Word Wenches

What We're Reading in July

Nicola here, introducing the July What We're Reading. We all love this feature as we get so many wonderful book recommendations as a result. We hope you enjoy it too. If, like me, you're going away in a few weeks time and are looking for the next read to take with you, or if you have already been indulging in some holiday reading, this is the place to share!

Joanna:

Only one book to recommend this month. It's been a busy time altogether. The RWA National Conference was a mad, lovely, exciting week. The rest of July was spent madly writing.

Still, I did get to read Robin McKinley's, The Hero
 and the Crown. It's a YA that won the Newberry Medal a few years back. A princess despised and distrusted by her people steps outside their expectations and becomes a strong and magical warrior who saves the kingdom. The book is about choices and strength and what these cost.

McKinley has been a favorite of mine since I read Sunshine, her YA-vampire-not-quite-a-romance. A lovely book.

Pat:

I’ve been cruising the high seas and spending more time in the moment than reading, apparently. And I watched movies on the plane! But here’s a couple of books I can recall.

Axeman’s Jazz, Julie Smith—a mystery rich with gritty New Orleans atmosphere. The heroine is a very good, very determined cop which gives a nice spin on the usual types of humor found in hapless female detective stories. The story includes lovely layers of satire on New Orleans society— the killer is picking off attendants of 12-step programs, which to the detective’s dismay means that half the city is a potential victim.

Meredith Duran, Fool Me Twice—I went into this thinking “yawn, another book about a tortured, privileged duke.”  I have a real hard time being sympathetic to dukes who have everything and still manage to whine. But Duran pulls out ALL the stops. She beats this once-decent guy into a puling lump, then torments her innocent heroine beyond reason. Even though I was fully prepared to laugh at the preposterous setup, Duran made me root for both of them. Her emotional and descriptive writing twists the heart and keeps the pages turning.

Off the Reservation, Glen Merzer—if you want a novel that literally goes off the deep end on satirizing politics, try this one. The protag is a Congressman who grabs attention by saying just what he pleases and turns his lunacy into a campaign platform, while claiming over-population is the root of all problems and that there are no solutions. The way to bring honesty back to politics!

Pocket-Sized Pieces of History

Cara/Andrea here, and today I am musing on an often overlooked genre of art—the portrait and commemorative medal, or medallion—which can offer a unique and fascinating perspective on history. The inspiration comes from a podcast done by a good friend of mine, Dr. Stephen Scher, in conjunction with the recent wonderful exhibit at the Yale University Art Gallery on “The Critique of Reason—Romantic Art from 1760-1860.”

Steve possesses one of the finest collections in the world of Renaissance medallions (and a notable array of Regency-era medallions) and he is an expert in the field. (His impressive career in art includes serving as the Chairman of the Art History department at Brown University and a curator at the Metropolitan Museum in NYC.) I found his short talk on Napoleon and his use of the medium for “propaganda” so engaging that I thought all of you would enjoy it too!

But first, a bit of background on the art of the medallion.  Strictly speaking, a medallion is round object that has been cast, sculpted, stamped or otherwise formed—usually out of some form of metal— with an image or words. The “main” side is called the obverse, and the “back” side is called the reverse. While some smaller medallions are meant to be worn, the genre about which I’m discussing are often referred to as “table medals.” They are usually 3-4 inches in diameter, and despite their small size, can speak volumes about the era in which they were created.

According to Wikipedia, the first known medallion was awarded by Alexander the Great to High Priest Jonathan of the Hebrews in thanks for his military aid. Roman and Medieval times saw the art flourish, with rulers and influential people in society commissioning these small works of art to give as gifts to friends and political allies.
But it was during the Italian Renaissance that the art form rose to new heights. Prominent artists of the era created many exquisite images for their patrons, both portraits, which convey a great deal about the personality and sense of importance of the subject, and allegorical scenes, which also give a fascinating look at the subtle messages of power and political jockeying that lay beneath the surface.

