In the spirit of the season, I thought that I should note that Richard Felix, who evidently hosts a British TV show called "Most Haunted," spent the night of September 21, 2007 (the 680th anniversary of Edward II's death, as faithful readers of this blog know) in Edward II's cell at Berkeley Castle. Disappointedly, according to this account, Felix said that his night was uneventful. Maybe if Felix had done some midnight roof thatching, Edward II might have joined him?
Other spirits associated with Edward II's reign are reportedly less quiet. Piers Gaveston, Edward II's first favorite, is reported to haunt Scarborough Castle, where his headless spirit reputedly tries to shove visitors off the battlements. (This may simply be revenge for Braveheart.)
Not to be outdone, of course, is Queen Isabella, whose ghost is said to haunt Castle Rising. Some say Isabella shrieks and yells, others that her ghost assumes the form of a wolf. As a Google search will indicate, almost every other site claims that Isabella was shut up by Edward III in Castle Rising for life (which she wasn't) and/or that she went mad (which she didn't). It may be that with all of this shrieking, poor Isabella is simply trying to set the record straight once and for all.
Isabella, in fact, is quite the ghostly go-getter. Not only does she hang out at Castle Rising, she also can be found in London, at the site of her burial place at Greyfriars, where she clutches Edward II's heart. One site claims that a hapless watchman quit his job after hearing her ghost quarreling with that of Alice Hungerford, who was executed in 1523 for killing her husband. Sadly, the site doesn't indicate the subject of the ladies' quarrel. ("No, I hated my husband more!" "Did not!")
Less famously, perhaps, Roger Mortimer's ghost is supposed to haunt Nottingham Castle. Reasonably enough, he lurks in the underground passage William de Montacute and his band used to enter the castle and seize him.
One would think that the Despensers would be good for some hauntings also, but their survivors must have commissioned enough prayers to keep their souls happy and quiet. (Though I confess that when I was at Tewkesbury several years ago, standing near Hugh the younger's grave, some church volunteers dragging heavy objects around put something down with a loud noise. I jumped a good two inches.) The closest I found was this rather peculiar legend about Isobel Chandos, supposedly a lover of Hugh le Despenser who inadvertently led him to be hung at Hereford Castle. Perhaps a ghost that pushes deeds in front of people and tries to get them to sign land over to them just isn't all that interesting?
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
It's Here!
It's here! My sample copy of Hugh and Bess: A Love Story came in the mail on Saturday, and it's now available to order here, either as a trade paperback or as an electronic download. It hasn't gone live on Amazon or Barnes and Noble yet, but I'm hoping it will be within a couple of weeks.It's going to be strange writing a book that doesn't have a Hugh le Despenser in it! My next book is very much in the beginning stages, but it's set in the Wars of the Roses and will likely be narrated by Katherine, Duchess of Buckingham, sister to Queen Elizabeth Woodville and wife to the Duke of Buckingham, the man who helped bring Richard III to power and then lost his head when he joined a rebellion against him. It promises to be fun--especially as it won't have a saintly Richard III. (And Richard III's queen was a direct descendant of Hugh le Despenser the younger and Eleanor de Clare through their second son, Edward, so I won't be totally Despenser-less.)
For you folks who voted in the poll that I should do a book set during the Barons' Wars, don't despair, I may get to that one eventually! But if you voted for the chick lit option, you might have a long, long wait.
Friday, October 26, 2007
I'm So Damn Lucky . . .
I've won the UK Lottery twice today without even having taken the trouble to enter it! And I'm going to be even richer, too, after a nice Nigerian gentleman gives me half of his fortune in exchange for letting him use my bank account.
Really, guys. It's time to come up with some more original scams.
Really, guys. It's time to come up with some more original scams.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Read With Abandon?
From Booking Through Thursday:
Usually when I abandon a book, it's either because the writing style is off-putting or because the characters aren't appealing to me. More often it's the latter. I've abandoned several first-person books simply because the narrators were overly enamored of themselves (as they indeed might have been in real life). Another book I abandoned because the main characters were straight out of a formula romance novel--I could have encountered them just about anywhere and anytime. Another novel got put back on the shelf because the heroine was such a Mary Sue--each time she walked into the room, every man fell instantly in love with her; she always handled every situation perfectly and was showered with compliments from the other characters after doing so, and so forth. And, of course, she was stunningly beautiful. I wanted to kick her and the author.
