Word Wenches

What We're Reading in January

by Mary Jo

Here is the monthly round up of books Word Wenches have enjoyed recently.  I hope you find some new reads you'd enjoy!

Pat Rice here:

Rainy Day Sisters by Kate Hewitt is women’s fiction of the philosophical, emotional sort, except a lot more original than most. There’s a couple of up-and-down romances to keep the stakes high, but the real focus is on the development of a relationship between half-sisters who barely know each other. The younger grew up in the US, the older in the UK, and their only common ground really is their fury at their narcissistic mother. I enjoyed watching their lives grow as their relationship grows. There were a lot of loose threads at the end, obviously leaving room for more stories in the series. This is a well-written, quieter novel you can sink into, enjoy getting to know the people of the small Cumbrian town, and watch the sisters open up and become stronger.

Pigeons in the Park

Pigeon. Or dove.

Joanna here, delving into the nitty gritty of the past. Asking myself what would be familiar to a time traveller dipping into history? What would be stunningly weird?

What I’m  pondering today is pigeons.

Like, “What is a pigeon and why isn’t it a dove?” and vice versa.
One of those cases we have two words for the same thing, really. Kind of comforting to know we're stocked up with synonyms.

 

Background: There are 344 species in the Columbidae family worldwide. They're called pigeon or dove more or less at random. Whenever you think you’ve got some difference nailed down – like pigeons are larger and plumper – you’ll come across some tiny bitty twittering bird in the Far East that’s called a pigeon and category common sense goes flying out the window.

In other zoological news, pigeons are most closely related to cuckoos. Many of us have this problem.

What To Wear In the Rain?

Nicola here, rambling (literally) today on what to wear for a dog walk in the rain and adding in some historical sidenotes. Each day I go out with Angus, our pet Labrador, or April, our guide dog trainee in the inclement winter weather, generally getting soaking wet in the process. This has prompted me refine my outdoor wear to suit the different elements of winter – frost, snow and wind as well as rain – and make sure that I have the right clothes for the right activity, because you know the saying: “There’s no wrong sort of weather, only the wrong sort of clothes.”

On April’s training walks it’s relatively easy as we are walking on paths and pavements and it isn’t too muddy underfoot. Sometimes we’re even under cover! A pair of warm trousers, sturdy shoes and a rainproof jacket is usually sufficient. However, on a walk like that there is the question of whether or not to carry an umbrella.  April is partial to a nice stick and she needs to learn to ignore umbrellas, parasols, and walking sticks when she is working, whether I’m carrying them or we meet someone with one.

The River Sea

by Mary Jo

I'm madly trying to finish this year's book, Once a Laird, so I'm invoking Wenchly Privilege to rerun an older post. Since currently travel isn't happening, I thought it would be fun to go with one of my earlier travel posts, and cruising on the Amazon seems delightfully distant and exotic.  So here we go!  (The colorful straw frogs to the right were centerpieces on the dining room tables.)

These days when we talk about Amazon, we're probably referring to the mega-selling online site, but after visiting the real Amazon, it was easy to understand why Jeff Bezos chose to name his company after the mightiest river in the world. 

The longest river in the world can be disputed--just exactly where do the headwaters begin?--but everyone accepts that the Amazon River is the largest river in the world.

 Statistics abound: the water flow is greater than the next seven rivers combined.  The world's largest drainage basin by far.  The estuary at its mouth is 150 miles wide. The Amazon Basin includes parts of nine different nations. No wonder it's sometimes called the "River Sea."

The Amazon is a distant place of jungle and danger, myth and mystery, and Sean Connery movies.  Naturally the Mayhem Consultant and I wanted to visit. <G> 

For several years, I eyed an Upper Amazon cruise offered by the partnership between Lindblad Expeditions and the National Geographic Society. 

 

 

I'm madly trying to finish this year's book, Once a Laird, so I'm invoking Wenchly Privilege to rerun an older post. Since currently travel isn't happening, I thought it would be fun to go with one of my earlier travel posts, and cruising on the Amazon seems delightfully distant and exotic.  So here we go!  (The colorful straw frogs to the right were centerpieces on the dining room tables.)