The early 1800s saw a resurgence in the art of the medallion. Napoleon understood how what a useful propaganda medium it was and used the notable artist Jean-Louis David to spread his messages across Europe. David is credited with being the foremost practitioner of the time, and after the fall of the Emperor he turned out a large array of ‘celebrity” portraits of the era—including Alexandre Dumas and Eugene Delacroix—which were very popular collectibles among the fashionable set.

Britain also struck its fair share of medallions. A famous example is the commemorative one given to all the sailors who participated in the Battle of Trafalgar. And following suit in the celebrity field, the Art Union League of London commissioned a set of 29 bronze medallions depicting well-known British artists and architects, including William Hogarth.

I hope you enjoy Steve’s podcast. He’s opened my eyes to the beauty of medallions. I love the detailed artistry, and if I had deep pockets, I’d love to collect some of the Regency-era one done by David. What about you? Do you like them? If you could collect anything, what it be? Antique cameos? Fountain pens? Baseball cards? Please share!

Celtic History

I have just returned from a three week tour of what could be called the last outposts of Celtic settlement. (The term “Celt” comes from the Greek Keltoi—meaning barbarian. Since there is no soft “c” in Greek, the word should be pronounced with the hard “k” sound--unless you're a basketball team!)  I understand many archeologists disagree that these coastal communities descend from the same unique tribe, but I don’t draw dividing lines through the centuries. There are strong cultural, artistic, and linguistic links between the coasts of Portugal, Spain, France, Wales, and Ireland. (We didn’t go as far as Scotland, but those links to Ireland are well known) Standing stones abound in all these areas to mark ancient history, and the haunting music of the pipes and rhythmic foot dance might vary but have more similarities than disparities. (photo is a store that sells "brujas" --witches--in Lugo, Spain)

 

Networking

Hi, Jo here, doing a very brief blog from the Romance Writers of America in New York about the Historical Romance Network.

At last year's conference, author Madeline Hunter gathered some authors together to talk about promoting the genre of historical romance, including spreading the word about the diversity of the genre. 

I wrote more at length, but then my laptop gave me an alarming message and I had to shut it down, losing what I'd written. Therefore, I'm going to be brief. And save often!

I'd love your opinion about the historical romance genre.

Can you find the books you want to read, by period, by type, by style? 

The HRN has a web page where you can find various things we've done to try to help readers. I invite you to look at the media and the excerpt books and tell me what you think. Explore and report back!

If you look at some of the videos, did you enjoy them? Did they make you interested in some new-to-you authors?

Remember, you can always read the beginning of a book on Amazon and some other e-book sellers, which can be very useful even if you plan to buy a print copy. 

What's your feeling about the historical romance genre at the moment? What do you pick up from other readers you know? If you're one of our younger blog readers I'd love to know what sort of HRs you enjoy. 

So that's it, and I don't dare go out to get some images in case the computer crashes again, but I think we're all grown up enough to read without pictures!

Basically I want to know all your thoughts about the genre, its past and future.

There'll be a book awarded to a randomly picked commenter.

Cheers,

Jo

 

 

 

The start of the Conference Season!

Nicola here, fresh back from this year’s UK Romantic Novelists’ Association Conference. I love the RNA’s annual conference and this one, held in London, was very popular, very successful and a wonderful way of meeting new writing friends and catching up with old ones.

In conference terms the RNA Is fairly small and this year we were staying at Queen Mary University, situated in the east end of London. QMU as it is known has roots stretching back to the founding of the London Hospital Medical College in 1785. In more recent times it was merged with the university college that I attended, Westfield, and with two of the London medical schools. It is one of the top universities in the UK and was named after Queen Mary of Teck, wife of George V although some of the university buildings date from the Victorian period. This is because the site was originally called “The People’s Palace” a philanthropic centre built in 1887 to give the people of the East end of London educational, social and cultural activities. The Octagon Library (pictured below) where we had our conference Gala Dinner, was once the library of the People’s Palace.