When I was younger, I used to finish every book I read, no matter how little I was enjoying it. These days, I would never finish, say, Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (I know it's considered Great Art, but the main character struck me then, and strikes me now, as a upper-class twit who would have been immeasurably better for having to work for a living. And a boring upper-class twit at that). Ah, the freedom of being able to put down a book you're hating!
Today’s suggestion is from Cereal Box Reader
I would enjoy reading a meme about people’s abandoned books. The books that you start but don’t finish say as much about you as the ones you actually read, sometimes because of the books themselves or because of the circumstances that prevent you from finishing. So . . . what books have you abandoned and why?
Usually when I abandon a book, it's either because the writing style is off-putting or because the characters aren't appealing to me. More often it's the latter. I've abandoned several first-person books simply because the narrators were overly enamored of themselves (as they indeed might have been in real life). Another book I abandoned because the main characters were straight out of a formula romance novel--I could have encountered them just about anywhere and anytime. Another novel got put back on the shelf because the heroine was such a Mary Sue--each time she walked into the room, every man fell instantly in love with her; she always handled every situation perfectly and was showered with compliments from the other characters after doing so, and so forth. And, of course, she was stunningly beautiful. I wanted to kick her and the author.
When I was younger, I used to finish every book I read, no matter how little I was enjoying it. These days, I would never finish, say, Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (I know it's considered Great Art, but the main character struck me then, and strikes me now, as a upper-class twit who would have been immeasurably better for having to work for a living. And a boring upper-class twit at that). Ah, the freedom of being able to put down a book you're hating!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Keyword Fun
In a spirit of I-really-ought-to-be-blogging, I've just checked an always reliable source of inspiration, the site that lists keywords that people use to reach my website. These two were right next to each other on the list:
Someone needs to settle down with some tea and Jane Austen for a change, I think.
Not sure that I like the sound of that.
There's something almost Zen-like about that one.
What about having a sex night in? Just a thought.
Slash fiction between Richard III and Anthony Woodville? Well, that would explain how Anthony came so readily to meet Richard at Stony Stratford, wouldn't it? So here goes:
hugh despenser and castrated
john tiptoft impaled
Someone needs to settle down with some tea and Jane Austen for a change, I think.
historical romance granddaughter marriage
Not sure that I like the sound of that.
search
There's something almost Zen-like about that one.
sex night out pontefract
What about having a sex night in? Just a thought.
richard iii rivers sex
Slash fiction between Richard III and Anthony Woodville? Well, that would explain how Anthony came so readily to meet Richard at Stony Stratford, wouldn't it? So here goes:
Richard's letter rested in Anthony's trembling hands. Gloucester asked him to meet him near Stony Stratford so that their entrance with the young new king into London might be more magnificent. But was there a hidden meaning? Could Richard be seeking to revive what had happened between them that one night so long ago, that night of forbidden love that set Anthony's senses on fire, just remembering it?
He fingered the hairshirt that he wore beneath his shirt of fine linen. He'd worn it ever since that wild night, in an attempt to forget the desires Gloucester had stirred in him. For a while, he thought he had succeeded. But now, as he held the letter and read in it all of his secret, suppressed longings, he realized that all had been in vain.
Anthony stared at Richard's signature and its motto beneath: Loyaulte me lie. Even it held promise, he thought as he sank into a blissful daydream.
"Soon, my sweet Gloucester," he whispered, "it is I who shall lie with you."
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Bennett Cerf, Eat Your Heart Out
Hugh and Bess now has a shiny new ISBN number: 978-0-6151-7187-6. All I'm waiting on now is finding someone who can help me with the cover art, and it'll be done. Hugh and Bess even has its own imprint, Onslow Press. Here's a picture of the founder in relaxation mode:
Has having a press named for him gone to Onslow's head? I'd say not yet, but this may be because Onslow is already quite fond of himself and needs very little additional encouragement.
Anyway, I rather like this ISBN number. The "6151" has an agreeable symmetry about it, and "7187" has a nice ring also, don't you think?
Has having a press named for him gone to Onslow's head? I'd say not yet, but this may be because Onslow is already quite fond of himself and needs very little additional encouragement.
Anyway, I rather like this ISBN number. The "6151" has an agreeable symmetry about it, and "7187" has a nice ring also, don't you think?
