all else goes well!). I love the peacefulness when the house and the world are quieted and lit by candlelight (until the neighbors turn on their generator-- that noise is crazymaking). During Hurricane Sandy, my family was thankfully safe, although one of our sons lives in coastal Connecticut. His neighborhood was walloped and left without power for a week. Luckily he made it through without lasting effects. My heart goes out to all those who got way more than a wallop from Sandy, and I hope all our Wenchly readers stayed perfectly safe.  

And there are always books to read on those stormy days to be weathered. My recommendation for rain, hurricanes and candlelight would be to catch up on the TBR pile! I did that during the recent storm when I plucked WIZARD by Gene Wolfe from the bookshelf, having read KNIGHT a while back. Gorgeous. 

Books are funny little portable pieces of thought.
          Susan Sontag

As for myself:  Here in Virginia I caught only the slightest edge tickle of a nudge of the passing of Sandy.  In one of those odd reality that wouldn't make any sense if you tried to put them in a book . . . I got snow. 

Not too much of it.  About six inches of the gloppiest wettest hugest-flakes snow you can imagine.  It practically came out of the sky thump, thump, thump.  But it was the first snow of the year, and beautiful, and no disaster befell me, so I found it a peaceful interlude.  It's very quiet in the mountains when it snows.

Am I the only one of us who settles back with nonfiction when I'm feeling snowed in, literally or figuratively?  I read some in Laslett's The World We Have Lost: England Before the Industrial Age, a lively social history and something of a classic.  Very readable.  For fiction, I'd go with Peter S. Beagle.  Maybe start with his, The Last Unicorn, but anything he writes is lovely.

 

So what's your favorite book in times of sirocco, sandstorm, typhoon, tree-mageddon or other challenges of nature?

Adoption in the Regency

I was doing a little research into one of the Regency staples the other day -- the rescued waif.  This story standby typically involves a girl adopted into a noble family, treated as one of them, inheriting with the others.  

Would this actually work? I asks meself. 

So I look about a bit and decided,
loosely speaking -- yes.
Strictly speaking -- no.

And isn't that helpful?

Sometimes we speak of 'adoption' in a fuzzy, imprecise way.  But there's an important distinction between legally taking a child to stand in the position of a biological child with all the rights and responsibilities that come with that versus assuming care and custody of a child in a limited or informal way. 

Until the 1920s, there was no formal legal mechanism for adopting children in Great Britain.
No.  I didn't know that either.
I just love finding out stuff when I go researching.

"Why any kid would want to be an orphan is beyond me."
Miss Hannigan

What you had in Britain was just a whole variety of fostering, indenture, wardship, guardianship, apprenticeship, and various less-formal-arrangement-ships . . .  but nothing that put the child on an equal footing with children born in a marriage. 

So how did they manage the whole orphaned-child problem?

Ordinary working folk, from simple decency or from a desire for another pair of working hands, would often take in a neighbor's child when the parents died.  Mistress Taylor down the road might take in a girl who could help with her little ones.  The local vicar might find space for another scullery maid in the kitchen.  No official legal guardianship was established, but everybody in the village likely sighed in relief and went on to other problems, of which they doubtless had a plenitude.

If no one stepped forward to care for orphans, they 'fell upon the parish', which was a hard place to land. Local officials might solve the problem of these pesky orphans by apprenticing them. 

This apprenticeship was a mixed bag. 

For parish orphans, it might be called the poor man's guardianship.  The contract gave the master rights over the child, but also bound him to feed, clothe, care for the child, and train him or her up in a trade.  In earlier centuries, apprentices were often treated as part of the household -- an extended quasi family of Master, servants and apprentices.  Even in 1820, in Rural Rides, Cobbett could still speak of traditional farms where master and servants, dairymaids and the farmer's daughters sat down at the same table, a disparate but united household.

Unfortunately, few localities had the funds to bid children to desirable places.  (One common form of charity was to leave money in one's will to buy apprenticeships for poor boys.)  

Some orphans got lucky. Some, like Oliver Twist, not so much.

Looking up into the upper echelons of society, since that's where the fictional orphan above will end up --

The laws and customs of primogeniture meant that men of substance, titled or untitled, would often consider themselves responsible for a widespread group of family, friends and dependents.  They'd snabbled the property and money.  The flip side of that concentration of wealth was they were expected to take care of the family.  

