Word Wenches

May Traditions Old and New

Nicola here, celebrating the month of May. What does May mean to you? For me it brings back memories of dancing around a stripy maypole when I was at primary school. More prosaically it is also the month when I have to get the car taxed and serviced.  There are also two public holidays in the UK during May so that means lovely time spent with family and friends, eating, drinking and making merry. Traditionally there is a lot of that sort of celebrating in May!

The month of May probably takes its name from Maia, the Roman goddess of growth. In the Northern hemisphere at least it is a month traditionally associated with fertility when nature makes a great show of its fecundity. In Le Morte D’Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory uses the word “lusty” four times in five lines to describe the month of May and the effect it has on human behaviour: “Every lusty heart that is any manner a lover, springeth, burgeoneth, buddeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds.” You get the idea! 

The Irish Gaelic name for the month is Beltane and the Festival of Beltane, marked by the lighting of bonfires, takes place today on May 1^st. In Scots Gaelic it is Ceitain, meaning beginning, because it was the first month of summer in the Celtic calendar. Whilst May can bring a taste of summer it can also be a chilly month. “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,” as Shakespeare said, and I vividly remember my grandmother reminding me of the old warning: “Ne’er cast a clout til May be out,” a piece of advice she followed to the letter with hat, scarf, gloves and coat on when she went out in May. Here she is in the photo (admittedly this was Norway in May!)

May is traditionally a month associated with merry-making but one would be foolish to disregard the warnings in the old superstitions. For example it is unlucky to buy a broom in Cornwall in May for fear of being accused of witchcraft. Any other time of the year is fine. Also an early dip in the sea is not recommended: “He who bathes in May will soon be laid in clay.” We have been warned.  

May Day itself is rife with old traditions. This year it won’t be possible to go out “maying” at dawn to collect branches of hawthorn, because the weather has been so cold that they aren’t fully in flower yet. This custom dates from before the 13^th century and was part of the festival at which the May Queen was crowned and villagers danced around the maypole. Maypoles were originally cut from wood; the one erected to celebrate the restoration of King Charles II to the throne in 1660 was 134 feet high and stood for fifty years. These days the sport of maypole stealing is rife in some villages in the UK to the point that some of them are fixed with burglar alarms as well as lightning conductors. 

As a child I used to attend the famous May Fair in the town of Knutsford in Cheshire and the thing I
remember best is the “sanding of the streets.” The story goes that in the 11^th century King Canute emptied sand from his shoes after fording the river at Cnut’s Ford and patterns and pictures in coloured sand are still made on the pavements to bring good fortune to the town. I absolutely adored these as a child. Sadly I couldn't find any photos of the street sanding but there are some wonderful old pictures of the May Day celebrations.

 In the mid-seventeenth century the Puritans uprooted the maypoles and banned the May celebrations because they encouraged drinking and licentiousness but they were reinstated after 1660. These days it is more likely to be health and safety regulations that lead to the festivities being banned; a few years ago the cheese rolling ceremony at Cooper’s Hill in Gloucester was cancelled in case people fell down the hill. 

The connection of May Day and cheese perhaps comes from the fact that in medieval England the serfs and peasants were granted the right to the lord’s milk for a week after the Spring Equinox (April 21^st) and so could make more cheese and butter than usual. Many of the traditional foods celebrating May Day are milk-based puddings especially cheesecakes and in Ireland, Hasty Pudding, which I believe is also made in the US. 

 Do you celebrate May Day and the coming of summer? What will May bring you and what does the month of May look like where you are? I imagine that in the Southern Hemisphere in particular May looks and feels very different. Time to keep warm in front of the fire, perhaps. Wherever you are, a very happy May Day to you!

What We Are Reading in April

Cara/Andrea here, hosting our monthly spotlight on what titles are tickling our fancy. As usual, there are some marvelous-sounding books—I've already added a few to my towering TBR pile. I'm sure you'll find some new "keepers" too:

Nicola Cornick
A real mixed bag from me this month! I did something I very seldom do, which 
is read Stephen King. Although I think he is a great author the squick 
horror factor is usually too high for me to cope with. However I loved the 
short stories in Full Dark, No Stars. I thought they were clever and 
inventive and I couldn't turn the pages fast enough. That said, one of the 
stories did give me nightmares!



In something of a contrast I dug out my ancient copy of Watch The Wall, My 
Darling by Jane Aiken Hodge. I'd forgotten what a great book it is. I adore 
the strong, practical American heroine who comes to find her English family 
and sorts them all out in short order! I'm a sucker for a bit of Gothic 
mystery and the brooding atmosphere of Romney Marsh during the threat of 
Napoleonic invasion is beautifully written. With a great cast of characters, 
smugglers, spies and a very attractive hero this is one book very firmly on 
my keeper shelf.

 My non-fiction read this month is The Secret Still, by Gavin D Smith, which 
is about Scotland's clandestine whisky trade. I'm reading it as research for 
the third in my Scottish Brides series which features a gang of illicit 
whisky distillers. The book is great; it reads like an adventure story with 
oral history, formal documentation and tales and legends coming together to 
give a vivid insight into the trade in illegal distilling.

Pat Rice
I'm still on an urban fantasy kick. Just finished Darynda Jones's FOURTH 
GRAVE BENEATH MY FEET and I'm still loving the outrageous humor. The 
protagonist is a grim reaper still learning what she can do, and the 
love interest is a son of Satan in a battle with his father, but the 
characters are the story. Yeah, we all know the apocalypse is looming, 
but what we really care about is whether the grim reaper will get over 
her obsessive shopping compulsion before her apartment falls into the 
one below, and if she'll reconcile with her dying father before she runs 
out of insulting t-shirts. It's more apparent in this volume that the 
author is being encouraged into Janet Evanovich mode, but this character 
changes--constantly.


For something different, I've just started VANITY FARE: A Novel of Lattes, Literature and Love by Megan Caldwell. It's caught somewhere 
between chick lit and women's fiction but the attempt to be literary 
results in a lot of telling instead of showing. The divorcee goes back to 
work in marketing storyline has been done better. I'll keep reading to 
see if there are any new twists.


Anne Gracie
Apart from the Madeleine Brent rereads, which I blogged about here, I've read a few crime novels, including Deborah Crombie's  A Share in Death, which I enjoyed. It was her first book, and I was intrigued enough to order the next one.

The stand out read for me this month was a historical time-travel book. After having read and loved Connie Willis's To Say Nothing of the Dog, which I enjoyed immensely, I approached her The Doomsday Book with a certain amount of trepidation, as I'd heard it was much grimmer. But I really enjoyed The Doomsday Book -- it was set in the same time-travel world but wasn't a comedy. It was gripping --I read far into the night -- and the characterization was as crisp and quirky as the first book of hers I'd read, and yes, the subject was pretty grim in parts, but riveting, nonetheless. It ended well for me and I'd recommend it.

Jo Beverley
Pierre and Marie, The Story of the Real French Lieutenant's Woman, by Pauline Page-Jones. This slim, handsome hardcover, with many colour plates, was sent me by a Welsh friend, and the only way to buy it seems to be on e-bay here.

The book is mostly about the author's town of Llanfyllin and the house where she was raised, but it contains many interesting details about life there in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. In that house is a room decorated with dreamy landscape murals that were the work of a French officer, imprisoned
there on parole. He was Pierre Jacques Augerand, and he fell in love with a local girl, Mary Williams. Unlike in the French Lieutenant's Woman, he returned after the war to claim her, and they lived happily in France.

The author gives interesting detail about the restrictions and opportunities for a French officer on parole in the wilds of Wales, which I'm sure could form the basis for a very interesting Regency romance.

I've also been reading The Stranger In England, but C A G Goede, written in 1807. I found it when looking in particular for more information about the way of life of the wealthy merchants., and he's one of those travelers who loves to give detail. He does digress into comparisons with Paris (though they would be
very interesting to anyone wanting to know more about life there at the time) but on the whole he records the way of life in London for ladies, gentlemen, merchants, and whores, even down to times of day.

"The fashionables leave London regularly for half the year, while the  cits still contentedly pursue their business behind the counter. The  city therefore does not lose its attraction when the west end is  deserted; but the middle of spring is the season when London is most  numerously inhabited. Nor is the population confined to an ebb and  flow resulting from the seasons: it varies with the hour of the day, as I shall describe."

This is easily found online here.

Mary Jo Putney
I’ve had a pretty good month for reading, but I’ll restrict myself to two books.  First is a women’s fiction novel: The Union Street Bakery by Mary Ellen Taylor.
 
Mary Ellen Taylor is a pseudonym for romance and suspense author Mary Burton.  I know her from RWA, and we had a nice chat at the Virginia Festival of the Book in Charlottesville, where she mentioned that she’d made her first foray into women’s fiction.  The book sounded interesting, so I ordered it when I returned home.
 