Friday, October 12, 2007
An Infamous Army by Georgette Heyer
An Infamous Army: A Novel of Love, War, Wellington and Waterloo by Georgette Heyer.
Sourcebooks, 2007 (originally published in 1937)
This was my first Georgette Heyer novel, and I'm happy to report that it won't be my last.
An Infamous Army opens in a drawing room in Brussels, in the midst of a conversation between a group of people who know each other very well--some, I understand from reading other reviews of this book, who feature in other Heyer novels. It takes a while to sort out all of them and their relationships to each other, and the effort may be too much for some readers. But perseverance is well rewarded.
The love story here is between Lady Barbara Childe, a young widow with a penchant for shocking high society, and Colonel Charles Audley, who is instantly attracted to her and loses no time in asking her to marry him. They're both vividly realized, and Heyer does an especially good job in making us like Barbara, who could have been irritating in the wrong hands. The supporting cast, including both historical and fictitious figures, is equally memorable.
Heyer has often been mentioned as the author one goes to when one runs out of Jane Austen novels to read. There are indeed some deft turns of prose here, such as this one by Barbara after she becomes the subject of a public snub: "By tomorrow I shall be credited with a sin I haven't committed, which touches my pride, you know. I always give the scandalmongers food for their gossip." Heyer also manages one of the most moving, yet not maudlin, death scenes I have ever read.
Readers expecting a formula Regency romance novel won't find one here; Heyer takes the reader both to drawing rooms and to battlefields, and the cost of the latter is vividly depicted. This is a love story with a punch.
Sourcebooks, 2007 (originally published in 1937)
This was my first Georgette Heyer novel, and I'm happy to report that it won't be my last.
An Infamous Army opens in a drawing room in Brussels, in the midst of a conversation between a group of people who know each other very well--some, I understand from reading other reviews of this book, who feature in other Heyer novels. It takes a while to sort out all of them and their relationships to each other, and the effort may be too much for some readers. But perseverance is well rewarded.
The love story here is between Lady Barbara Childe, a young widow with a penchant for shocking high society, and Colonel Charles Audley, who is instantly attracted to her and loses no time in asking her to marry him. They're both vividly realized, and Heyer does an especially good job in making us like Barbara, who could have been irritating in the wrong hands. The supporting cast, including both historical and fictitious figures, is equally memorable.
Heyer has often been mentioned as the author one goes to when one runs out of Jane Austen novels to read. There are indeed some deft turns of prose here, such as this one by Barbara after she becomes the subject of a public snub: "By tomorrow I shall be credited with a sin I haven't committed, which touches my pride, you know. I always give the scandalmongers food for their gossip." Heyer also manages one of the most moving, yet not maudlin, death scenes I have ever read.
Readers expecting a formula Regency romance novel won't find one here; Heyer takes the reader both to drawing rooms and to battlefields, and the cost of the latter is vividly depicted. This is a love story with a punch.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Why I Am Cranky Today
1) The temperature here today is going to be 94 degrees. This is October. It should be at least twenty degrees cooler. I am still wearing summer clothes, and I hate summer clothes. Especially since I've been wearing them since bloody April.
2) Troy had one Trojan horse. My computer (not the one on which I'm writing this blog) appears to have about a dozen, none of which any anti-virus programs have succeeding in deleting or blocking.
3) I am going to have to find someone to fix my computer. The last time this occurred, the offending file was deleted. Unfortunately, so were all of my other files.
3) The local bridges are not adorned with the heads of the (insert your own description here; this is a family-friendly blog) who created the Trojan horses that have infected my PC.
Ah, for a little medieval punishment for hackers.
2) Troy had one Trojan horse. My computer (not the one on which I'm writing this blog) appears to have about a dozen, none of which any anti-virus programs have succeeding in deleting or blocking.
3) I am going to have to find someone to fix my computer. The last time this occurred, the offending file was deleted. Unfortunately, so were all of my other files.
3) The local bridges are not adorned with the heads of the (insert your own description here; this is a family-friendly blog) who created the Trojan horses that have infected my PC.
Ah, for a little medieval punishment for hackers.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Review: Why We Read What We Read
Why We Read What We Read: Exploring Contemporary Bestsellers and What They Say About Our Books and Ourselves, by John Heath and Lisa Adams. Sourcebooks, 2007.
First, I have a confession: Of the books discussed in Why We Read What We Read, I'm fairly sure that I haven't read nary a one. Not even Harry Potter (though I did peek at the ending of the last one).