So your average Merchant Prince or belted earl (why belted and how was everybody else holding up their trousers?) might have a pack of widows, spinsters, dotty great uncles and assorted orphans, only tenuously connected to him, land on his doorstep, expecting to be provided for. 

Remember in Heyer's Frederica.   Our heroine applies to the 'head of the family' — a very distant cousin — for assistance.   He was the winner in the big primogeniture lotto.  Time to pay up, bucko. 

 

Another sort of fosterage was not uncommon.   Couples without children of their own would often foster a child, usually related, and raise it as their own.  The child would inherit from this couple through the will.  For instance, Jane Austen's brother Edward left his birth family to be fostered by a much richer cousin, Thomas Knight, and eventually inherited the Knight estates.

Then there were guardianships.  I do not know why Romance heroes and heroines are so unlucky, but there are just troops of them under some kind of guardianship. 

There were several sorts of legal guardians.

 First off were guardians in socage.  This is for heirs and heiresses of landed property.  You do not have real estate, this is not for you. 

Blackstone says, "socage . . . who are also called guardians by the common law.  These take place only when the minor is entitled to some estate in lands, and then by the common law the guardianship devolves upon his next of kin, to whom the inheritance cannot possibly descent ; as, where the estate descended from his father, in this case his uncle by the mother's side cannot possibly inherit this estate, and therefore shall be the guardian . For the law judges it improper to trust the person of an infant in his hands, who may be possibility become heir to him."  Blackstone's Commentaries   

What that is saying is that if the young woman has a piece of property -- say a nice house or half of Northumberland or something -- her guardian will not be the father's brother who is just bound to have wicked intentions toward her.  The custody of the child goes to the closest blood relative who cannot inherit, who will scheme to marry her off to his fish-lipped son. 

Second, we have guardians by nature.  That's going to be the father, first off, and the mother, if the father is dead. When the father does not explicitly appoint a guardian for a female under sixteen, the guardian was the mother.  Her guardianship extends until the girl reaches 21.  An mom doesn't get control of the property.  Only to the custody of the child. A man will be appointed guardian for the property.

Joan Wolf's The Arrangement deals with a situation of this nature.

Finally, there's the 'guardian by statute', or 'testamentary guardians'.  This guardian is the one spelled out in a will.  If we want young Hannah Tweeting to be left in the care of Lord Farthing, all we have to do is put Farthing's name in her father's will.

". . . enacts, that any father, under age or of full age, may by deed or will dispose of the custody of his child, either born or unborn, to any person, except a popish recusant, either in possession or reversion, till such child attains the age of one and twenty years." Blackstone's Commentaries

Only the father could appoint a guardian, not the mum.  If the appointed guardian was unable or unwilling to serve, the guardian didn't have the right to substitute another.  If nobody was named guardian or if the unfortunate man died, this ended in the Court of Chancery, where nobody wins.  One didn't inherit a guardianship. 

What all these formal and informal relationships had in common was that the child did not legally become the child of the foster parents, equal in all respects to those born to that couple.  The relationship between foster child and foster parent or between guardian and ward was always more limited than modern adoption.

In Her Ladyship's Companion, my heroine Melissa was abandoned on the doorstep of a Vicarage and raised by the Vicar as his own.  The difference between a foster child taken in by kindness and a legally adopted daughter of the modern sort becomes apparent when, upon the death of the Vicar, poor Melissa is kicked out to fend for herself.  

So, could a titled nobleman adopt a child?
As I say, sorta.

While I was looking at this subject, adoption, I ran down a mental list of fictional orphans  --  Jane Eyre, Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, (just about everybody in Wuthering Heights), Tom Jones, Superman, Pip of Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, Harry Potter, Fanny Price, Moll Flanders, John Worthing (The Importance of Being Ernest), Penelope Creed (Heyer's Corinthian), Tarzan.

My favorite is Kim.
I just like his sass and style.

 

So tell me, who is your favorite fictional orphan and why?

One lucky commenter (US only) will win a copy of Mischief and Mistletoe.

To nap or not to nap. . .

Anne here, posing the question, “What do Thomas Edison, Winston Churchill, Napoleon, Yogi Berra, Salvador Dali, Gene Autry, Eleanor Roosevelt, JFK, John D. Rockefeller and Leonardo Da Vinci have in common?”

You’ve probably guessed, being smart cookies and noticing the heading for this blog and putting two and two together — yes, they all famously took naps.

Thomas Edison worked for long stretches, and often boasted that he only spelt 4 or 5 hours a night, but he took frequent naps of 3 or 4 hours. He had no trouble falling asleep and could sleep anywhere.