Of Dragons and Shadows

"May I come in, St. George?" said the Boy politely, as he paused at the door. "I want to talk to you about this little matter of the dragon, if you're not too tired of it by this time."  -- Kenneth Grahame, The Reluctant Dragon, 1898

Susan here, with a few thoughts on dragons and dragonslayers -- what we call a Wench Classic Post, but revisited and refreshed with new thoughts. I wrote my dissertation study on the iconography of St. George in medieval art, so for years I was surrounded not by stacks of historical romance novels in my office, but by images of St. George – alone, with the princess, on a horse, off a horse, with and without patrons, and of course – images of the dragon.

While I was working on the paper, I kept two Gary Larson Far Side cartoons near my desk as inspiration, along with an assorted collection of postcards and dragon miscellany. And dragons feature on the covers, and in the titles and the stories, of many of the books on my bookshelves. I particularly love them. But what is it about dragons that fascinates us? Dragons and dragon-like monsters
exist in nearly every culture and occur in innumerable myth cycles from cultures all over the world.

Here’s a look at some of the symbolism and a few thoughts on why that dragon has so much appeal --  St. George too, who was pretty hot in the 14th century. A major hero and the subject of many paintings, sculptures, stained glass panels, reliquaries, tokens and other art objects, as well as stories and poems, and of course, intercessory prayers. If St. George could defeat the dragon – and therefore the devil – he was certainly a saint to appeal to in times of trouble.

In most images, St. George is in the act of killing the dragon–-thrusting the spear into its side (religious connotations there), or more commonly, down the poor creature’s throat “to breke its harte” as one medieval text put it. One could feel sorry for the poor dragon, just being its draconian self, doing what it must do, and along comes this guy on a horse . . .  St. George was well established early on as a martyred saint, his martyrdom involving not dragon-slaying, but various tortures and multiple executions that included fire, drowning, beheading, and even being rolled downhill in a flaming barrel.

Somewhere around the 6th century, in Byzantine imagery, he begins to appear with a dragon. In England, he quickly becomes an early favorite saint. Soon images of Saint George contain not only the dragon, but a princess, particularly one in need of a rescue. St. George also pops up in medieval literature, again with the princess. George was a superstar in medieval England and parts of Europe. He’s sometimes paired with the Virgin Mary in images, and sometimes he marries his princess, who, according to one epic medieval French tale, was pregnant before their wedding. In that same account, George is secretly the twin brother of the dwarf Oberon, king of the fairies.

George was one of the few saints, perhaps the only one, to cross over into the truly secular arena. He was the movie star hero of his day, killing dragons and rescuing princesses for the sake of chivalry and adventure rather than religious fervor. Very likely the Saxon English responded to him early on because St. George reminded them of Beowulf and Grendel, and the various Viking and Germanic/Saxon tales that include dragons. They understood and enjoyed George, with his dragon and his princess and his many heroic deeds. Newly Christian Britain retained a pagan flavor in their beliefs (and that still exists today). There are plenty of classical ties too—Bellerophon and Chimera, and Perseus and Andromeda, that can be factored in to the mythic origins of this very old tale.

George was not the only dragonslayer, though perhaps the best-known: there was also Beowulf, as well as Siegfried and Fafnir, Lancelot, Sir Guy of Warwick, Sir Bevis of Hampton, the Archangel Michael –- the list goes on, and expands greatly as one looks at other cultures, Germanic, Norse, Celtic, Chinese, Japanese, and so on. Dragons sometimes appeared, along with sea-monsters, on early medieval maps.

To the medieval mind, dragons represented evil, the devil, sin – negative, frightening, powerful forces to be vanquished and conquered. St. George and other dragonslayers had to call up within themselves the strength, discipline, virtue, faith, and purity necessary to defeat the dark forces of evil. That’s a large part of the dragon mythology, that dark side of the self. Like vampires, werewolves, and so on, dragons too can be what Joseph Campbell called the shadow side of our inner self:

“The nature of your shadow is a function of the nature of your ego...It is the backside of your light side...the monster that has to be overcome, the dragon. It is the dark thing that comes up from the abyss and confronts you the minute you begin moving down into the unconscious.”

But dragons can have a positive side too. They have some flexibility. They can even be cute ‘n cuddly—like a stuffed toy dragon. They’re often depicted in stories as wise, even humorous, and as guardians and protectors rather than chaotic destroyers.