Why We Read What We Read looks at a number of categories of bestsellers in the United States: adventure novels, political nonfiction, romance novels, relationship guides, religious books, and literary fiction. Though the authors write in a breezy style when summarizing the books in question, the conclusion they reach is a disturbing one: Americans avoid complex, challenging books in favor of escapist literature or books that fit their preconceived notions about politics, religion, or other contemporary issues. Even best-selling literary fiction, the authors note disapprovingly, tends to end on a hopeful instead of a tragic note.
I came away from this book with very mixed feelings. It's entertaining, and thanks to its summaries of books like the "Left Behind" series and The Celestine Prophecy, I'll never have to read them. It's when the authors turn away from the books themselves and start to draw conclusions about their readers that the book for me began to feel superficial in its insights—ironically, just like the type of books the authors decry here. It would have been useful, for instance, to know what sort of books were bestsellers, say, fifty years ago, to see if American reading tastes have really gone that far downhill or whether readers, at least in the age of mass literacy, have always preferred to look on the lighter side. (As Dickens's Mr. Sleary said in another context, "People must be amused.") Similarly, a comparison of American bestsellers with those in other English-speaking countries might have yielded some insights. And is it fair to draw broad conclusions about American reading habits based on bestsellers without taking into account the many books that never make the bestseller lists, but sell well and steadily enough over time to remain in print long after the bestseller of the day has been pulped? Somehow, I kept thinking that there was a bigger picture out here, one that the authors simply weren't heeding in their rush to judgment.
In addition, some of the authors' conclusions about what motivates readers struck me as questionable. It's probably safe to say that people read diet and exercise books because they want to lose weight. It's probably also safe to say that liberals aren't rushing out to buy books written by conservatives or vice versa. But is it equally safe to say, as the authors do here, that women read romance novels because they're not getting the fulfillment they need from their relationships? Or to suggest that reading romance novels is preventing women from getting out of these unhappy relationships? I read very few romance novels myself, but even so, I found these conclusions to be both facile and patronizing, the more so because the authors never talk to any romance readers or to readers of any of the other genres discussed here. (To be fair, the authors do make use of a study of romance readers by Janice A. Radway called Reading the Romance, but that book, written from a feminist perspective and based on talks with 42 women from the same city, was originally published in 1984 and reissued in 1991; it thus can hardly be called the latest word on the subject.) Here and in the other sections dealing with fiction, I found myself wishing the authors had spoken to live readers instead of going on their own assumptions about their motivations for reading what they do.
All in all, this was an interesting and often lively book, but one that because of its shortcomings failed to convince me of its thesis.
First, I have a confession: Of the books discussed in Why We Read What We Read, I'm fairly sure that I haven't read nary a one. Not even Harry Potter (though I did peek at the ending of the last one).
Why We Read What We Read looks at a number of categories of bestsellers in the United States: adventure novels, political nonfiction, romance novels, relationship guides, religious books, and literary fiction. Though the authors write in a breezy style when summarizing the books in question, the conclusion they reach is a disturbing one: Americans avoid complex, challenging books in favor of escapist literature or books that fit their preconceived notions about politics, religion, or other contemporary issues. Even best-selling literary fiction, the authors note disapprovingly, tends to end on a hopeful instead of a tragic note.
I came away from this book with very mixed feelings. It's entertaining, and thanks to its summaries of books like the "Left Behind" series and The Celestine Prophecy, I'll never have to read them. It's when the authors turn away from the books themselves and start to draw conclusions about their readers that the book for me began to feel superficial in its insights—ironically, just like the type of books the authors decry here. It would have been useful, for instance, to know what sort of books were bestsellers, say, fifty years ago, to see if American reading tastes have really gone that far downhill or whether readers, at least in the age of mass literacy, have always preferred to look on the lighter side. (As Dickens's Mr. Sleary said in another context, "People must be amused.") Similarly, a comparison of American bestsellers with those in other English-speaking countries might have yielded some insights. And is it fair to draw broad conclusions about American reading habits based on bestsellers without taking into account the many books that never make the bestseller lists, but sell well and steadily enough over time to remain in print long after the bestseller of the day has been pulped? Somehow, I kept thinking that there was a bigger picture out here, one that the authors simply weren't heeding in their rush to judgment.