Napleon was a famous cat-napper and when necessary could go days without a full night’s sleep.

Winston Churchill took a 2 hour nap in the middle of the day, and worked late into the night, claiming he got nearly twice as much done that way. Napping was so important to him that he kept a bed for the purpose in Parliament House.

I must confess naps elude me. I’ve never found it easy to take a nap, though I’ve tried often enough. A good friend of mine naps regularly — just lies down, goes to sleep almost instantly and wakes up 15 or 30 minutes later, energized and fresh as a daisy. Not me. Mostly I lie there not-napping. The few times I’ve succeeded, it took me ages to get to sleep and when I woke again, I was more like a grouchy thistle than a fresh, bright daisy.

So many countries, especially in warm climates, allow for naps in their routine, and yet in our culture, for anyone other than little kids or the elderly, taking naps is somehow frowned on. I remember my first experience of the generalized siesta, where most things closed for the afternoon, was in Spain. For the first few days I didn't quite know what to do with myself — I could walk (humming mad dogs and Englishmen) but most touristy things were shut. So I decided when in Spain.... and I went back to the pensione where I was staying and tried to nap, though without success. So I read for a few hours instead, and found that pretty enjoyable, too, but I hadn't had lunch, and by the time the restaurants opened it was pretty late and I was very hungry. But I soon adjusted and now I’d love to be able to take a regular afternoon nap. It seems a civilized thing to do, as well as being healthy.

“Healthy?” you ask. “Don’t you mean lazy?”

Not at all. As well as those listed above, loads of famous over-achievers took naps, and all of them claimed they were much more productive, as a result. The scientists back up their claims.

It’s been well established by numerous studies that naps can improve certain memory functions, can boost a person’s performance, restores alertness, improves motor skills, relieves stress, helps with brain overload, can improve mood, is good for your heart, can restore the sensitivity of your sight, hearing and taste, it encourages creativity and, as many of our famous overachievers asserted, it increases your productivity. Studies also suggest napping might help you to live longer.

Cat-nap, power nap or long nap?
As for how long a nap should be, it depends on what you want and what suits you. Some studies have shown that long naps are more effective than short ones, but other experts suggest a 20-30 minute nap is the optimum. It seems that each individual needs to work out the optimum length of nap time for him or herself.

JFK would nap for one or two hours each day. Yogi Berra once quipped, "I take a two-hour nap, from 1 o'clock to 4." Salvador Dali famously took numerous extremely short naps through the day — he’d take a nap while holding something like a metal key or a spoon in his hand. When he fell asleep, the metal thing would drop from his hand, clatter to the floor and wake him from his nap.

Naps of different lengths provide different benefits. A short nap of 20-30 minutes will enhance alertness, concentration, mood and coordination. Longer naps of around 90 minutes or so will enhance creativity. Which I think means, as a writer, if I’m napping, I’m working, yes? :)

So I’m determined to practice the art of napping. Every day, from about 3 in the afternoon until about 5.00, I’m not good for anything much. It’s when I go to the supermarket, or do something mindless — avoid housework, that kind of thing. We all, apparently tend to do this, fade out at some part of the day. It’s normal. And it’s your ideal nap time.

Tips for napping:
To nap most effectively, you should lie down, preferably in the dark and preferably with a blanket or covering. If you’re in an area where there’s a lot of distracting noise, white noise can help you — turn on a fan, a recording of a babbling brook wind in the trees or something like that. A friend of mine downloaded a white noise app to his phone and plays that whenever he's away from home and it always helps him drop off.

If you’re wired with caffeine, you’ll find napping hard, so you’ll need to plan your coffee, tea or cola drinks in advance — they can stay in the system for up to six hours. Interestingly, you can drink coffee immediately before you nap, and it won’t stop you napping because it takes about 45 minutes for the caffeine to kick in, by which time, you’ll be awake again.

And strangely, it will help you to nap if you set an alarm to wake you up. That way you can relax completely without worrying about oversleeping.

So what about you — do you enjoy the occasional nap, or do you, like me, struggle? Would you like it if the business world allowed people to stop for a nap each afternnon? How did you find your first experience of a "siesta" culture?

Regency Either/Or!