These days when we talk about Amazon, we're probably referring to the mega-selling online site, but after visiting the real Amazon, it was easy to understand why Jeff Bezos chose to name his company after the mightiest river in the world. 

The longest river in the world can be disputed--just exactly where do the headwaters begin?--but everyone accepts that the Amazon River is the largest river in the world.

 Statistics abound: the water flow is greater than the next seven rivers combined.  The world's largest drainage basin by far.  The estuary at its mouth is 150 miles wide. The Amazon Basin includes parts of nine different nations. No wonder it's sometimes called the "River Sea."

The Amazon is a distant place of jungle and danger, myth and mystery, and Sean Connery movies.  Naturally the Mayhem Consultant and I wanted to visit. <G> 

For several years, I eyed an Upper Amazon cruise offered by the partnership between Lindblad Expeditions and the National Geographic Society. 

 

 

 

Why Shoot a Butler?

Christina here.  Why Shoot a Butler? is the title of one of Georgette Heyer’s country house mysteries/crime stories. It kind of makes it sound as though a butler isn’t even worth shooting, which is a bit odd! Or maybe that’s just the slant my mind put on it and it wasn’t what the author meant? It did make me think though …

I have just reread all Heyer’s mystery/crime books, and although most of them are ostensibly set during the 1930s (only the last one is after the war), the settings seemed to me almost identical to those of her Regency novels. They all take place either in stately homes or among people of the upper class. The characters are similar to her Regency ones as well – strong alpha males, sensible girls who triumph over the pretty but vapid ones, matrons with decided views on things, etc. And then there are the servants, particularly the butlers, whom I couldn’t help but notice even if the other characters don’t pay them much attention.

An Ode to the Unsung Heroes and Heroines of History

Andrea here, In honor of Martin Luther King Day, a national holiday here in America, I’m going to highlight a wonderful story of a remarkable figure in history, whose contribution to enriching the artistic tapestry of history has long been lost in the shadows.

As I’ve mentioned here before, I love that historians are bringing to light so many people who’ve been ignored by the traditional narratives of history. It’s inspiring in so many ways, and makes the past come alive with all its real textures and colors.

The New York Times has been running a series of articles on some of these unsung heroes and heroines, so I’m going summarize one of them that caught my fancy—the story of George Bridgetower by Patricia Morrisoe. Bridgetower was a biracial virtuoso violin prodigy who won Beethoven’s admiration—and in fact, the famous Kreutzer Sonata was dedicated to him. (You can read the full article here.)

Ask A Wench - The Influence of the Seasons

Nicola here, introducing this month’s Ask A Wench topic, which was sent in by Valerie Moore, who wins a book from me as a thank you. Valerie asks:

“How do the seasons affect your style of writing, if at all?” 

It’s an excellent question and gave us all much to ponder on. Do the seasons affect our actual writing style or is it more that the seasons affect our moods and this affects our writing? Certainly in my case, I find it extremely difficult to write about a season that is very different from the one that I’m in. At the moment I’m writing a book set in July whilst I’m in an English winter. I’m trying my best to remember the heat of the sun and the scent of roses whilst stepping out into the stinging rain and the cold wind. Winter can sometimes bring my mood down as well; that definitely affects my writing if not my style, and makes it more difficult. So here are the Wenches’ thoughts on this ever-fascinating topic, some lovely “hygge” ideas and some wonderful photography of the seasons from around the world.

Who needs happy endings?

 Anne here, having a bit of a rant. There's a strange thing about happy endings — a lot of people think they're rubbish. Not serious. Not real. Not worth reading. Or watching. 

Me, I love happy endings in books and movies. And I get grumpy when I think books or movies are needlessly miserable at the end. Of course I'm not condemning all books and movies with sad endings — only those where I don't think the sad ending is justified.

Most of the comments below should be preceded by Spoiler Alerts. I'll highlight the book or film titles in bold so you can be warned. 

I remember when I was a kid reading Henry Treece's The Children's Crusade. Boy, was that ever a sad ending. It was a story about the religious crusade made by children in 1212,  where hundreds of children left their homes to join a crusade, believing they were sent by Jesus, and that their innocence and righteousness would convert Muslims to Christianity. It ended very badly. Many of the children starved and died along the way, some (the lucky ones) returned home, and others were sold into slavery, believing the ships they sailed in were taking them to the Holy Land. Instead they went straight to the slave markets.