In addition, some of the authors' conclusions about what motivates readers struck me as questionable. It's probably safe to say that people read diet and exercise books because they want to lose weight. It's probably also safe to say that liberals aren't rushing out to buy books written by conservatives or vice versa. But is it equally safe to say, as the authors do here, that women read romance novels because they're not getting the fulfillment they need from their relationships? Or to suggest that reading romance novels is preventing women from getting out of these unhappy relationships? I read very few romance novels myself, but even so, I found these conclusions to be both facile and patronizing, the more so because the authors never talk to any romance readers or to readers of any of the other genres discussed here. (To be fair, the authors do make use of a study of romance readers by Janice A. Radway called Reading the Romance, but that book, written from a feminist perspective and based on talks with 42 women from the same city, was originally published in 1984 and reissued in 1991; it thus can hardly be called the latest word on the subject.) Here and in the other sections dealing with fiction, I found myself wishing the authors had spoken to live readers instead of going on their own assumptions about their motivations for reading what they do.
All in all, this was an interesting and often lively book, but one that because of its shortcomings failed to convince me of its thesis.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
A New Edward II Forum, and a Word From Stripes
First, for all of you Edward II and fourteenth-century fans out there, check out this great new forum by Alianore, for discussions of Edward II and fourteenth-century history!
Second, following Sarah's post on LOL Cats, I put Stripes to work, in a manner of speaking, of course.
Second, following Sarah's post on LOL Cats, I put Stripes to work, in a manner of speaking, of course.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Coming Soon! (With Even a Reappearance by Queen Isabella)
One of the reasons I've been somewhat quiet in blogdom lately is that I've been completing my second novel, Hugh and Bess, which follows the marriage of Hugh, the eldest son of Eleanor from The Traitor's Wife, to Elizabeth de Montacute, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury. I'm in the proofreading stage now, and if everything goes well and I figure out the formatting, it should be available online, probably through Lulu, within a few weeks. (That's a rough version of the cover you see.) It's quite different from The Traitor's Wife, being much shorter (the sigh of relief you hear is coming from my mother) and more of a love story than anything else. In the meantime, here's an excerpt featuring a familiar face. It takes place in early 1344, following a ladies-only banquet at Windsor Castle at which Elizabeth and her sister-in-law Joan of Kent enjoyed the king's wine a bit too much:
The ornate entrance to Queen Isabella's apartments was so different from the simple one to hers and Hugh's that no sober person could have mistaken the two. A page showed her in, and Bess sank to a curtsey, though every bone she had resisted. She spoke the words that she had been rehearsing since Hugh had given her the news. "Your grace, I beg your pardon for my inexcusable and disgraceful behavior last night. I assure you it shall never happen again."
"Inexcusable and disgraceful? Ridiculous will do, Lady Despenser." The queen waved her to a stool. "Sit there. You brought some needlework with you, I see? Show it to me."
"It is for our portable altar, your grace."
"Very pretty. You work very nicely. Don't look so frightened, child. I didn't call you here to upbraid you. So you are wondering, no doubt, what did I call you here for?"
"My head aches so badly, your grace, I could hardly figure it out if I tried."
Isabella laughed. "Well, it's no mystery, Lady Despenser. You are the eldest daughter of my son's favorite earl and wife to one of the wealthiest men in England. It would be remiss of me not to take some notice of you." She settled back with her own work. "I gather you haven't been to court much."
"No, your grace. I have mostly stayed on my father's lands and now my husband's."
"And you have visited your husband's aunt, Lady Elizabeth de Burgh. She is an old friend of mine. She has spoken very highly of you."
"There were no opportunities for me to make a fool out of myself when I visited her. I suppose that is why."
Isabella chuckled. "She said you were a clever girl. So was I, at your age. I noticed you and your pretty sister-in-law looking at me quite intently last night."
Bess blushed. "We did not mean to be rude. It is just that your grace is so handsome, and the king's mother, and so seldom seen, and—"
"A wicked woman, I am sure you have been told. I suppose if I were a young lady again I would stare at me too." She paused. "Don't fear, Lady Despenser. I won't force you to turn confessor. I have a perfectly good one of my own."
Relieved and disappointed at the same time, Bess concentrated on her needlework. To break the silence, she said, "If it is not being impertinent, is it strange being back at court after all this time?"
"Why should a girl who embraces her king in front of a hall of people worry about being impertinent? I miss very little, you see."