Nicola here! I have one arm in a sling this week after unexpectedly needing some treatment to my shoulder and as a result I can’t type much. So for my blog today I thought I would post up a little game for everyone called Regency Either/Or. I shamelessly borrowed this idea from Honorary Word Wench Mia Marlowe who has a very fun version of this on her blog. I hope you enjoy it and share your choices and your own suggestions!

Duke of Mr?

Actually these days I think that should be Prince or Mr. I have noticed title inflation in some historical romances rather like the millionaire to billionaire inflation in some contemporary romance books. Whilst a Duke (or Prince) is frightfully authoritative and powerful I have a soft spot for a Mr. On the other hand teh duke gets to wear the cute coronet above.

Debutante or courtesan?

I don’t mind a debutante heroine if she has a bit of gumption and isn’t too “straight out of the schoolroom.” As for courtesans, well everyone deserves to find true love.

Swords or pistols?

Which is your weapon of choice? By 1770 the sword was considered very old-fashioned and pistols were
all the rage. But gentlemen, remember: would it not be more mature – and less dangerous – simply to apologise? There is no dishonour in that.

Brandy or claret?

“Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy.” Dr Johnson. Need I say more?

Signet ring or diamond cravat pin?

A signet ring, especially one bearing the arms of the hero’s family, suggests a reassuringly ancient pedigree. Is a diamond cravat pin just too bling?

Curricle or stagecoach?

Who could resist the sports car of its day? But if you do take a ride in a curricle make sure that the driver is a noted whip and not someone who cannot handle his cattle. Let’s not dismiss the stage out of hand, though. You can meet very interesting people on public transport.

Highwayman, smuggler of pirate?

Ok, I know it's cheating to have three but when it comes to heroes who like to walk on the wrong side of the law, how do you choose?

Now it's your turn. Answer as many as you like or make up your own!

Why history?

Jo here. I was having lunch with two of my sisters and the talk turned to why and how children suddenly become enthusiastic about a particular school subject. Both my sisters were teachers. We then moved on to epiphany moments in our own education.

One sister remembered how she found history boring in school, but that when she went to teacher training college and began to use primary sources, it came alive and fascinated her. Primary sources, of course, are from the time -- letters, diaries, newspapers, legal rulings, plays et al. Such documents give us the voice of the time, and sometimes every the voices of ordinary people going about their everyday lives.

Do you remember when you fell in thrall to past times?

I did a degree in history, unfortunately back in the day when social history wasn't much regarded, so it was mostly about international relations and political movements. :: yawn!:: My career as a writer has given me a beautiful excuse to wallow in primary sources a lot, and the internet has made it so delightfully easy.

I can't however, pinpoint where and when I fell in love with the past.

It feels as if I was born that way. Even as a young child I preferred fairy tales, which are presented historically, to anything set in the modern world, such as the Dick and Jane type of Ladybird book. When I started reading novels, they were historical as often as I could get them.

My father was an influence, for he was keen on history, especially of the more romantic type. I grew up on Robin Hood, Hereward the Wake,and Bonnie Prince Charlie. I loved the drama and the costumes.

So, share the when and how of your love of history. I'll give a pick of my books to the author of a randomly selected share. (A pick of those I have, that is. I'll send a list.)

Here's an interesting springboard to some primary sources. It's a teacher resource, but of general interest.

http://www.teachingdegree.org/2012/10/22/bestonline-library-networks/

Googlebooks.

I particularly like googlebooks, because I can put in publication dates in order to get works that my characters might have read. They have made it a bit tricky, for some reason. I have to put in a search and get results and then scroll to the bottom of the page to click on advanced search, where I can put in the date parameters.

Just playing around for this blog I discovered a new-to-me work called The World, published in 1761. I don't have time to explore it now -- I don't! I can't! I mustn't! -- but part of the introduction is an almost irresistible hook.

"My design in this paper is to ridicule, with novelty and good-humour, the fashions, follies, vices and absurdities of that part of the human species which calls itself the World, and to trace it through all its business, pleasures and amusements. But though my subjects will chiefly confine me to the town, I do not mean never to make excursions into the country; on the contrary, when the profits of these lucubrations shall have enabled me to set up a one-horse chair, I shall take frequent occasions of inviting my reader to a seat in it, and of driving him to scenes of pure air, tranquility and innocence, from smoke, hurry and intrigue."

I don't! I can't! I mustn't!

Oh, all right. Just a little peep. Ah, what I first find are stories laid out to illustrate vices and virtues. The first one is complicated, but it certainly illustrates the way of the world at the time. I'll capture it, clean it up, and make it available in due course.