I could cope (just) with that kind of a tragic ending — it was history, after all — and there were important lessons to be learned. But for years I fretted about those children.

But in a lot of fiction people die and bad things happen just for effect, and a book or a film ends badly simply because the writer thinks it will make for a better, more dramatic ending. Or they think it's "more realistic" — as if happy endings are unrealistic.

Sleeping, Dreaming, and Creating

Me, sleeping creatively

Joanna here, talking about one of my favorite things in all the world, aka sleeping. Writing is another thing I’m fond of. There’s a bit of an interconnection between these.

I tend to generate new material when I’m relaxed in the bathtub or lying in bed. I even get good work done in dreams. If I were talking about the creative process I might say I try to sleep a lot.

Let me talk about Coleridge who is a more interesting topic than many of those going

Coleridge in 1795

through my mind these days. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, of  course, is the English poet who gave us such popular thrillers as The Rime of the Ancient Mariner which many of us read in Middle School. It includes the poignant lines

“Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea! 
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.”

As I say, Middle School. This is stuck in my memory forever.

The Wee Lewis Set

Susan here – our Christmas tree is still up, lights still glowing each night, the year has scarcely begun, and it’s been quite the week since New Year’s! Hang on, it’s bound to get better! In that hopeful spirit, and perhaps to dispel some of the cloud of 2020, I’m hanging on to Christmas a bit longer. We had a lovely holiday, even managed to see some family (appropriately masked and distanced, and we even staged Christmas on the Porch in the sunny cold with a few). There were great gifts and lots of smiles, though no hugs this year. Some of the presents are still out where we can enjoy them before they find their various nooks and niches. Christmas and Hanukkah and any holiday gift-giving isn’t just about gifts—the loving, caring thoughtfulness behind them is what matters, makes the difference, lasts a lifetime.

Though some gifts are just so cool, right?! This year my husband surprised me with something I’ve drooled over for a while: a set of Lewis chessmen. And I wanted to share it with you, because here at Wenches, we love Christmas, we love kindness, and we loooooove historical stuff. This set was produced by the National Museum of Scotland, a beautiful reproduction, gorgeous and fascinating. I don’t really play chess (my dad taught me years ago, my husband followed up with more hours of play, but it just didn’t stick) – though I’ll be picking it back up again if just for the excuse to play with these remarkable, adorable little guys, with their serious and perplexed little faces, and their incredible detail. (The photos here are of my own wee Lewis set, not the beautiful museum originals -- and yes, my wee chessmen are seated on a cheese board, since their board had yet to be delivered.)

The original chess pieces were discovered in 1831 at Uig on the Isle of Lewis, Scotland, when a farmer found a horde of little carvings exposed on a beach after a storm. Today, 11 pieces are in the National Museum of Scotland and 82 pieces are in the British Museum, renowned as unique and priceless treasures. An additional piece was discovered in 2019 in the back of a drawer in Edinburgh, purchased in 1964 for a few pounds--the price today of a creamy latte; wrapped in a cloth, stuck in a drawer, forgotten for a generation.

Made of walrus ivory, a few of whale teeth, intricately carved, whimsical, rustic, they are exquisite, tough, and beautiful despite the wear and tear of sand and centuries. The 93 pieces belong to four incomplete sets, which in mix-and-match provide a full two teams for warfare on an outsized board--they are hefty little thugs and royals.

The Epiphany after Twelfth Night

Today, January 6, is Epiphany for most of the Western Church, (Eastern churches use a different calendar) the celebration of the arrival of the Magi and introduction of the Messiah to the world. (image: "Adoration of the Magi" by Lawrence OP )

The Magi, or the Three Kings, are only mentioned in the English translation of the Bible as men who studied stars, presumably astrologers who foresaw the birth of a Messiah. (Or my cynicism speaking—astronomers who predicted the convergence of the planets and wanted to find the best spot to observe, but I could be wrong about that. <G>)

Regency Twelfth Cake!

Nicola here. It’s Twelfth Night today, marking the end of the Christmas festivities (assuming that you count the twelve days from Christmas Day. Some traditions start counting on 26^th December meaning you can keep partying until the 6th!)