"Your grace—"
"Oh, I blame my son entirely. He shouldn't have filled the hall with ladies, half of them who have never been outside their little shires before, brought out his best wines, and not expected half of them to make fools of themselves. My husband had the right idea. He discouraged women from being at court, unless they were among my ladies and damsels."
She spoke of her husband as if she were an ordinary widow, Bess noted with fascination.
Monday, September 24, 2007
What Is It About Katherine Swynford?
Like most lovers of historical fiction, I've read Anya Seton's novel Katherine, about John of Gaunt's mistress, and enjoyed it thoroughly, though in retrospect, I'm inclined to think it romanticized its hero and heroine quite a bit.
The historical Katherine is an enormously popular figure in some circles, and I confess I'm at a bit of loss to understand why. If the chroniclers can be believed, she and John conducted their adulterous relationship in a blatant manner calculated to humiliate Constance of Castile, John's wife. John supposedly ended the relationship with Katherine after the Peasants' Revolt, or at least put it on a more discreet footing, but after his quest for the throne of Castile ended, he took Katherine back into his household and took little interest in Constance, who lived her remaining years separately from John. The best thing that can be said of John's conduct was that when Constance conveniently died in 1394, he gave her a lavish funeral and upon his own death provided for a chantry for her. As the beneficiary, financial and otherwise, of John's blatant neglect of his wife, Katherine surely must be regarded as complicit in the matter.
In 1396, as readers of Katherine know, Gaunt married Katherine, who as his new duchess and the mother of his newly legitimated children conducted herself with credit. It would have hardly been to her advantage to conduct herself in any other fashion, however. She does seem to have been on good terms with the children of John's first wife, Blanche, but it was not, of course, their mother who had been publicly slighted by John and Katherine.
All in all, then, I can't see much in the historical Katherine to love or even to admire. Perhaps it's the idealized picture painted by Anya Seton that appeals to so many people? Or perhaps I'm just a hopeless unromantic? Anyway, I'm eager to see what Alison Weir will make of Katherine in her soon-to-be-released biography of her.
On an entirely different note, I was thrilled to see that the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington, D.C., is performing Marlowe's Edward II this season! It's the first time, as far as I know, that the play has been produced within driving distance of me, so I've bought my ticket and am eagerly waiting for the end of November to hurry up and get here. Ed rules!
The historical Katherine is an enormously popular figure in some circles, and I confess I'm at a bit of loss to understand why. If the chroniclers can be believed, she and John conducted their adulterous relationship in a blatant manner calculated to humiliate Constance of Castile, John's wife. John supposedly ended the relationship with Katherine after the Peasants' Revolt, or at least put it on a more discreet footing, but after his quest for the throne of Castile ended, he took Katherine back into his household and took little interest in Constance, who lived her remaining years separately from John. The best thing that can be said of John's conduct was that when Constance conveniently died in 1394, he gave her a lavish funeral and upon his own death provided for a chantry for her. As the beneficiary, financial and otherwise, of John's blatant neglect of his wife, Katherine surely must be regarded as complicit in the matter.
In 1396, as readers of Katherine know, Gaunt married Katherine, who as his new duchess and the mother of his newly legitimated children conducted herself with credit. It would have hardly been to her advantage to conduct herself in any other fashion, however. She does seem to have been on good terms with the children of John's first wife, Blanche, but it was not, of course, their mother who had been publicly slighted by John and Katherine.
All in all, then, I can't see much in the historical Katherine to love or even to admire. Perhaps it's the idealized picture painted by Anya Seton that appeals to so many people? Or perhaps I'm just a hopeless unromantic? Anyway, I'm eager to see what Alison Weir will make of Katherine in her soon-to-be-released biography of her.
On an entirely different note, I was thrilled to see that the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington, D.C., is performing Marlowe's Edward II this season! It's the first time, as far as I know, that the play has been produced within driving distance of me, so I've bought my ticket and am eagerly waiting for the end of November to hurry up and get here. Ed rules!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Edward II at Berkeley Castle
I couldn't let poor Edward II's death anniversary (September 21, 1327) pass without comment (especially with Alianore on blog holiday), but I'm too lazy today to write a special post for the occasion. So here's how I handle it in The Traitor's Wife:
“According to Lord Mortimer’s lieutenant, William of Shalford, men in Wales, South Wales and North Wales alike, are plotting to release the old king,” said Sir Thomas Gurney, who along with William Ogle had hurriedly arrived at Berkeley Castle on the evening of September 20. “They are led by Rhys ap Gruffydd. Shalford says that if this plot succeeds it could be the undoing of Mortimer.” He looked toward the direction of the guardhouse and smiled. “Lords Berkeley and Maltravers, you are to acquaint yourself with the contents of this letter and find a suitable remedy to avoid the peril. Well. It’s pretty damned obvious what they have in mind.” Gurney passed the letter to Berkeley and Maltravers, who read it silently.