Daisy McRae was a hot shot investment professional before her firm crashes and she finds herself without her fiancé, her job, or her apartment.  With no other options, she moves back to the attic of her family home in historic Alexandria, Virginia, where she will take on the job of manager for her family’s struggling bakery.  This involves getting up at 3:30 in morning (Aieeeee!)—and dealing with the fact that she has never felt like a real McRae.  At the age of three, she was abandoned by her mother at the McRae bakery, and that sends repercussion through every area of her life even though she was adopted by the warm, loving McRaes.  Lots of good character development as Daisy comes to terms with herself and her family, deals with a couple of ghosts, and there are even a few recipes at the end.  <G>  Thoroughly enjoyed this book.
 
Then, a mystery: Rock & Roll Never Forgets by Deborah Grabien. As a mystery reader, I’m not that interested in solving puzzles or whodunit.  I want characters first, last, always.  This is a great series suggested by a friend, and after one book, I’m already glad that the JP Kinkaid series has 7 books total to glom.
 
Author Deborah Grabien is a San Francisco rock musician, a cat rescuer, and a woman who lives with MS, and all those elements are incorporated in the book.  Narrator JP Kinkaid is a guitarist in an internationally famous rock band that bears some resemblance to the Rolling Stones in that the members are in their 50s and have been together a long, long time.  They’re all English, but JP lives in San Francisco with his old lady.
 
JP’s music is his passion, but he also lives with MS and all its uncertainties, with good days and bad days and the knowledge that someday, even with the support of his bandmates, he might not be able to go on.  But for now, he can ROCK!
 
The story begins at the end of an international tour by the rock group, Blacklight, when the members learn that a famously nasty biographer is going to write about them, digging up every piece of dirt and scandal he can find about the musicians and the people around them.  The murder victim totally deserves it, but the heart of the story is the relationships, including a romance of many years that is challenged and transformed as the story progresses.  The descriptions of the concerts are vivid and convincing and ring with authenticity.  I’ve already ordered the second book, While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Susan Fraser King
In our house, the books are once again reaching critical mass--so it's time to cull and part with some of them, or at least expand with more bookshelves and new, better arrangements. Or both solutions! So this month, my reading stack reveals that I'm on a decorating and organizing kick (or contemplating such), and I'm reading/browsing/drooling over books about storing and displaying book collections. I'm especially enjoying the gorgeous photos in Books Make A Home by Damian Thompson. If you don't know quite what to do with all of your books (and you love being surrounded by them), you'll find some tempting ideas here.

Fiction-wise, I've just started Legend by Marie Lu, a futuristic YA of the post-apocalyptic variety--so far, the writing, story and characters are quite solid and I'm happily sticking with it. Though I'm a bit over the post-apocalyptic society trend in general, this is fresh and moving along at a good clip. And the cozy mysteries always stock my shelves, even if I'm woefully behind on getting through the stacks. This week, I'm reading Night of the Living Deed by E.J. Copperman, the first of a series about a single mom who runs a haunted B&B and ends up working side by side with a pair of ghosts to solve murder mysteries. It's quick, quirky and clever, and keeps me interested (and I do love me a good ghost story) -- so I'll definitely be looking for the next one in the series.

Cara Elliott:
I’m doing my usual thing in having one fiction and one non-fiction book going. I’d been waiting eagerly for Lauren Willig’s new venture into women’s fiction, and The Ashford Affair has proved every bit as wonderful as I imagined it would be. A sweeping family saga that shifts between present day, Edwardian London and 1920s Africa, it’s poignant exploration of character, conflict and secrets that weave together the different generations. Meticulous research creates a richly detailed portrait of the historical eras, so all in all, I’m finding it a compelling read.

For non-fiction, I just started Simon Winchester’s The Meaning of Everything: The Story of the Oxford English Dictionary. It’s a delightfully entertaining journey through the history of the English language, as well as the great men of words and their meaning, like Samuel Johnson and Noah Webster. Am not too far into yet, but so far, I’m enjoying it very much.

And lastly, we have this from Joanna Bourne, who is frantic under deadline and fears she’s not going to make it—I think all of us, avid readers though we are, have experienced the same blip on the circuit of life that has her saying, “I'm not reading anything at the moment.” Hugs and good luck on writing “THE END” to the WIP, Joanna!

Now it’s your turn, everyone! What books have had you been reading recently that had you turning the pages long into the night? I know I’ve discovered a number of wonderful titles that I wouldn’t have found on my own through the suggestions made by our readers, so please share!

London Surprises

 Hi, Jo here, sharing some of a fascinating book about London. That picture, BTW, is me about a month ago preparing to venture into hown in the perishing cold. The weather's much better now, and I'm beginning to be able to get annuals into the garden.

But back to London.

When doing a bit of spot research I came across a book called A Stranger in England by Christian Augustus Gottlieb Goede, written in 1809. (You can find it on Google Books.) That's almost a decade before the time of my book, 1817, but I have no reason to think the situation would have changed that much.

He loves London, but it's a "warts and all" devotion.

He refers to other writers who have described the city as presenting "a dark gloomy aspect;  the houses being very smoky,  the streets contracted, and the whole rendered impervious to the sun  by low-passing clouds." This is a common complaint. It was very polluted.

To counter that, he writes that they must have visited in autumn and winter."At these seasons of the year indeed a thick humid fog envelopes the whole for the greatest part of the day; and  the smoke from coal-fires, being pressed down by the humidity of the atmosphere, floats through the streets in murky clouds: but in the  spring and summer months, London is quite as cheerful in its  appearance as any other large city whatever."

The true meaning of that does depend on the state of other large cities, doesn't it?

"It is true, the  houses, which are mostly built of brick, and not whitewashed, suffer materially from this smoke, and gradually assume a greyish colour, which would give them a very gloomy appearance were they not enlivened by other means. But the width of the principal streets, the cleanness of the pavement, the splendour of the plate-glass windows, the indescribable magnificence of the shops, the continual throng of well-dressed people, and, above all, the lawns and gardens which enliven the grand squares, produce a chain of agreeable impressions unknown on the Continent, and leave us scarcely sensible  of the absence of ornamental architecture."

He likes it, but it is a rather hurly-burly place, isn't it, not the quiet elegance I sometimes envision. He describes the routines of the day for the great and small, and the ladies of the ton (though he doesn't use that word) crowding into Bond Street in the afternoon so that it becomes almost impassable.

Again, I often read about traffic jams, and with so many unpredictable horses accidents were common, and it wasn't only the carriages that were hurt. The picture is of a London street.

It's easy to forget that even then London was a huge city of about a million inhabitants, and as Goede points out, subject to daily comings and goings. He mentions that the receipts of the London turnpikes show that ten thousand people a day pay tolls to pass through the toll gates around the city.

In that case, I have to wonder whether the hero chasing after the eloping couple and enquiring at the toll gates after them would get much help!

Goede praises London's illuminations. I often come across references to these, which were used to celebrate a variety of events.  He contrasts London's with those in Paris, where they were displayed by the city authorities, not individuals.

"In London, an illumination is a token of public rejoicing, voluntarily evinced by the people themselves. It is general, because every  individual is interested, and every individual cordially contributes  to its splendour. The public buildings on this occasion cannot make much parade; as they  do not, with the exception of the Bank, present any considerable  facade for the purpose, and are otherwise disadvantagcously situated: but the private houses are superbly and fancifully decorated with  lamps; so that in a long handsome street, the brilliancy is  uninterrupted, and inexpressibly grand. Each  byestreet claims its share in the public rejoicing, and we wander  about the town till we are lost in the contemplation of an object that  appears without end.

The inequality of the buildings, and the circumstance of every  occupier following his own fancy, prevent any regular plan of  illumination; but this perpetual variety serves only to improve the  
scene. The eye might otherwise be fatigued with sameness; but now fancy and caprice create fresh objects of admiration at every step we take. The devices at the west end, are usually crowns, stars, crescents, foiaged pillars, festoons, garlands, &c. but those in the city have  
little of either ingenuity or taste; at least, this was the case at  the proclamation of the peace in 1802.

The latter decorations, on this occasion, were for the most part  transparencies emblematical of naval conquests and national glory, portraits of the King, scrolls complimentary to commerce, busts of  favourite admirals, or a whole-length figure of Britannia with an  olive-branch. There were however some of more merit. I remember the difficulty I had  to pass at Charing-cross, where the whole town seemed to be collected  in admiring a device displayed by a tasteful and ingenious watchmaker.  It represented a vessel floating on illuminated waves, the motion of which was produced by clock-work; the whole surrounded by a garland of  lamps, with the motto "Britain's glory."

The squares were illuminated with considerable taste and effect. The houses, by means of temporary contrivances, were transformed into  splendid temples; and beautiful allegories were represented by  transparent paintings. Oxford  street, from its length, breadth, and nearly straight  direction, afforded an enchanting perspective. As I advanced, squares, apparently on fire, burst on the view from either side with sudden and  surprising effect. But the most extraordinary circumstance is, that  whatever part of the town I visited, the crowd was so great that I  might well have supposed every other spot deserted."