In Praise of Porches Revisited

by Mary Jo

Being crazy busy, I thought I'd invoke Wench Privilege to run a classic blog, and I came across this, one of the earliest blogs I ever wrote way back in 2006.   I decided to update it with new pictures, mentioning what has changed, and what has not.  

One of the signature features of newish American homes is the deck—a broad sweep of wood on which one can slap mosquitoes, dodge wasps, burn slabs of animal flesh over a grill, and wreck one’s skin.  From which description you may correctly deduce that I’m not a big fan of decks.  <g>

When I moved into this house 13 (now 22!) years ago, it was in possession of a small deck that was a very nice staging area for my pots and pots of flowers.  I am by no means the gardener that Jo and Pat are, but I grew up on a farm and I take deep, rather mindless pleasure in watering my flowers and pinching off the dead blossoms and generally maintaining at least a minimal connection with nature.

But I never, ever, actually sat on that deck.  Being right by trees, it had way too many bugs, and since I’m a pasty Anglo-Saxon who hates sitting in the sun, it was too hot for most of the summer.  (I have now reached the age where all that youthful sun-avoidance is paying off.  Who knew that not playing the “my tan is darker than your tan” game would have such benefits? <g>)

Since the original deck was in the process of slowly falling to pieces, I spent years trying to decide what to do about it.  A screened porch would be lovely—I adored sitting on a friend’s screened porch and admiring the squirrels and relaxing without bugs or sunburns.  But a screened porch would eliminate my summer flowers and winter bird feeders.

Last summer, I finally figured out how to improve and upgrade my connection to the great outdoors: make it bigger.  Through pure luck, I found a fabulous remodeler who was looking for a smallish project to fill in some time, and he built me a small but beautiful screened porch with a narrow open deck extension just big enough for my flowers and birdfeeder.  Plus, he installed a window in the dining room so I could see my birds and flowers.   (What’s the point of flowers if you can’t see them???)

I adore my screened porch.  I bought some ultra comfortable chairs and added good lighting and whenever feasible, I like to sit out there and read and enjoy the breeze and trees.  Or maybe read research books after finishing the newspaper.  

The ideal is what the Mayhem Consultant calls “Goldilocks weather”—not too hot, not too cold, but juuuuuust right.  Naturally the weather doesn’t always cooperate, but with fleece throws stored in a porch cabinet and a ceiling fan, I can expand the acceptable temperature range quite a bit.

But my lovely porch is by no means free of distractions.  My favorite are the rare hummingbirds who buzz by like hyperkinetic little green helicopters.  Very fond they are of my red and purple flowers.  Once I heard a slight sound and looked up to see a tiny goldfinch perched sideways on the screen about 18” above my head, its feathers lemon bright.  Most of the other birds are what they call “common birds”—robins, sparrows, maybe a cardinal or nuthatch—but that’s okay, I’m pretty common, too, and I love watching them darting and chattering in the white pines that almost touch the porch.

UPDATE:  Sadly, I no longer have bird feeders because after prolonged battle, the squirrels won.  The furry little marauders would attack the bird feeders and scatter all the seeds within hours, leaving none for the birds.  I don't mind so much the squirrels having some, but I hated the way they despoiled everything.  To avoid a nervous breakdown, I surrendered.  No more bird feeders, so now there are fewer birds.

The sliding door to the living room has to be kept open six inches no matter what the heat so the cats can come and go.  Grady likes to sprawl on the table top, master of all he surveys.  Lacey slinks out like a furry serpent, her green eyes darting in all directions as she looks for threats.  They both go into a kind of holy trance when they see chipmunks, which the cats probably define as “lunch.”  <g>  They aren’t as interested in the squirrels, who must look too much like a fair fight.

UPDATE: The cats have changed. Sweet Grady is gone and Lacey, who is quite the old girl now, seldom comes outside anymore.  But Grady was replaced by three other rescue tomcats, and they all love it out here!