Maltravers laughed when he finished reading, but Berkeley said, “I’ll have nothing to do with this, nothing.”
“Nothing! The man’s been living in your castle since April, except when you let him escape,” said Gurney.
“I did not let him escape,” snapped Berkeley. “I underestimated the determination of his friends, that is all. Be that as it may, I’ll still have nothing to do with this.” He turned and left the room.
“Well?” said Maltravers. “How?”
“Mortimer says it will have to leave no mark, as people will be expecting to view the body.”
“So chopping his head off is out of the question,” said Ogle cheerfully. “Well, there’s poison.”
“We’d have to find someone to make it up for us,” objected Gurney.
“Strangulation?”
“Strong as he is? He’d have to be knocked cold, and that would leave a bruise.
Bruises around his neck, too.”
“Suffocation?”
“I suppose that’s the only real choice,” admitted Gurney. He shivered and looked at the fire, which was dying. “Can’t Berkeley’s servants make a decent fire?” He took a poker and began prodding the logs with it. He poked too hard, and he had to pull it out of a log with some difficulty. Then he began laughing.
“Are you daft, man?”
“No,” said Gurney, laughing all the harder. “I’ve an idea. A most fitting idea.”
***
Edward, comfortable and warm on the feather bed Berkeley had so kindly brought him several days before, raised up on his elbow and stared as he heard his cell door being unlocked. He watched as Maltravers, the Gurney fellow who had just arrived at Berkeley, and a number of men he did not know filed in, smiling most peculiarly at him and not bothering to invent any excuse for their being there in the middle of the night. So he had been right; he would soon be free, free with Piers and Hugh and Hugh’s dear old father. His favorite sister, Joan. Adam and Lucy. His mother, his stepmother, his father… His mouth almost crinkled into a smile. No, his father probably wouldn’t be pleased to see him, under the circumstances.
In the torchlight he could now see that the men were carrying some rather
incongruous items. A drinking horn? A table? A cooking spit, glowing red hot? He frowned. Were they going to feed him first? But before he could make any inquiries, he was seized and pushed over on his belly and felt the table, legs in the air, being pressed against his back as someone ripped off his drawers. Then the drinking horn was shoved into his body, then the spit through the horn, and Edward’s screams were echoing through Berkeley Castle. Just as Thomas de Berkeley, lying in his chamber weeping, thought he could not bear to hear them any longer, they died.
***
Eleanor’s screams that same night of September 21, 1327, woke not only her family, but the guards dozing outside the Beauchamp Tower. Their sleepy fumblings at the door, combined with the howling of Lizzie and John and the barking of the dog, only caused her to scream the harder. It was not until Tom, in the kindliest manner possible, resorted to slapping her briskly across the face that she calmed enough to sit in a chair and sip the wine Gladys carefully gave her.
“Another nightmare about Hugh, my lady?”
“No.” Eleanor took a shuddering breath and stared at Gladys in bewilderment.
“My uncle.”
“According to Lord Mortimer’s lieutenant, William of Shalford, men in Wales, South Wales and North Wales alike, are plotting to release the old king,” said Sir Thomas Gurney, who along with William Ogle had hurriedly arrived at Berkeley Castle on the evening of September 20. “They are led by Rhys ap Gruffydd. Shalford says that if this plot succeeds it could be the undoing of Mortimer.” He looked toward the direction of the guardhouse and smiled. “Lords Berkeley and Maltravers, you are to acquaint yourself with the contents of this letter and find a suitable remedy to avoid the peril. Well. It’s pretty damned obvious what they have in mind.” Gurney passed the letter to Berkeley and Maltravers, who read it silently.
Maltravers laughed when he finished reading, but Berkeley said, “I’ll have nothing to do with this, nothing.”
“Nothing! The man’s been living in your castle since April, except when you let him escape,” said Gurney.