This cartoon is of a royal "drawing room." It seems crowds were taken for granted even there!

So we have pollution, crowds, gardens, shops, and illuminations. Not quiet elegance, but a hell of a city!

Do you agree?

Does any of this surprise you?

Do you think that in Regency romance we've fallen into an image of London that isn't quite true to the  times?

 Did it perhaps come from Georgette Heyer? I don't know if the London in the period after the First World War would have been more genteel, in the better parts, at least. Quite possibly. The general progress seems to have been toward order over the centuries.

Jo

 

Isolde Martyn and Mistress to the Crown

by Mary Jo

I’m delighted to welcome Isolde Martyn as a Word Wench guest today.  Born in England and now an Australian of many years standing, Isolde has won numerous writing awards, including an RWA RITA in the US and two Romance Novel of the Year awards in Australia. 

Today Isolde is going to tell us about her new novel, Mistress to the Crown, a story of the remarkable woman known to history as Mistress Jane Shore.  Isolde, over to you!

"How easily Life can flick us. Like an idle boy’s fingernail against a tiny fly. We are so fragile, our destinies changed so easily by a marriage, a death, a quarrel or a smile."

History is full of heroines – women who succeeded and survived despite great adversity, especially in the centuries when the law gave them little protection or rights. Some of them were women who challenged the conventions of their time and my latest novel, Mistress to the Croswn, is the story of such a heroine: Elizabeth Lambard, better known as ‘Jane Shore’, mistress to King Edward IV.

The intrigues of the Wars of the Roses have been at the heart of most of my novels, so that was why I was looking for a historical woman of that era who would have been at the centre of events.

From the writing point of view, I was seeking a main character who courageously faced challenges that revealed her inner strengths and whose goals would be applauded by today’s readers. Historical novel enthusiasts would want me to stick to the facts – what would her life have been like as a royal mistress? What about the famous men who had loved or loathed her?

And historical romance readers would have requirements, too – my spicy heroine had to be a one-lover-at-a-time lady, not a girl who slept around, and there needed to be a happy ending. So would the real Mistress Shore match up? My research needed to separate fact and legend.

This feisty woman had inspired plenty of literature over the centuries. Earlier writers had used her life as a lesson in morality, an encouragement to wives to behave themselves, but the legend of a goldsmith’s misbehaving spouse named Jane proved to have no foundation. The Mistress Shore character was first named ‘Jane’ in a play about King Edward IV about eighty years after her death.

Sir Thomas More did some sleuthing on her in 1513. It would have been like a biographer today researching a royal mistress of the 1970s. More made no mention of her parentage or baptismal name but people remembered her as attractive and capable of giving witty rejoinders without offence. She interceded with King Edward in cases of injustice and it was said of his amorous affairs: ‘Many he had; but her he loved.’

But what was her background? To have been Edward’s mistress for at least eight years argues that she was more than a bimbo or a comedienne. One of my patterns of research with real people is to discover what I can of their childhood. With all the current literature on infancy such as Attachment Theory, childhood abuse etc., we are much more aware of the experiences that mould a child and the scars that can trigger reactions in adulthood and affect decision-making.

With the help of the Goldsmiths’ Guild and the Mercers’ Guild Librarians, I discovered that Elizabeth grew up in a political, affluent household in the heart of London and, reading up on the merchant class of that time, there is evidence that the daughters of such families were usually well educated.

She was baptised Elizabeth and her father, John Lambard, was high-ranking in the most prestigious guild in England –the Mercers’ Guild. Not only did he run a business that probably specialised in the import of costly fabrics but he was also the alderman representing Farringdon Ward, which contained old St Paul’s, two abbeys and Newgate Gaol. He was also second in rank to the Lord Mayor in the civic year 1460-61, when he served as Sheriff of London with a staff of clerks and soldiers under his command. Organising the defence of the city and overseeing the punishment of criminals and traitors were among his duties.

1460-61 was a pivotal year in the Wars of the Roses. John Lambard had lent money to the Duke of York, and when the duke was killed in battle in December 1460 and it looked like Lancaster had triumphed, he must been afraid, not just that he would never get his investment back but that he could be fined or tried as a traitor. For that reason, he supported the decision that London should not open its gates to the successful Lancastrian army. Amazingly, the victorious troops turned back. Then when York’s son, Edward, came knocking on the gates, the London aldermen not only let him in but they acquiesced in his coronation.

Elizabeth Lambard would have been old enough to be aware of her father’s fears and the political see-sawing. She probably watched handsome Edward ride past in procession. However, what must have spoilt the euphoria for her was that during the crisis, her father, anxious to secure her future in desperate times, arranged her betrothal. By law, she was now committed to marry William Shore, a mercer in his late twenties, twice her age.

She was married to him for about 13 years. The Papal Registers tell us that several times she tried to bring a case for separation but her family appear not to have supported her. A woman, a housewife, divorcing her husband! She would be ostracised, spat upon, her honour in tatters.

Elizabeth gained the admiration of the King and his friend, Hastings. I gave her courageous opportunism in the novel but I’m sure her determination to gain her freedom was paramount. Edward’s favour now made a difference. In 1476, Pope Sixtus appointed three English bishops to hear her case. That’s not to say the tribunal was stacked. One of the three judges had been very helpful to Edward’s queen in time of danger. Clearly there was sufficient evidence that Master William Shore was impotent and frigid towards his wife, otherwise the integrity of the judges would have been a laughing stock.

Life was good until Edward fell suddenly ill and died. Elizabeth was accused of treason and witchcraft by Richard, Duke of Gloucester. Her property was seized, she endured imprisonment and a shameful public penance.

But the real Elizabeth wasn’t broken. A letter from King Richard III reveals that one of his officials fell in love with her. And she must have cared for her suitor because she risked marriage again. Both her parents’ wills mention him as her husband. I had the happy ending for my historic heroine.

Here’s an extract from Mistress to the Crown:

There were no servants now. One by one and subtly, the candle flames had been smothered so that only about the table was there sufficient light to show the sheen of skin. The musician had quietly left.

King Edward watched me take a gulp of wine, shook his head teasingly and removed the goblet from my clasp. He let his gaze fall to my cleavage and then rise once more to my eyes.

‘Well, my proud Londoner, shall you let me unclothe you, adore and worship you? If not, flee now, for I’ve an appetite on me that needs must feed.’

‘And my appetite?’ I asked.

‘Fire for fire, sweetheart.’

His lips touched mine teasingly and before I could respond, he drew back. "Sweetheart, I have learned that Life is a trickster and Fortune his strumpet. You live for the moment because you don’t know what he has in store for you. That sinful fellow has taught me some cruel lessons, seesawed me up, seesawed me down, set me against those I believed my friends.’ He carried my hand to his lips. ‘So, my beautiful mistress, let us live this night as though it is our last upon this earth. What say you?’

I nodded, watched him push the table back, stand, and turn to face me.  ‘Take my hand and dance, Mistress Shore, dance before the music is over.’

He held his left hand out to me, palm uppermost. Gold banded his fingers, graceful fingers for so large a man.

Our faces drew close. He looked down into my eyes and tenderly brushed his lips along mine. Had the real Helen felt like this with Paris? Then he made another pass, grazing playfully this time. And deep inside me, the she-serpent reached up her arms through mine and sensually eased her fingers through his long hair and drew his face down.

Mistress to the Crown is not currently available in print in the US, though the ebook edition is available from Amazon. and possibly other e-book sites.  Isolde will give a print copy of the book to a commenter between now and midnight Thursday. 

Also, be sure to check out her website!  Among other treasures is a wonderful interview she did with Dorothy Dunnett. 

Isolde, thanks so much for joining us today!

Mary Jo

 

The Art of Collecting . . .

Cara/Andrea here, I’ve recently been to several really wonderful museum exhibitions, and just love how seeing a carefully curated collection, put together with a focused point of view, can be so inspiring and educational. For me, the best sort of exhibit focus on a specific theme—Fashion and Impressionist Painters, for example—and through the art/objects also give us not only an aesthetic enjoyment but also a broader of context of how they fit into their era and history in general.

That said, it should come as no surprise that museums are some of my very favorite places to visit, no matter what the subject matter. Which got me to thinking about how the concept of the museum itself came into being . . . So I decided to do a little research and here is my own highly abbreviated little catalogue on its history.

The word “museum” derives from the Greek “mouseion,” which means “seat of the Muses. Interestingly enough, in ancient times it referred to a place of scholarly contemplation and philosophical discussion rather than a place with any physical objects on display.