So back to you. When and how did history get its hooks into you?

Cheers,

Jo

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Empire: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

by Mary Jo

I was drafting a different blog when I realized it wasn't making a lot of sense, so I decided to riff on another topic altogether.

Anyone who has read my books over the years has probably noticed that I’m intrigued by the various historical connections between Britain and its empire, especially India, since there has been so much interaction over the centuries.  I also occasionally like to riff on movies: one of my favorites was Amazing Grace, a wonderfully entertaining biopic of William Wilberforce, the great anti-slavery crusader and reformer of late 18th and early 19th century Britain. 

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is more of a sweet adult tale with both comedy and drama, but it also has two major elements that struck me.  The first is—how often do we get movies that are serious about the lives and emotions of senior citizens?  Not often enough. 

The Story:

The set up of the movie has an exuberant young Indian, Sonny Kapoor, decide that he should convert his late father’s crumbling hotel into a retirement home for Britons who want to live in the sunshine, and who may not be able to afford to live as well as they’d like at home.  Played by Dev Patel of Slumdog Millionaire, Sonny is charming but not very practical.

The movie follows seven Britons who come to India to live in Sonny’s hotel, with varying degrees of satisfaction.  Most are single, like the newly widowed Evelyn, played by the ever-wonderful Dame Judi Dench.  As she blogs about her experiences so her family and friends in Britain can stay in touch, she becomes the emotional center of the film.

Some of the Britons embrace the color and chaos of India, others hate it, and at least one of the characters adapts rather against her will. There is the racist who isn’t comfortable with all those dark skins, and the silver foxy lady who doesn’t care what race a man is if he’s attractive and has some money. 

The storylines were handled with a light touch, but the characters felt real to me.  I cared what happened to them—and I felt very satisfied at the end.

The other element:

I also really enjoyed the way BEMH showed modern India.  There are modern young lovers on scooters, and traditional women in graceful saris.  We see an Indian call center from the point of view of the young, intelligent graduates who work there, and the tug between tradition and a changing world.

 

Movie thoughts: 

Movies are such fun to chat about, aren't they?  My sister and I are plotting to watch The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel again over Thanksgiving.  Have you seen the movie or would you like to? 

Can you think of similar movies that bring together cultures in a warm and interesting way? 

Come to think of it, this is a category of story I particularly like.  Maybe it’s time to rewatch Under the Tuscan Sun, since it has a lovely intercultural story line, though without the colonial history…

Mary Jo

 

Books & Bibliophiles, Revisited

Cara/Andrea here,
I hope all of you in the path of monster storm Sandy make it through safely. Here in my town we are still without power and likely to be in the dark until next week. Luckily I have a small generator to keep some basic appliances running, but there's no Internet-- just my trusty I-phone which is keeping me in touch with the world. So I am invoking the Wench Emergency Rule and posting an old blog from several years ago. Seeing that I am doing a lot of reading by the fire with my kerosene lamps providing a mellow glow (made even more mellow by copious glasses of scotch) I thought it fitting to choose one on the history of the library. And hey, it's even more fitting as I have a new book releasing on November 20!

So without further ado, please read on!

Cara/Andrea here, just back from a fabulous research trip to London. Alas, timing was such that I missed meeting up with Jo and Nicola for a Wench Tea Party, but it was still an amazing experience—but more on my travels in my next blog!

Today I’m talking about libraries—I made a stop at my local branch the other day, intending to pick up a Harry Potter DVD and a biography on Casanova that I had read about. But as often happens when I walk by the display of new acquisitions, my gaze strayed and I found myself drawn to a lovely book entitled “The Library: An illustrated History.” How could I resist! (That’s a pic I took of the Radcliffe Camera, part of the Bodleian Library at Oxford, not my local branch!)

Tucking it under my arm, I hurried to the check-out, grinning like a Bedlamite. One of the things I love about libraries (and bookstores, though they are a more expensive delight) is that serendipitous discovery, that unlooked-for treasure that sends a happy little thrill coursing down my spine. Now some of my friends find that shopping for clothes or shoes lifts their spirits. But me, I’d much rather have a good book than a pair of bargain Manolo Blanicks (okay, maybe I’d like the book  AND the Blanicks.)

That said, “The Library: An Illustrated History,” by Stuart A. P. Murray and co-published by the American Library Association, proved to be a fun journey through the centuries, with plenty of offbeat digressions on the development of printing, paper, and the notable bibliophiles in history who were passionate about the written word.