Interestingly, since I acquired my screened porch, I find that many, many people really love screened porches, but most of the time, they don’t have one.  They have decks. <g>  A friend said she’d love a screened porch, but screening in part of her deck wouldn’t look good, so she’ll stick with her deck, which she never uses.  Me, I'll go for comfort and convenience every time.

The writing life has its downsides, as all jobs do.  Cash flow can be grim, one works in a business that defines the term “thin ice,” and one spends most of one’s time either writing, thinking about writing, or feeling guilty about not writing.  <g>  But there are some really major pluses, too.  And one of them is being able to work on one’s porch.  

Mary Jo, who actually wrote this inside on her desktop because it’s HOT out there.

MJP UPDATE 2015:  Today is Goldilocks weather!  The Mayhem consultant and I enjoyed coffee, ice cream, and a nice bit of reading after supper in the company of the three tomcats.  And when I was watering the deck flowers, a hummingbird buzzed by.<G>

Are you a lover of porches?  Particularly screened porches?  Or do you prefer decks, or perhaps nothing at all?  Let me know your preferences, and I'll give an ARC (advance reading copy) of my September book, Not Always a Saint, to one person who comments between now and Saturday midnight.

Mary Jo

The Write Place

Cara/Andrea here, This month is my turn to host our regular "Ask A Wench" feature. Now, as many readers are very curious about where writers meet with their Muse, I decided to answer that general query by showcasing where all of us write. (As we shared the photos on our private loop, they provoked much humorous debate on the virtues of Neat versus . . . um, Not So Neat.) So, here's a a peek at our private spaces (click on the images for a larger view). . .

Anne:
I write in several places -- my office, my local library where I write by hand, and in bed sometimes. The main one is my cluttered (and messy) little office, lined with books — behind my computer you can see several shelves of some of my childhood books, including a shelf of Georgette Heyer novels. It started off as a temporary "bricks and planks" bookshelf of the kind I had in various student houses, and I intended to have proper shelves built, but the bricks and planks have been there for many years now.

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About ... The Waltz.

Let's start at the very beginning.

Actually this looks like fun

Where did the waltz come from?
Back to pretty much the dawn of history, Rural folk frolicked in their traditional folk revelries with pair dances and circle dances and line dances  of all kinds. This stuff that doesn't get into the archeological record. Literate folk saw no reason to record the details.
But we have pictures.

A Contre Dance Allemande

Polite ballroom dances like the waltz evolved out of this madness.

So did "country dancing", which was what they were doing in English assembly halls and ballrooms in late Eighteenth Century to early 1800s. These were not so much "country" as in 'I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool' but "Contre". Contre-dance — highly mannered French group dance. Kinda like . . . well . . . square dancing.

Here's an example of a country dance. See Darcy and Elizabeth talk while they dance. That's a conversation all snipped up and intermittent, isn't it?

But country dances were also somewhat like this on the right.
Touching goes on. Arms around waists. Side to side touching. Emotion. "All the feels", so to speak. Hubba hubba.
Dancing madness in a contre-dance.

In 1806 Waltzing sneaks in

Anyhow, those wild and crazy Europeans waltzed in their ballrooms long before the dance leapt the Channel. Ye Staid Old English considered waltzing risqué in 1790 and 1800. A man touching a woman's body with only four layers of clothing in between? His hand resting on her back! Horrors!

Many a waltz sneaked in under the radar in the early years of the century.Not quite quite dancing. Vulgar dancing.

 

But so much fun. By 1810 to 1812, social leaders like the Countess of Shaftesbury and the Duchess of Devonshire played the waltz at their balls.  The waltz had arrived.

In 1810 a man could write,  

"To see so many lovely and elegant young women moving with grace and activity, their charming faces light up with pleasure, and their eyes sparkling at the admiration they excited, was, to an old fellow like me, a sight truly delightful, though I could not help agreeing with Werter, who said, his wife should never dance a waltz."
                                   the Royal Cornwall Gazette (17th November 1810).

The wild, wild waltz

In 1811,

". . . he passes his arms along hers, and holds her by the elbows; she does the same to him; and when the dance begins, he dances round with her, turning towards the left . . . , If there be room enough, the Gentleman holds his partner by the tips of the fingers. Certainly the dance now in question is danced in a far different way among the inferior orders of society, as they hold each other tight by the middle, and thus in each others embrace go round like whirligigs."
         Morning Post in 1811

Elbow holding. What is the world coming to?