Guest Isolde Martyn

Isolde Martyn will be Mary Jo Putney's guest on Wednesday, April 24, to talk about her new book, Mistress  to the Crown. It's the story of the woman known to history as Mistress Jane Shore, who was one of King Edward IV's mistresses.  It's said of their relationship: "Many he had; but her he loved." Come for a visit with Isolde and Wenches on Wednesday and join in the discussion!

Winners!

We have another batch of book winners! The following intrepid and incredibly smart people won books for leaving comments to our blog posts:  Barbara Elness won a book from Pat. Jody Allen scored a book from Susan by leaving a comment on guest Euan Hague's interview. Not to be outdone, Nancy Fields won a book from Anne. Cara/Andrea's guest Teresa Grant awarded a book to commenter HJ. Cate Sparks won a book from Jo. And last but not least, Jorie won a book from Joanna. Congratulations, winners!

 

The Pastel Regency

 Joanna here:

I have fond memories of my early attempts at the visual arts.  Fingerpainting appealed to the squidgy, primitive side of me.  My big box of crayolas was a regiment of reassuring order.  And then there were poster paints.  So bright.  So vivid. Purple houses.  Green -- I mean GREEN -- fields.  Red cats.

When I run out of red, I use blue.
     Pablo Picasso

But settling down to talk about history. 

He's using a brass pastel holder.

Regency visual artists were about half way along the technological journey between the Neolithic Cave painters and one of those high-tech computer painting programs.  The fine work, the beautiful work, the Regency artists created was accomplished with the most simple tools and a limited array of colors.
 
Let me talk about pastels, because one of my characters, Pax, uses pastels.  I think of it as a portable and democratic art form in Georgian and Regency times.

Portraits in these readymade crayons offered tangible advantages over oil for the artist and the sitter: they required fewer sittings as there was no drying time; less paraphernalia; the materials were easily portable and the costs were lower.
      The Rise of Pastel in the Eighteenth Century, Margery Shelley

Just a whole bunch of pastels.  From the Met

They called pastels 'crayons' in the Regency -- so confusing -- because the waxy colored sticks we think of as 'crayons' wouldn't be invented for another century. 

These pastels were made by grinding natural white chalk -- something you can pick up off the ground in places like Southeast England -- into a fine powder. You mixed this with pigment and a binder like gum arabic.  You rolled the mixture into thin cylindrical sticks or long square sticks and dried them.  These were 'soft pastels'.  They were just super concentrated colors that transferred readily to the paper. 

detail picture above

You had a potential for vivid color, but in a medium likely to crumble and come apart in your hand and smear.  So the pastel sticks were fitted into a sort of metal holder that protected them and provided control and precision for the artist. 

A holder for conte pastels, about 6 inches long, brass

 

 

 

 Because pastels were intended to be inserted into a holder, they were thinner than the ones we use today.  A square shape gave them stability in the holder. 

ETA: I've not yet found an illustration of someone drawing with plain naked pastels, but it's very possible this is how it was actually done.  It's the way pastels are used today, so why not in 1800?

 

 

 

 

The first pencil, or rather crayon, that I possessed, was given to me by that right worthy cronie of my uncle Zachary, William Hogarth. It was one of those which may be still remembered by 'men of my standing'.  One end was of common commercial black-lead, the other red-chalk, ready pointed, and inclosed in a case of need.
     Literary Gazette and Journal, V 4, John Mounteney Jephson, 1820

conte pastels and a holder.

 The most exciting recent innovation for our Regency pastel artist would have been the Conté crayon,  invented in France in 1794.  These were made from kaolin clay and graphite and fired in a kiln.  They were much harder than the chalk-based soft pastel sticks, and came in a smaller range of colors.  They could be sharpened.  They were good for tight, crisp lines and fine detail, and often used to lay down the first sketch on paper. 

Our Regency artist dealt with the fragility of those pastels by 'fixing' the finished art with dissolved Isinglass.  Isinglass, as you doubtless know -- doesn't everybody? -- is made from the dried bladders of fishes.  This was dissolved in alcohol and distributed in a fine spray of droplets over the paper. 


Which brings us to a consideration of color ...

John Constable's oil paints, 1837

Oil paint came in only a few colors.  Oils were a couple decades from living in metal tubes.  In the Regency, they came in bladders that had to be pierced for each painting session.  They dried up quickly and had to be used fast, so artists didn't keep a wide range of colors handy about the atelier.  They mixed what they needed from ten or a dozen basics.

This to the left is Constable's paint box with its paint bladders.  About twelve of them. 

A nice 1794 paintbox with about a dozen blocks of paint and a couple of conte pastels

 

 

 

 Watercolor came in more shades. 

Regency watercolors looked surprisingly modern -- little squares or oblongs with about the texture of today's watercolor, stamped with the maker's name.  The binder contained honey to give a softer, gummy texture. 

Since colors could be mixed as needed on a ceramic palette, even a very fancy watercolor box held a dozen or twenty colors.  Ackermann -- yes the same Ackermann who made prints and produced Ackermann's repository -- offered 68 prepared color choices in 1801.

(So many of these watercolors were so very poisonous.  I'm sure there's a good Regency mystery here somewhere.)

Pastels, on the other hand, came in myriad shades.  In the Regency these were available commercially and had been for a century.

As those students who attempt the art of crayon-painting may be readily supplied by the shops with every kind of crayon, we shall not enter into the manner of their preparation
     Pantologia: A New Cyclopaedia, John Mason Good, 1813


These dozens of prepared colors were not just convenience, but a necessity arising from the way the medium worked.  Pastels could be 'smudged' on the paper to create a blended hue or added in layers for subtle shading, but the artist had to start with a wide selection of excellent colors.

No great success in this mode of Painting can be expected, unless you have procured Crayons of brilliant tints, that are tender, corresponding with those in Nature.
     A Treatise on the Art of Painting, and the Composition of Colours, ‪M. Constant de Massoul‬. 1797

What startles and amazes is how few pigments they had. 

This is the palette they worked with, mostly from ground, natural stones:

natural minerals used as pigments attrib Michael Price 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bitumen
Lead white
Ivory black
Naples yellow
Indian yellow
Prussian Blue
Yellow ochre
Red ochre
Vermilion
Rose madder
Carmine
Burnt sienna
Brown madder
Bitumen
Cassel earth
Ultramarine blue

 

From this -- everything.
All the art.  All the pastels and oil paintings and watercolors.   
I am so amazed.

Paint box with oils:  John Constable (English, 1776–1837), Paint Box, 1837. Tin box with hinged lid housing eleven bladders, tied with string and filled with pigment, a piece of white stone, and a glass vial of powdered pigment, 2 x 13 x 3 3/8 in. (5.1 x 33 x 8.6 cm). Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Massachusetts (photo by Michael Agee)

 

If you were a Regency artist, what medium would you have chosen?  What would you have painted?

Some fortunate person from the comment stream will win one of Joanna's books -- their choice.

Old Friends

Anne here, and the 'old friends' I am talking about are books. In the last few weeks I've been catching up with some books I haven't read since I was a teenager. Not that they're "young adult" books — no, they're written for adults, sure enough.

We moved a lot when I was a kid, and public libraries and school libraries kept me occupied and happy, and my imagination well-fed all through my childhood and adolescence. But the trouble with moving, and borrowing all the time from libraries is that it's very easy to lose track of authors and books that you loved. So rediscovering a beloved author after many years is a joy.

The author in this particular instance is Madeleine Brent, and I remember the first book of 'hers' I read — and the library in which I found it. I say 'hers' in inverted commas because a few years ago I learned she was a man, an Englishman called Peter O'Donnell. And recently I discovered he was also responsible for the creation of Modesty Blaise — which was originally a comic strip, and later a popular series of novels and a less successful movie. Modesty Blaise was described on wikipedia as "a female action hero/undercover trouble-shooter/enforcer."

I never read the Modesty Blaise books, but I adored the Madeleine Brent books, and in the last few months have been buying them up and rereading them — with, I have to say, as much enjoyment as when I first read them as an adolescent. And although I've often said that Georgette Heyer was a huge influence on my writing, I think I also need to add Madeleine Brent to that list.

I suppose you'd describe the books as Victorian era romantic adventure, with the emphasis on adventure, rather than romance. All the stories are narrated from the point of view of a young English woman, sometimes a child, orphaned and growing up in a culture not her own — Afghanistan, Tibet, China, Mexico, the Australian desert. The heroine usually has more affinity with the exotic local culture than England, and through her eyes we learn much about the local culture.

For instance in Merlin's Keep (which won the 1978 Romantic Novel of the Year Award in England) the heroine, Jani, has been raised by an old British soldier she calls Sembur. They live in a tiny village in the Himalayas, and Jani, like all children caught between two cultures understands and accepts both points of view. For instance:

Chela died when I was in my tenth year. Sembur said it was something called a busted appendix, but what had really happened was that a demon had entered her and made her belly swell up very painfully until her spirit was driven out and she died.