According to the  ALA, Americans made 1.3 billion visits to libraries in 2008, and borrowed over 2 billion items. Now, I happen to love little tidbits of information like this. But I have to confess, though there were many modern fact and figures, the most interesting part of the book for me were the anecdotes from history. So, without further ado, here are some of the things I learned . . . 

“Library” derives from liber, the Latin word for book. The earliest known library was discovered during the 1970s in the ancient city Ebla, in modern-day Syria. Dating back to around 2500 BCE, it contained close to 20,000 clay tablets written in cuneiform, the earliest form of written language.

The Egyptians developed the first paper-like material (papyrus), which was used for elaborate scrolls. (The Greeks called papyrus rolls biblion, and the clay pots where they were stored bibliotheke—a place to keep books.) Using this new “technology” as well as clay tablets, they compiled the renowned ancient library at Alexandria. It is said that the library at Pergamum, in Asia Minor, began to rival Alexandria and so the Egyptians refused to export papyrus to them. Undaunted, Pergamum began to use calf, sheep and goat skin to write on—and so the Latin word for such material became pergamenum. Which explains our word “parchment.”

The Romans came up with the ‘codex’ form of book, in which scrolls were folded into “pages”. (Julius Caesar is credited with being the first to do so with his dispatches to Gaul.) This form evolved into cutting the folds, allowing for writing on both sides of the sheet. Stiff covers, usually of wood, were used to protect the pages, and thus we have the origins of our modern book. (Today, a codex refers to a manuscript from the Middle Ages or earlier.)

Theft of books has been a problem throughout the ages. In the Middle Ages, the monastic libraries took to chaining the most popular books to desks and lecterns. On my recent trip to Oxford, I visited the Bodleian Library and actually saw this in Duke Humfrey’s medieval library, a section that is still open to scholars today. (Nicola informed me that people who apply for research privileges must sign a pledge that includes a promises not to burn the books—the danger from candles were a huge threat in medieval times.) Because of the chains, the books must be shelved with the pages facing outward.

Book curses have also been employed (with questionable results.) One of my favorites is a Medieval Spanish warning: Him that stealeth or borroweth and returneth not this book, let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck by palsy and all his members blasted. Let bookworms gnaw his entrails and let the flames of hell consume him forever. (Uhhh, the nickel a day fine for overdue books at my local library seems quite mild in comparison.)

For me, one of the most interesting early bibliophiles was Sir Robert Bruce Cotton. A scholar and politician, he compiled a spectacular collection of books, coins and antiquities during the mid-1500s, including the original manuscript of Beowulf and the Lindisfarne Gospels, a seventh century illuminated manuscript from northern England.

The Cottonian Library used  a unique system of cataloguing its books. Fourteen busts of famous Romans were placed atop the various bookshelves and cabinets, and each item of the collection was listed with the letter of its Roman (N for Nero, etc.) a letter for the shelf, and then a Roman numeral for where on the shelf it sat. In 1702, Cotton’s grandson bequeathed the collection to the state, and in the 1750s, the British Museum and Library took charge of it. I find it endearing that the British Library still keeps Cotton’s original books organized by his “Roman” system. (The Dewey Decimal Classification didn’t come into being until 1876.)

Our Library of Congress was established in 1800, in the same act that authorized the transfer of government to Washington, DC. At first, it was, as the name implies, only for members of Congress. Thomas Jefferson, an avid bibliophile took a great interest in recommending acquisitions. When the nascent collection was burned to a crisp during the War of 1812, (Nicola, we forgive you Brits) Jefferson offered to sell Congress his private collection of 6,487 books (appraised at $23,950) to begin anew. Now, that’s one government expenditure that I heartily agree with!

One of the things that struck me as I read the book was the incredibly wide range of libraries there are around the world—from a traveling burro with a book sack slung over its back in rural Columbia to the dazzling splendor of the Vatican galleries, they come in all sizes and shapes. And some are artistic treasures in their own right. The contents are mind-boggling as well, from the broad scope of the New York Public Library to the innumerable arcane and eclectic specialized collections. Books, books, books—what a source of constant awe and delight! (here's my library . . . not quite as impressive as the sleek, modern new British Library shown above.)

Now that you heard my “show and tell”, have you made any fun “finds” at the library recently? And have you visited a library, famous or otherwise, that simply awed you? I’ll never forget my first visit to the old British Library, where I saw the original manuscript for Jane Eyre on display.