There are a number of different ways in which Twelfth Night has been celebrated through the centuries. In the Georgian period they were keen on baking a special cake to mark the occasion. The Historic Food website has some fascinating information on this.

The earliest printed recipe for an English Twelfth Cake appears to date from 1803 and was recorded by John Mollard in his cookery book of that date. Originally the Twelfth Cake contained a pea and a bean and whoever found these in their slice were elected as King and Queen of the Twelfth Night festivities. In the early Victorian period, this tradition developed into “Twelfth Night Cards.” All the guests at the party would be invited to choose a card from a special pack illustrating the different “characters” of Twelfth Night. Along with the King and Queen these might include Sir Bob Bergamot the fop, Fanny Farcical the actress, Priscilla Passion… Well, you can imagine her profession! You then had to act in character for whichever card you had picked until midnight. Allegedly, Queen Victoria eventually banned the Twelfth Night parties for fear they were getting out of hand!

Partying may be banned at present as well but at least we can still eat cake. So if you fancy baking up a slice of Twelfth Cake, the original 1803 recipe is below:

Take seven pounds of flour, make a cavity in the centre, set a sponge with a gill and a half of yeast and a little warm milk; then put round it one pound of fresh butter broke into small lumps, one pound and a quarter of sifted sugar, four pounds and a half of currants washed and picked, half an ounce of sifted cinnamon, a quarter of an ounce of pounded cloves, mace, and nutmeg mixed, sliced candied orange or lemon peel and citron. When the sponge is risen, mix all the ingredients together with a little warm milk; let the hoops be well papered and buttered, then fill them with the mixture and bake them, and when nearly cold ice them over with sugar prepared for that purpose as per receipt; or they may be plain.

From John Mollard, The Art of Cookery. (London 1803).

There is a more modern recipe on the National Trust website.

Alternatively, you may prefer a different sort of Twelfth Night feast? What would your choice of special sweet or savoury treat be to celebrate the last night of Christmas?

Resolved . . .

Andrea here, The start of a new year is the traditional time for reflection and making resolutions for the the coming twelve months. (But of course, the weekend didn't count as the new year yet, as we get a pass on extra holiday frivolities until the start of the first work day of January . . . though the concept of the work day has, like so many traditions, become rather fluid because of the pandemic.)

Anyway, now that I've had an extra three days to scarf up sweets before beginning the spartan dieting of January, I'm now getting serious about what resolutions I'd like to make for 2021. There are a number of things on the list, (one of them being to stop baking so many chocolate chip blondies) but the first and foremost one deals with my writing process, During the pandemic shelter-in-place, I spent a lot more time in my writing room working on various projects, and I had a lot of time to reflect on process . . . or rather my lack of it.

I am a pantser (i.e. I write by the seat of my pants.) I usually have a very good idea of the first few scenes. (I think of this as the Magpie Effect. I see a shiny little bauble—that first cool beginning—and immediately bring it back to the writing nest. Alas, the shine soon wears off and I’m left thinking, why did I ever think this was a good idea?) As a famous director once said, “Good ideas are a dime a dozen. It’s the ‘what’s next” that kills you.”

Now, I do have a vague idea of what’s going to happen in the end. But then there’s that vast, amorphous middle . . . which leaves me making it up as I go along. There are also days when it feels like my characters are making it up as they go along. I sometimes push back from my computer after 8 hours of writing and say, “Hmmm, that’s interesting. I didn’t know they where going to do THAT!” There's a certain degree of spontaneity and "ah-ha moments" when one works this way, It can be fun, but it's also very stressful. There's the inevitable anxiety when things are going slowly.

My brain seems wired to work this way, and I've always sort-of accepted that. However, as I said, there has been a lot of time to think on this, and I'm resolved to try to change some things going forward. I want to push myself to plot and outline with more detail. Seeing all the pieces more clearly will, I think, help me sharpen conflicts and relationships, and maybe tighten my prose. I'm under no illusion that it will be easy. Habit and patterns are really hard to break. But I hope I can challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone. I think I will be a better writer for doing so . . . and my editorial assistants have sharpened their pencils and promised to poke me if I start whinging.

So that's my new years' resolution. Are there any ones—large or small—that you care to share?