Sembur earns a precarious living — and a certain acceptance as a foreigner— by using his good English rifle to protect the trade caravans from marauding Khamba tribesmen. In Jani's words. . .

They had become used to travelling in safety under Sembur's protection, and this was why they were never unfriendly to us as foreigners for long, even when the omens said we brought bad fortune. They knew well enough that Sembur had brought good fortune with the caravans. They also knew that in his last life he had been a snow leopard, which was why the Khambas were so afraid of him.

Sembur himself did not know he had once been a snow leopard, and I never told him because I knew it would make him cross.

Madeleine Brent heroines are always admirable — courageous, tenacious, loyal and modest, though by no means perfect. They've usually been raised by some English person with strict moral codes, a missionary or an old soldier who was displaced by warfare or disaster of some kind in the far flung outposts of the British Empire or beyond.

Usually she has grown up not knowing who she really is, and her journey to discovering her identity -- legal as well as her personal who-I-choose-to-be identity-- is a big part of the story.

Reading his obituaries — Peter O'Donnell died in 2010, aged 90 — his Madeleine Brent books are barely given a mention, possibly because as "gothic romances" they are judged to be some kind of lightweight fluff, mere women's stories. I don't know. I think they're wonderful.

The Guardian obituary described his creation of the Modesty Blaise character thus: She "was inspired by an incident during O'Donnell's second world war service in northern Persia. Camped at a Royal Signal Corps observation post, he and his comrades spied a young girl, obviously a refugee, who eyed them warily but accepted some food. Before she left, O'Donnell gave her two tins of stew and showed her how to use a tin opener. "To this day, I can see in my mind's eye the smile she gave us and the sight of that upright little figure walking like a princess as she moved away from us on those brave, skinny legs," he recalled."

To me, he might have been describing any one of his Madeleine Brent heroines.

So that's one of my old book friends. Do you have any beloved old books from your past? Have you read Madeleine Brent, or any of the Modesty Blaise books? What were you reading when you were sixteen?

Ask A Wench: Mixing Medicine and History

It’s Ask-A-Wench time! We’ve chosen a question from reader Kantu Malhotra, who mentioned (a while back -- OK, so we're not that prompt) that she rather liked a “little tidbit (in the newsletter) about Roquefort cheese” -- a reference to local sheepherders applying stinky, moldy cheese to wounds to prevent gangrene—a practice that eventually led to the discovery of penicillin. “Cool to have a story woven around medical facts of the time,” Kantu told us.

The Wenches agree—it’s really interesting to weave historical medical tidbits into our stories, and we’ve each done that to some degree or another. It might be an injured hero or heroine, or a trained or natural healer; sometimes it’s just a flesh wound ... or something minor that comes in handy for the story. We’re all careful to match the treatment to its historical context. Here are some examples of Wenchly doses of medicine:

Anne Gracie

Illnesses and injuries have come up several times in my books, but in most cases they're pretty straightforward things - broken ankle, fevers, that kind of thing. I have a couple of doctor friends who I run things past, although they're not experts on the historical methods of treatment. I generally ask what could happen if there was no treatment, and would aspirin or poultices or whatever help? And they usually say "Maybe, it depends..." Sometimes I just say something like, "I need a disease that could look fatal but which could be healed without modern medicine."

Many of the recognised medical treatments of the time ranged from harmless to the downright dangerous, but some modern-day readers bring a modern day sensibility to their fiction. I've had a reader criticise my heroine  (in The Perfect Kiss) for overruling a doctor and sacking him because all he ever did was bleed the patient who was getting weaker and weaker. My heroine brought in a local wise woman/healer, and the man got better. The reader scoffed at this  -- first at the arrogant heroine who "knew better than a doctor", secondly at the ability of the wise woman to "magically" heal him with poultices and chicken soup. Actually the disease, the symptoms and the wise woman's treatment had all come from a doctor friend of mine. 

I have historical household management books that contain loads of advice on how to treat various ailments. Some would horrify us. The eye cure, for instance that calls for powdered white of hen's dung to be blown into the patient's eyes, recipes that use "oil of worms" as an ingredient, or the blood of a hare, or dried snail-shells and bees baked in an oven, and white lead -- all sorts of concoctions, and impossible claims that they will cure all kinds of disease. I love these books, with their recipes headed 'An excellent vomit' or 'An infallible cure for the bite of a mad dog' and 'The Tar Pills for a Cough' -- they contained actual tar.

But I generally have my characters employ historical treatments that people today can understand and appreciate -- willow-bark tea for instance, which was the raw source of aspirin, and had been used for centuries as a folk treatment. Cinchona bark,  a natural source of what we now call quinine, has medicinal properties that were  known in Europe as far back as the 16th century. I have my people use herbal unguents containing herbs that have recognized healing qualities. And being a beekeeper, I know about the healing powers and antibacterial qualities of natural honey—people in history didn't understand the science of it, but they knew it worked. 

Jo Beverley

I do seem to injure my characters a lot, especially my heroes. No wonder my husband says I don't want to meet any of them on a dark night! I think it's because if they're going to be active and brave there have to be consequences sometimes or where are the risks?  

In my first medieval, Lord of My Heart, I had the heroine skillfully tending Aimery's wound -- a classic bonding moment, as we all know -- and stitching it. I learned years later that that could well have killed him. Before antibiotics  people were more intent on keeping wounds open to keep track of and fight infection than stitching them up to minimize scarring.

In The Rogue's Return, set in the relative wilderness of Upper Canada, Jancy uses her gypsy knowledge to fight Simon's infected wound with maggots. This definitely works and is still used today. The right maggots will eat corrupted flesh but leave the sound flesh intact to heal. I know, however, that the wrong maggots would eat anything. I sort of mused aloud about how she'd find the right sort and my husband said, "Ask an angler." I soon had all the information and knew that one old way of fishing was to hang a rabbit or such over a stream. The maggots fell out and attracted the fish, which the person fishingust scooped up. People who wanted to fish with a line would cultivate maggots in rotting meat. Therefore I knew how Jancy would get plenty of the right sort, and Simon's arm was saved.

Cara Elliott

Having no medical expertise whatsoever, (not to speak of being incredibly squeamish about needles and blood . . .suffice it to say I once fainted before my doc could even give me a shot) I tend to avoid any detailed descriptions of medical procedures. When my heroes or heroines get hurt, they tend to say, “Oh, it’s just a scratch” and then someone sprinkles basilicum powder on the wound.

That said, in To Sin With A Scoundrel, my heroine was a scientist with a specialty in chemistry, and I have her make a discovery about mold and the healing process (using artistic license to play with the idea of penicillin.) I did some basic research, but didn’t get too detailed about the science as it wasn’t critical to the story.  Laudenum, which was so prevalent in Regency times, does interest me, and I’ve toyed with using addiction as a plot point, but as yet haven’t found the right storyline.

Nicola Cornick

I have to admit that I seldom include much historical medical detail in my books. I belong to a family with more than its fair share of medical professionals and yet I am quite a squeamish person when it comes to the debates they all have around the dinner table! Medicine in history is not a subject I've researched very much and I think one of the reasons I don't tend to include it is fear of making a huge error. I got caught out once in one of my books, Lord Greville's Captive, when the heroine was in a coma for quite a long time and a reader wrote to me to point out that it seemed unlike she would have survived with the treatment that was available in the seventeenth century. Absolutely. Other than a hero with a gunshot wound in one of my early books, The Larkswood Legacy, I can't think of any other times I've damaged my characters physically!

On the other hand, I do tend to give them much more mental anguish. The heroine of my next book, The Lady and the Laird, has post traumatic stress after a terrifying childhood experience. I researched PTS very thoroughly in terms of the understanding of it available at the time and found it a fascinating topic. But that's a different AAW! 

Patricia Rice

Like Nicola, I'm squeamish about maiming my characters. That could be because I know just enough to be dangerous about the medical profession of the time and can't imagine how anyone survived. So if I'm going to wound anyone, it will be in books like the Mystic Isle books where they had Healers on hand to ease the process with magic. Devil's Lady has a heroine suffering malnutrition and exposure, does that count? And I guess a magically induced coma from my next Jamie Quaid, Damn Him to Hell, probably isn't even accurate in today's terms, much less historically!

So nope, research has never led me to use cheese to heal what ails my characters!

Susan King

Having a weakness for healers and medical situations, I’ve included several in my books. I find this stuff so interesting to research -- and very handy for creating dramatic situations that can affect, define or develop the characters and story. In my first book, The Black Thorne’s Rose, the heroine, practicing her archery skills, accidentally shoots the hero in the thigh—she's a lousy shot, and he's in the wrong place at the wrong time. She cracks off the arrowshaft and later removes the bolt. He’s not real pleased, as you can imagine.