So why was the waltz so shocking to contemporaries?  Maybe not so much what managed to get touched . . . but for how long.  I think, the uneasiness was about extended physical connection. Long eye contact. Maybe even the chance to hold an uninterrupted conversation.  Radical idea, men and women talking.

The somewhat less wild waltz

A contemporary said, "it is susceptible of degrees of personal familiarity which render it liable to gross abuse."
Who shall disagree?


What's your favorite dance to do or to watch? English Country Dancing? American Square? Clogging? Irish Dance?
One lucky commenter takes home their choice of one of my books.
 

 

Introducing Kate Forsyth

Anne here, introducing Dr Kate Forsyth, who I first met at a Romance Writers of Australia conference, where she was speaking. I hadn't read her, so before the conference I bought one of her books, Rhiannon's Ride, loved it, and immediately glommed everything she'd written. She's a multi-award-winning author who's written for kids, young adults and adults, and is currently writing historical/fantasy fiction inspired by fairytales.

Her book BITTER GREENS, a reworking of the fairy tale, Rapunzel, was awarded the 2015 American Libraries Association prize for Best Historical Fiction, and was listed as Library Journal (US) Best Historical Novel, as well as many other awards.  THE WILD GIRL is about Dortchen Wild, who grew up next door to the brothers Grimm and told them some of their most powerful and compelling stories. It's already garnering some wonderful reviews, including a starred review from Booklist.

Mothers and sons

. Jo here, pondering mothers and sons in historical romance, in part because the heroine of my MIP, The Viscount Needs a Wife, keeps mentioning or thinking about the subject.

Also,  two things came at me in close succession, and got me thinking. Why don't the heroes of historical romances have deep bonds with their mothers?

So, first question -- am I wrong? Do you know any historical romances in which the hero has a deep bond with his mother that plays a part in the book?

Let me explain the two things that caused my pondering.

The first was an article about Dorothy Dunnett's writing, which reminded me of the emotional intensity, and the complexity of her character Lymond.You can read the article here.

The second was a reminiscence piece on the radio about World War 2 soldiers who returned to Jersey after the war. The Channel Islands were the only part of Great Britain occupied by the Nazis. Click on the link for more about that.

The Brides of Waterloo

Nicola here! Today it is my very great pleasure to welcome to the Word Wenches three fabulous Regency authors who have collaborated on a trilogy to commemorate the 200^th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. Louise Allen, Annie Burrows and Sarah Mallory are the best selling authors who have joined together to write linked books to celebrate the heroes who fought and the women they loved. The trilogy is based on the real-life story of the artillery unit led by Captain Mercer who held one of the most hotly contested sections of the British line, and the love stories unfold in the authentic setting of Brussels society and the field of Waterloo before, during and after the battle.

Now it’s over to Annie to tell us about the background to the Waterloo Brides! Welcome to the blog!

Thanks for inviting us to your blog to talk about our brand new mini-series from Harlequin "Waterloo Brides".

When Sarah Mallory and Louise Allen contacted me, asking if I'd like to join in the project they were planning, to commemorate the 200th anniversary of that iconic battle, I barely hesitated before saying Yes!

For one thing, I absolutely adore writing military heroes - actually, I have to confess I adore reading them, too.  If a book has a navy SEAL or an ex marine hero, I fancy him straight away.  Even before I learn if his eyes are blue, or brown or anything else about how he looks.  He is obviously going to be a Real Man.  He has sacrificially served his country.  Has probably done brave deeds, possibly suffered injury, and will therefore be that irresistible mix of warrior hero, and tortured soul.  At once brave, yet broken.  Needing the love of just the right woman to make him whole again.

So - did I want to write a military hero?  You bet I did!

We warmed up to the series itself by creating the world of Randall's Rogues.  Sarah saw the hero of her book, Colonel Randall, as the creator of a unit of trained artillerymen - the troublemakers from various regiments who are on their last chance before getting hanged.  Or, as Louise Allen put it - a kind of dirty dozen in breeches.