Happy Decluttering

Anne here, wishing you a happier new year than last year was. 

For me, it's that time of year again. And no, I don't mean Christmastide, though we're still doing our daily blog. I'm talking about catching the dreaded end-of-year decluttering bug.  It starts when I pack away my Christmas decorations. I always pull some out to go to the charity shop — not my favorites, of course. 

But then I have a small pile of Stuff to be given away (or tossed out) and. . . it creeps. Things get added to it — clothes I haven't worn for ages (this could include most of my clothes as I have been practically nowhere during 2020 Lockdown), shoes I don't wear, gifts I don't want, and more.

This is generally a good thing. I'm a collector of Stuff. Not quite a hoarder, but photos of hoarders on the web frighten me because there's a possibility of that becoming Future Me, if I don't declutter NOW! <g> (By the way, the photo on the right is not of my house — it's a cautionary tale from the web, chosen to frighten me sufficiently to keep me decluttering. *g*)

By the way, there's a great site here about compulsive hoarding, with photos of rooms where you can compare your rooms with theirs and rate yourself. Phew!  I'm nowhere near these. . . though my spare room and office are heading into danger territory. 

This year I'm not simply trying to declutter, I'm attempting to drastically reduce my stuff with a view to moving out of my house. Some stuff will go into storage, but I really need to get ruthless and toss most of it. The hardest thing, of course, is that I'm going to have to cull my books — drastically. I have a huge TBR pile that I've ignored in favor of the one in my e-reader, (and yes, that's it on the left.) I should pass on all those unread paper books — some of which I have already bought as e-books. But what if those ebooks evaporate? Can I make myself give away my paper books? Time will tell.

What about you — is this a time of year when you declutter? Do you err on the hoarder side of things or are you a ruthless declutterer? Any tips for me? 

Turducken?

Turkducken?

By Mary Jo

For today's Christmastide post, we'll discuss turducken .Yankee that I am, I had never heard of this dish until I moved to Maryland, which is south of the Mason Dixon line, though barely.  I vaguely thought it was an old traditional dish from Maryland's Eastern Shore and was popular around the holidays.  It consists of a deboned chicken stuffed into a deboned duck stuffed into a mostly deboned turkey. (Wings and legs kept their bones for aesthetic reasons, I presume.) There is also bread or sausage dressing. In other words, it's one heck of a lot of very solid poultry!

I've never had turducken, but when a nice boutique-ish grocery store near me advertised it for the holidays, I figure what the heck, give it a try.  It was priced by the pound, so I ordered online thinking I was ordering one pound. When I got to the store to collect my goodies, I found that the online store interpreted that as one whole turducken, and here was this huuuuuge chuck of bird.  Urk! The butcher kindly cut it in half for me and it now resides in my freezer waiting for a day when I have the nerve to roast it. 

Naturally I had to research this dish, as one does <G>, and Wikipedia.org informs me that the modern version is attributed to chefs in Louisiana in the mid 20th century, so Southern but not a very old tradition.

However, stuffing one animal inside of another is a very old cooking technique which goes back to the Middle Ages and even Roman times, and is called engastration. A turducken qualifies as a "three bird roast," and the British version is a Gooducken, with a chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a goose, since goose is a popular holiday dish in Britain. 

But there are all kinds of variations using any birds and stuffings you wish. This from Wikipedia: 

 In his 1807 Almanach des Gourmands, gastronomist Grimod de La Reynière presents his rôti sans pareil ("roast without equal")—a bustard stuffed with a turkey, a goose, a pheasant, a chicken, a duck, a guinea fowl, a teal, a woodcock, a partridge, a plover, a lapwing, a quail, a thrush, a lark, an ortolan bunting and a garden warbler—although he states that, since similar roasts were produced by ancient Romans, the rôti sans pareil was not entirely novel. The final bird is very small but large enough to just hold an olive; it also suggests that, unlike modern multi-bird roasts, there was no stuffing or other packing
placed in between the birds.

The mere contemplation of this makes me consider turning vegetarian, but as history it's very interesting, and sounds very medieval! 

Have you ever had turducken, gooducken, or one of their many cousins?  If so, tell me what you think!  Because one day soon I intend to confront the half-turducken in my freezer, and I want to know what to expect!

Mary Jo