The medieval hero of The Angel Knight has a natural healing ability--and the heroine, imprisoned in an iron cage by the king, is dying. She gets better just by being around the hero--that pesky healing thing he's trying to hide--and I was careful to make sure her symptoms and the medieval remedies were appropriate for the time. The sequel, Lady Miracle, (recently converted to ebook) is my most medically detailed book. The heroine—sister of the Angel Knight--has the same gift, but she is also a trained physician. That was possible, just, because I sent her (in backstory) to Italy.

During the medieval era, women were rarely allowed to practice medicine as physicians—except in Italy. So she was educated in Bologna--the most advanced medicine was practiced in the Arab world then, and the Italian schools were paying close attention, even bringing Arabian physicians into their universities. The heroine’s first husband was an elderly Arabian physician, and she learned well. Once back home in Scotland, she has little chance to use what she knows, and doesn't dare admit her healing gift for fear of heresy. But when the hero, a Highlander and field surgeon desperate to save his ailing niece, comes looking for the lady physician, she finally gets to follow her training as well as her heart.

I got to play with all sorts of conditions and medical treatments—battle wounds (wine poured over an open wound, cautery, and silk thread with steel needles were all in use then), toothache, childbirth, neonatal medicine, polio and physical therapy, even astrology and medicine, were all part of the story. This book was a research challenge, but it was fascinating and fun to write about medieval medicine, all wrapped into a Scottish historical romance.

Mary Jo Putney

I adore damaging my characters!  My very first book, The Diabolical Baron, had a hero, Richard Davenport, who was left with permanent leg damage from a Waterloo wound.  The first book where I did period medical research was my next Regency The Would-Be Widow, now available in a historical version as the The Bargain.  The hero, David Lancaster, was mostly paralyzed and dying from wounds suffered at Waterloo. (He and the hero of the first book were friends and brother officers.)

I was inspired by reading accounts of the battle, including one man who was on the operating table paralyzed from the waist down.  The surgeon removed a piece of shrapnel in the spine that had been blocking the nerves, and the patient promptly got up and ran out of the room. In David’s case, I added over-medication with laudanum, which killed his appetite so he was fading toward death. Just to top it off, after his miraculous surgery, I gave Dave an opium addiction to kick.  It isn’t easy to be one of my heroes. 

David was operated on by a Scottish surgeon and physician called Ian Kinlock, who had an experimental turn of mind and had learned how to use a primitive antibiotic in the moldy bread that he’d gotten from a Polish sailor.  Ian fed it regularly, rather like yeast, so it would keep producing the substance that reduced inflammation rates.  As part of the same research, I read of people who would keep a chunk of bread up in the rafters getting moldy, and they’d use a slice for poultices to treat wounds.  

Probably the most research I’ve done was to figure out how to do a primitive blood transfusion for Shattered Rainbows.  My hero, Lord Michael Kenyon, was another Waterloo casualty. (What can I say?  The battle is so very convenient.)  He’d bled out and was close to death when the heroine, a battlefield nurse, suggested to the surgeon, Ian Kinlock (he’s handy, too <G>), that they could try a blood transfusion from her to Michael.  Ian wasn’t keen, but admitted there wasn’t much to lose.  Goose quills were used to transfer the blood, which naturally saved Michael’s life.  Talk about romantic!  Catherine couldn't reveal her love because she was married, but she literally gave him the blood from her veins.

This was pre-internet, so I had to do a lot of digging, include a visit to the Maryland Med Chi library.  I described the technique to a hematologist and a vascular surgeon, both of whom were horrified by the very thought.  But there were some recorded occasions when such transfusions worked, presumably when the blood types were compatible and no killer infections set in. 

One of the nice things about playing God in our books is that we can always make the medical treatments turn out right. 

Joanna Bourne 

My heroine Annique in The Spymaster's Lady does take a bullet out of young Adrian.  True, It was a fairly shallow bullet wound, but then, my heroine was blind. Blind, you say.  How did that go? you say.  

I got into this taking of bullets out of chests because I wanted my Annique to do something competent and heroine-oic.  In the back of my mind there was the memory of how surgeons operate by touch. Operate 'blind' as it were. Interns practice operations on plastic models of body parts, putting their hands inside a sack so they have to work only by touch. That levels the playing field a bit for a blind woman.   

The process of taking a bullet out of somebody hasn't changed all that much in two hundred years.  In 1802, a surgeon might use a scalpel to open a crusted entry wound and forceps to collect the bullet and pluck it forth. Lead shot, the simple medical instrumentation, and the arrangement of muscle and bone are all pretty much the same after two centuries. Technique?  A modern surgeon, with an array of antibiotics at hand, might cut a new pathway to the bullet.  A Regency period surgeon would be apt to use the preexisting entry to avoid 'enlarging the wound' as they would have called it. That's what I have Annique do.

My characters are on the run. It's emergency surgery with no anesthetic--not that there were any great ones around at the time. Opium and brandy were about it, and a couple strong friends to hold the patient down. Speed, as you might imagine, is of the essence if you're poking at the innards of somebody awake and kicking. In my bullet-removal scene we do a brief excursion into a sort of hypnosis. It's plausible my characters would have been familiar with this concept. It had been kicking around Europe, more or less disrespectable, for most of the eighteenth century.  

Afterwards, my French heroine left the entry hole bandaged but open to drain, following the best French battlefield practice of the time.

So the weaving of medical history into our historical fiction is important to all of us -- and we've each done our best to make it original, accurate, authentic and interesting!  

What about you all -- do you enjoy reading about historical medicine? And do you prefer more or less detail about the squicky bits? 

And congratulations to Kantu, who wins a book because we chose her question!

Remember -- if you ask a question of the Wenches and if we choose your question as the basis of a blog, you win a book! Easy and fun. So ask away! 

Susan 

Poisson d'avril Winner

Anne here, popping in with a quick Sunday announcement.

Thanks to all those who contributed fishy sounding titles for our April Fools/Poisson d'avril post.

Your clever and fun suggestions gave the wenches a good few chuckles. I said we'd give a prize to the best title suggestion and there were so many good ones, we had trouble deciding on just one, but in the end the decision went to Nancy G for her suggestion "Sweet Savage Sturgeon."

I'll be contacting Nancy to get her address.

Thanks for all the fish.

Lord of Scandal and the Cult of Celebrity

Nicola here. A couple of weeks ago I received a copy of a hardback foreign edition of one of my books, Lord of Scandal, in Polish. I was thrilled to get this not only because it’s always lovely to see an older book making a comeback but also because of the gorgeous cover. (Ben Hawksmoor, the hero of Lord of Scandal, has fair hair but I’m not going to quibble about that because this boy looks BAD which is exactly right for the story. That's why I have posted a big cover!)

Lord of Scandal is a book that’s very close to my heart. It was only my second single title for HQN and it garnered a RITA nomination in 2008. I was writing it at the same time that I was researching my MA dissertation and it was this research into 18^th and 19^th century heroes and celebrity that fed into the book. I thought it would be interesting to dig out some of the things I discovered and talk about them here since the parallels between the cult of celebrity 200 years ago and the one we have now are pretty strong.

The Written Word

Celebrity isn’t a new concept, of course. Roman gladiators were the celebrities of their day. By the 18^th century the growth of metropolitan society and the spread of literacy meant that gossip about the private lives of people in the public eye could be disseminated much more easily than ever before. Scandal sheets, which started as early as Elizabethan times, referred to celebrity gossip as “secret history.” Thus it was that the public was as informed about Nelson’s ménage a trois with Sir William and Lady Hamilton as it was with his naval victories. Journalists were not above hanging out in seedy taverns to pick up gossip from servants over a game of dice or even hanging about in the street outside people's houses to try and pick up some juicy piece of information. 

Self-publicity

 Self-publicity was already going strong. One of the stories I love is about the poet Byron. “I awoke one morning and found myself famous,” Byron said in 1812, after the publication of the first two cantos of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage had brought him instant literary success. However he had been working on his celebrity for years and continued to do so, realising that there was nothing so effective as spinning your own legend. He accompanied the publication of his poem The Corsair in 1814 with a self-portrait complete with exotic headscarf and cutlass, thus identifying himself explicitly with his smouldering piratical hero. Even his departure from England was a piece of theatre as he took a coach that was modelled on Napoleon’s campaigning carriage with the conceit of the initials NB (Noel Byron) emblazoned on the side. 

Horatio Nelson was another man who was skilled at talking himself up. He consciously used the press to create the hero persona that drew him to public attention and acclaim. His decisive tactics at the battle of St Vincent had contributed much to the victory and his daring capture of two enemy ships was seen as the most spectacular moment of the day. But this in itself would not have been sufficient to elevate him to hero/celebrity status – many naval captains had achieved just as much. However Nelson promoted himself by giving an interview intended for publication to Colonel John Drinkwater, an author who witnessed the Battle of St Vincent. He also published a narrative: “Nelson’s Patent Bridge for Boarding First-Rates” (editors take note of the catchy title!) which was a huge popular success.