The artillery were, in fact, answerable to the Board of Ordnance, and frequently annoyed Wellington by doing their own thing on the battlefield and on campaign, which was perfect for our purposes!

Before long, Randall's Rogues had not only a motto (Semper Laurifer), a mascot, (a huge, black shaggy dog) and a full complement of men (I could include the spreadsheet here with the names of their staff sargeants, farrier, and smiths!) but also, for aesthetic purposes, a uniform with blue jackets.

And then Louise Allen and I went along to a re-enactors event, to learn as much as we could about camp life (since her heroine is a camp-follower), and because they promised to fire a cannon.

It is one thing reading about the noise of cannon, quite another experiencing it.  The noise of just the one being fired was incredibly loud.  It no longer surprises me that people could hear the cannon fire from Quatre Bras as far away as Antwerp.

 We also saw examples of what a soldier of the time would have carried in his pack. It may surprise you to know (well, it did me, anyway) that soldiers of that time were expected to be clean-shaven, and were supplied with a mirror and razor for the purpose.  You can just see a shaving brush in the picture of kit.

The typical kit for a junior regimental officer would have had to fit into one haversack and two portmanteaux.  In his haversack were clasp knife, fork, spoon, tin mug, and any provisions he might be carrying.  The rest of his belongings were carried in two small portmanteaux, slung on each side of a mule.  In one of these was a uniform jacket, two pairs of trousers, waistcoats (white, coloured and flannel) a few pairs of flannel drawers and a dozen pairs of stockings.  In the other were shirts, cravats, a fitted dressing case, three pairs of boots, two pairs of shoes and a number of handkerchiefs.

All the men were expected to wash regularly and wear clean shirts.  Between the battles of Quatre Bras and Waterloo, many took the opportunity to shave and change their shirts.  Last time I met up with Sarah, we had a long discussion about whether this explained the appeal of soldiers over civilians at that time.  The rank and file not only had regular pay, and a pension if they were invalided out, but also washed more often and wore clean linen.

Shirts were one thing, the jackets another.  Made of wool, they must have been very hot to wear.  When I asked one of the re-enactors about it, he explained that wool was actually very practical.  It would soak up sweat, and then dry out rapidly when removed and hung out to air.

 In these two pictures you can see two ways the soldiers used to air out their damp jackets - in the first, they've used their stacked weapons as a makeshift clothes horse.  In the second, where the highland regiment are preparing for drill, you can just see, outside each tent, a sort of wooden cross - which had been put up specifically for hanging their jackets on.

Cheap dye could pose a problem, however.  In the rain, it could wash out and stain the trousers, which were often white, so that the unfortunate individual in a cheaply produced uniform would end up wearing shades of pink.

Taking care of the uniforms, and keeping their menfolk smartly turned out, in clean linen, provided plenty of work for the camp followers.

 And yet, in spite of learning about the hard work that went into keeping the soldiers looking smart, the perils of wool on a hot day, and cheap dye in the rain, I still think there is something inherently romantic about a Regency soldier's uniform.

Thank you to Annie, Louise and Sarah for giving us such a fascinating insight into their research. They will be dropping in to chat so if you have any questions for them on the Waterloo Brides series or what it was like to write linked books or anything else, post a comment! To get the (cannon) ball rolling we’re asking you who is your favourite fictional military hero?  One reader who comments will receive a signed copy of "A Mistress for Major Bartlett" by Annie Burrows.

Tennis, Anyone?

Cara/Andrea here, and as I'm a little under the gun with deadlines and guest, I am invoking the Wench Panic Rule, which allows us to post an oldie but goodie . . . so without further ado . . .

Wimbledon is in full swing this weekend on the verdant grass courts of the All England Club.. It’s one of the “Grand Slam” events, a quartet of tournaments that are the crown jewels of the sport’s elite competitions. (Remember, I warned you all that I am the resident “jock” of the Wenches.) As it’s one of the grand traditions of a game that often appears in literature, it got me to thinking . . .