Public Appearances

Just as the film stars of the modern day turn out to wave to the crowds at premieres and parties, so the celebrities of the Regency age were feted in streets. In Lord of Scandal I feature a curricle race through London and the crowds turn out to cheer on the celebrity contestants. This was based on the idea of people thronging the streets when a Regency "superstar" passed through.

On his return to England in the summer of 1797 Nelson was greeted with public acclaim wherever he went. Success at the Battle of the Nile in 1798 and Copenhagen in 1801 served as further moments that cemented his fame, and each of his victories was celebrated by huge popular demonstrations. Lady Elizabeth Foster described Nelson’s appeal rather well, I think:

"Wherever (Nelson) appears he electrifies the cold English character. Rapture and applause follow his steps. Sometimes a poor woman asks to touch his coat. The very children learn to bless him as he passes, and doors and windows are crowded."

Nor was Nelson the only Regency celebrity to receive such popular acclaim. During the state visit of Czar Alexander of Russia and King Frederick of Prussia in 1814, for example, celebrity-watchers went to ridiculous lengths to catch a glimpse of their heroes, some people renting windows along the route of the Grand Procession, others holding parties in kitchens and basements so that they could peer through the area grating to see the famous visitors pass by. Yet in the same manner as celebrities are sometimes built up today only to be criticised in the press, interest in the Regency celebrities could also wane. Lady Shelley felt that the foreign visitors were ubiquitous and had outstayed their welcome: “Their stay became, at last, a positive nuisance.”

Sporting heroes of the day also used their popularity to generate public celebrity.  George Wilson, famed for his achievements in the sport of pedestrianism, understood the value of publicity and used to advertise his events in advance, selling engravings of himself in action to onlookers. By 1815 he was so famous that when he turned up for a pedestrian event in Blackheath there was such a huge crowd that he had to employ men with whips and ten foot staves to cut his way through the throng, the equivalent of the modern day bodyguard.

 Images

 Cara/Andrea wrote a wonderful blog piece here on how satirical cartoons spread gossip about figures such as the Prince Regent and fed the appetite for scandal. Portraiture was another way in which celebrities could use the visual arts to project an image. There was a growing demand for glamorous and humorous pictures. Sporting heroes such as boxers Jem Belcher and Tom Cribb had their reputations enhanced through the production of tinted drawings like modern day sporting posters.  Opera singers and actresses were celebrated in a similar way. Benjamin Haydon’s portrait of the poet Wordsworth was painted against a backdrop of the mountain Helvellyn – a hero in the setting of his deeds. The artists who painted Nelson were colluding with the subject to present him in heroic guise and burnish his celebrity. The 1798-9 picture of Nelson by Guy Head, for example, paints him at the moment of victory at the Battle of the Nile, “showing a phallic sword thrust suggestively into the furled French colours.” (It always reminds me of the bit in Blackadder when Wellington gives the Prince Regent a gift of a cigarillo case "engraved with the regimental crest of two crossed dead Frenchmen emblazoned on a mound of dead Frenchman motif." Not subtle at all.)

The meaning of the portrait could scarcely be more obvious and was no doubt immediately understood by every Englishman who saw it. In a further twist on the phallic symbolism, Nelson gave the painting as a personal gift to Emma Hamilton.

The fame of most Regency celebrities was based on accomplishment, whether military, sporting or other. It that respect it could be said to have a greater intrinsic worth than some modern day celebrity, though it could also be argued that the fame of Beau Brummell, for example, based on his skill as an arbiter of fashion, was no different from that of a top model today. As for the beautiful Misses Gunning, a comparison with reality television might be drawn when a crowd turned out at an inn one night simply to watch them eat. 

Do you have a favourite Regency celebrity or a public figure from the period who particularly interests you? I’m offering a copy of Lord of Scandal (in English or Polish!) to one commenter. (And here's another gorgeous Polish cover, this time for Deceived. I like them so much I couldn't resist posting it up.)

 

 

Regency women's clothing

Jo here, talking about clothing again. The reason is that I'm in the process of e-pubbing the early Company of Rogues books, and it's really hard to find good period images in stock photography. People are doing photo shoots for covers, but the clothes are rarely right -- if they're on at all! The images used by mainstream publishers are rarely any more authentic.

The women usually look more authentic than the men because a high waisted gown is easier to find than accurate men's clothing. However, my search and some on line discussions has made me aware of how limited our vision of the Regency look is. Almost always it's a slender high-waisted dress with short puff sleeves and little trimming or lushness in the fabric. We wouldn't think one style correct for today, and it wasn't back then.

So here's a collection of genuine Regency images. (You can click on any to enlarge.)

You'll see that in general they are very full, not slim fitting like a '60s empire waist dress.

 Note that short sleeves aren't essential.

 Note the layers and trimming. For any sort of special occasion the look is complex.

 This is a simple dress from early in the 19th century,but again it's full and with detail around the shoulders.

 This grouping shows the variety, but also the love or ornamentation and accessories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1814, and slim fitting, but classical simplicity? I don't think so! Sometimes I have to remind myself that fashion images don't always reflect what real people wear.

 

 

 This is German, which might make a difference, and from about 1818, when fashion was completely abandoning classical simplicity! But I like this one for Beth from An Unwilling Bride, because she looks a bit sadly overburdened with grandeur. I gave it to the publishers as a general idea, and they did use it in a way.

 So I'm just saying that it would be great if the gowns used for photo shoots of any kind had a lot more fabric in them, and a lot more trimming.

Which look is most Regency to you?

Which do you prefer?

If you could buy it off the shelf, which would you choose to wear to a Regency event?

I'll give a copy of An Unwilling Bride -- the new version -- to a randomly picked commenter.

Cheers!

Jo

Mary Hart Perry on What Makes a Hero....Heroic?

by Mary Jo

I’m delighted to welcome back author Kathryn Johnson, today in her guise as Mary Hart Perry, author of romantic Victorian thrillers based on the real lives of Queen Victoria’s daughters.  Wench Susan interviewed her about the first Mary Hart Perry book, The Wild Princess, which featured the rebellious Princess Louise.

Now the second book, Seducing the Princess, features Victoria’s youngest daughter, Princess Beatrice, and the book has Mary Hart Perry pondering what makes heroes heroic.  Her thoughts:

Mary Hart Perry

I've been giving this question a great deal of thought lately. Some writers admit that they model all of their heroes after a single image in their minds--the "perfect" man. But perfection is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? What may seem ideal to one woman, may be totally unappealing to another.

I'm discovering this is true even as I work my way through the third book in my series of romantic Victorian thrillers based on the lives of Queen Victoria's daughters. The second novel (Seducing the Princess) has just been published, and the first (The Wild Princess) came out last fall. In the third, my hero is unlike either of the other two men who woo Princesses Beatrice and Louise. And yet they share certain characteristics that appeal to me and, I hope, to my readers.

For me, the ideal hero is a blend of characteristics. First, he must be intelligent. Yup, that's right. I'm likely to pass by a guy who's so fantastic looking that women get whiplash when he passes through a room. I've learned that guys who depend upon their hunkiness to get women usually are all too aware of their looks and expect us to fall at their feet. Something inside me rebels at that. I want to be thought of as special, not just another fling. So if he's got brains and he can hold up his end of an interesting conversation, I'm likely to hang around for a while. That's what I like about Henry in Seducing the Princess. He's a clever guy, and he uses his head to win the woman of his dreams. But neither is he squeamish about taking on his enemy in a physical way, to protect Bea.

I'll give you an example from real life that I've never told anyone before. When I was much younger, I had an immense crush on political pundit, George Will. (Don't laugh!) Seriously. I know he wasn't cover model gorgeous. With his nappy college-prof jackets and horn-rimmed glasses and conservative haircuts, he didn't look like a beefed-up romance hero. But I could listen to that man forever! Because, while he spoke, there was that mysterious, playful twinkle in his eyes that made me suspect he was a lot more fun than he wanted to let on to the world. (Like in bed?) Was he saving that fun for a special lady? I imagined it might be (gulp)...me!

So brains turn me on, and I'll bet they throw the switch for other women, too.

What else? Okay, to be honest--money. Or, at least, the lack of a need for me to have money. My fantasy lover is so smart, he's made his million by the time he turned 25...or at least before we met. And he's generous with his fortune. He would be thrilled to take me on a whirlwind tour of Europe or invite me to cruise with him on his yacht in the Virgin Islands. I suppose this is a natural, given today's economy. We all are super-conscious about our budgets. But wouldn't it be lover-ly (as Eliza Doolittle sings in My Fair Lady) to have someone provide for us whatever we need or want--food, clothing, jewelry, travel...?  So my heroes are likely not to have money problems and will never beg for loans from my heroines. In Seducing, my hero is one of four brothers and a prince in his own right. He isn't ostentatiously wealthy, and actually his family is less well off than the queen and her family. But it's pretty clear that he will always have enough cash on hand to take care of his beloved and, perhaps, afford the occasional yachting adventure or diamond bracelet.

The third trait I find necessary for my heroes is that they are nice guys. Truly. If they have a bad-boy image, it's because no one really understands them, or they have cultivated that image for a purpose. A guy who's cruel, arrogant, pushy, selfish, prone to jealousy or needs to always be the boss to be happy...he's not one of my heroes. In The Wild Princess, the hero seems at first self-important and aloof, but there's a good reason for the way he is. And eventually Princess Louise discovers how to break through that barrier. Besides being quite a good guy in many other ways, he's physically very impressive and darn good at saving lives.

Finally--oh, all right, I give up--there's the way he looks. So it's not at the top of my list but appearance still matters. The difference is, perfection still doesn't appeal to me. My ideal hero will have one or more striking aspects--tall, muscled, a super dresser, whatever--but he's not rock-star gorgeous and may well have flaws that would make him less attractive to other women. In a word, he's unique.

The hero I'm developing for my third book in the Victorian series isn't wealthy, titled, or a hunk in the traditional sense. But he's dedicated, aggressive when it comes to doing his job (tracking down a notorious murderer of women), and he "gets" the heroine. Whereas others don't understand her and can only feel sorry for her, thinking she has no future--he recognizes her talents, intelligence, and beauty.  And he's smitten.

MJP: Which princess is the heroine of the third book?  Inquiring minds want to know!

MHP:  In Book 3 of the series, Crown Princess Vickie returns to London at the urgent request of her niece, Princess Maud, whose brother has just been accused of being the infamous serial killer, Jack the Ripper.

So there you have it. Heroes--at least the way I look at them.

I'd love to hear your favorite 3 or 4 traits for your fictional (or real-life) heroes. Come on...give it a go! 

Hugs, Mary Hart Perry

Thanks, Mary/Kathryn!  Book 3 sounds like another great story.  Isn't it fortunate that Queen Victoria had such a passel of daughters for you to work with?!!  Here are some excerpts of Seducing the Princess if you'd like a taste!

Mary Jo, adding that the bride above is Princess Beatrice in her gorgeous wedding gown

 

Guest Mary Hart Perry

Ever wonder what makes a hero heroic? Tomorrow, April 8, Mary Jo Putney asks that question of guest Mary Hart Perry, and Ms. Perry offers her insights into the makings of a hero. What appeals to one reader may not appeal to another. Is there a middle ground? Are there some basic traits all heroes must posses? Come join the discussion, and share your own must-have traits for a hero! 

Teresa Grant on Love, Loyalty, Betrayal . . . and Paris!

Cara/Andrea here, I'm delighted to have my good friend and fabulous author Teresa Grant visiting the Word Wenches today to talk about her Regency-set mystery series, which is set against the backdrop of political and social upheaval as Europe struggles to reorder itself after over a decade of brutal warfare. The attention to historical detail and descriptions of real-life people are wonderfully rendered in her books—which should come as no surprise given her stellar scholarly background in history. Teresa studied British History at Stanford, and received the Firestone Award for Excellence in Research for her honors thesis on shifting conceptions of honor in late fifteenth century England.

The third book in the series, The Paris Affair just released last week (you can read more about it here) so I asked Teresa to chat with us about the the era and why she finds it such a compelling period to write about. So, without further ado . . . 

Your books are not only compelling mysteries but also explore the complex psychological struggles of men and women trying to define their personal moral compasses in a world torn apart by the chaos of conflict. Can you talk a little about why you chose the Napoleonic Wars as a backdrop for your stories?
There are so many wonderful opportunities for spy stories in this period. I love spy stories, both James Bond adventure and the sort of intricate chess games and moral dilemmas John le Carré dramatizes so brilliantly. The Napoleonic Wars offers are a wonderfully rich setting for both types of story. So many different sides, so many different factions within sides. The French under Napoleon had been bent on conquest, but they had also brought much-needed reforms to many countries. Some liberal Spaniards saw supporting the French in the Peninsular War as the quickest route to progressive reform. And after the Napoleonic Wars, a number of the victors wanted to turn the clock back to before the French Revolution  and saw any hint of reform as one step away from blood in the streets. Friends easily melt into enemies and back again. Napoleon’s longtime foreign minister Prince Talleyrand  later became prime minister under the Bourbon restoration, Joseph Fouché who had been ruthless in using terror against enemies of the Bonapartist government was equally ruthless in going after Napoleon’s supporters who were proscribed from the amnesty after Waterloo. In the midst of breakneck adventure, a love affair can have political consequences, a tactical decision can shatter a friendship, it can come down to a question not of whether or not commit betrayal but only of who or what to betray.

Book Hoarder

I have been collecting books my entire life, and I won’t tell you how many decades that covers. I still have illustrated nursery rhyme books my great-aunt gave to me in pre-school days. You do not want to pry out of my hands that tattered volume with words underlined by my three-year-old self as I painstakingly figured out how to read on my own.  Up until this last move, I still owned the torn and yellowed paperbacks from my teen years of Bradbury, Asimov, and of course, Erich von Daniken with my treasured ancient alien theories.

When I first started earning money with my writing, I collected beautiful boxed and illustrated classics.  My intent was to pass on to my grandchildren the library that I had wanted when I was a child. By the time I could afford to buy those expensive  volumes, I’d already read most of them, but over the years, I’ve read and re-read treasured stories. The complete collection of Shakespeare alone has been invaluable.

Hot new publishing trend

Anne here, bringing up a discussion we wenches had recently, about a hot new trend in publishing that's caught our attention.

It started with a discussion about whether readers were as demanding of hot sex in romance as publishers seem to think they are. As one wench said: "Maybe, because there's very sexy bestsellers in Romance, editors are tempted to make everything sexy.  Maybe readers have come to expect this."

A second (very experienced) wench said: "But of course. How else is it done? (she asks in wide-eyed editor mode.) I do have a teeny bit of sympathy. The concept of one-off successes is very hard for them to take because they, like us, would love to find some logic in this chaotic "business.

"The whole thing is a lottery and books they love wither while ones they think schlock hit the big lists, so they learn quickly to try to tip the odds by following trends. It might help, and more importantly, they have an escape. "But I loved the book" can be translated as having warped judgement, but she'll do better with, "Fishermen romances are so hot now. Don't you remember Heavenly Haddock, Blissful Bream, and Carnal Cod?"

The wenches were well and truly hooked by this remarkable insight. "Heavenly Haddock, Blissful Bream, and Carnal Cod?" we all gasped. "Can this be true?"

Yes, indeed! Turns out hot fishermen are the latest trend in romance, folks. Who'd have thought it? Presumably it's part of the eco-renewal trend, the return to more nature-centric romances — fewer resource-wasteful billionaire heroes and dukes afraid to get their feet wet for fear of ruining their boots, and more of the salt-of-the-earth—or in this case, sea—heroes.

And I'm happy to report that after some wenchly discussion, we've all agreed to come on board to support this exciting new trend — it's vital to be ahead of the game, you see.

Wench Jo Beverley was first to produce a story for this exciting new trend, with DevilFish — a RITA winner if ever I saw one.

Wench Susan has penned a tale called Hot Highland Herring ... When Lady Anna Bass stays at a mysterious Scottish castle for the summer, she encounters the estate's irresistibly handsome fish and gamekeeper, Hugh MacFeshie -- who seems determined to lure the beautiful earl's daughter, body and soul, into the depths of the river, where secret treasure - and a dangerous legend -- calls to both.

Wench Andrea pondered a story called The Blue-Blooded Bluefish but later renamed it The Seductive Salmon. Note the beautiful marine setting for the story. 

Wench Pat has, in her usual canny fashion, cleverly whipped out an electronic version of The Trouble With Trout and Catfish already.

Mary Jo, who is way ahead of us all, having married a pisces and being a crab herself, initially toyed with a tale called The Elegant Eel (dabbling in erotica) but has settled on the more romantic Soul of My Sole.

Nicola's Edwardian-set romances are, of course, ideal to be a leading part of this trend and to that end she's written The Last Hake in London. She also adds that she's a huge fan of that all time classic Lord of Flounders.

As for myself, as usual, I'm still dithering between possible titles, but I'm tempted to go simply for The AngelFish Bride, the latest in my "Brides of the Deep" series, about four young women, all dedicated pescatarians who discover love and romance among the trawlers and the docks.

Lastly wench Joanna, author of the wonderful book The Black Haddock, would like to point out that April Fool's Day in French is poisson d'avril -- the fish of April. <g>

On April 1, the French stick little paper fish on people, sort of like "kick me" signs. . .

So what about you? What fishy romances would you like to see published? Lord of Flounders? Pikes and Prejudice? Flounders From the Storm? Whiting, My Love? We'll give a prize to the best suggestion.