“I did not let him escape,” snapped Berkeley. “I underestimated the determination of his friends, that is all. Be that as it may, I’ll still have nothing to do with this.” He turned and left the room.
“Well?” said Maltravers. “How?”
“Mortimer says it will have to leave no mark, as people will be expecting to view the body.”
“So chopping his head off is out of the question,” said Ogle cheerfully. “Well, there’s poison.”
“We’d have to find someone to make it up for us,” objected Gurney.
“Strangulation?”
“Strong as he is? He’d have to be knocked cold, and that would leave a bruise.
Bruises around his neck, too.”
“Suffocation?”
“I suppose that’s the only real choice,” admitted Gurney. He shivered and looked at the fire, which was dying. “Can’t Berkeley’s servants make a decent fire?” He took a poker and began prodding the logs with it. He poked too hard, and he had to pull it out of a log with some difficulty. Then he began laughing.
“Are you daft, man?”
“No,” said Gurney, laughing all the harder. “I’ve an idea. A most fitting idea.”
***
Edward, comfortable and warm on the feather bed Berkeley had so kindly brought him several days before, raised up on his elbow and stared as he heard his cell door being unlocked. He watched as Maltravers, the Gurney fellow who had just arrived at Berkeley, and a number of men he did not know filed in, smiling most peculiarly at him and not bothering to invent any excuse for their being there in the middle of the night. So he had been right; he would soon be free, free with Piers and Hugh and Hugh’s dear old father. His favorite sister, Joan. Adam and Lucy. His mother, his stepmother, his father… His mouth almost crinkled into a smile. No, his father probably wouldn’t be pleased to see him, under the circumstances.
In the torchlight he could now see that the men were carrying some rather
incongruous items. A drinking horn? A table? A cooking spit, glowing red hot? He frowned. Were they going to feed him first? But before he could make any inquiries, he was seized and pushed over on his belly and felt the table, legs in the air, being pressed against his back as someone ripped off his drawers. Then the drinking horn was shoved into his body, then the spit through the horn, and Edward’s screams were echoing through Berkeley Castle. Just as Thomas de Berkeley, lying in his chamber weeping, thought he could not bear to hear them any longer, they died.
***
Eleanor’s screams that same night of September 21, 1327, woke not only her family, but the guards dozing outside the Beauchamp Tower. Their sleepy fumblings at the door, combined with the howling of Lizzie and John and the barking of the dog, only caused her to scream the harder. It was not until Tom, in the kindliest manner possible, resorted to slapping her briskly across the face that she calmed enough to sit in a chair and sip the wine Gladys carefully gave her.
“Another nightmare about Hugh, my lady?”
“No.” Eleanor took a shuddering breath and stared at Gladys in bewilderment.
“My uncle.”
Monday, September 17, 2007
Get Out the Popcorn
I'm coming up for air after a jag of book reviewing for the Historical Novels Review, so this will be a short post. Over the weekend, however, I did get a chuckle out of this video by iBookwatch entitled "Wife Themed Books." (No, not those type of books--books that contain the word "wife" in the title.) I saw a number of familiar books in the video!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Two Reviews
One of the nice things about doing book reviews is that they allow me to read books that are outside my usual zone. Here are some reviews that I did for the August 2007 issue of the Historical Novels Review:
In the Company of Secrets
Judith Miller, Bethany House, 2007, $13.99 pb, 384pp, 0764202766
After kitchen maid Olivia Mott, employed by the Earl and Countess of Lanshire, is sexually menaced by the famed Chef Mallard, she suddenly finds herself bound for Pullman, Illinois, in the company of Lady Charlotte, her employers' spoiled daughter. Charlotte has her own urgent reasons for wanting to travel to America, where she supplies Olivia with a forged recommendation that allows Olivia to find work as an assistant chef at the grand Pullman Hotel—and that threatens to ensnare Olivia in a web of lies.
Olivia, the competing suitors she soon finds, and her other new acquaintances are well drawn, convincingly flawed characters. I did, however, find it jarring that fresh from her lowly position at Lanshire Hall, Olivia is every bit as well spoken as Lady Charlotte. Moreover, she would surely not use words like "missive" and "plethora" in ordinary conversation.
This aside, Miller paints an interesting picture of an 1890's "company town" where spies abound and few secrets are safe. This book is the first of a planned series set in Pullman; I'm looking forward to seeing how Olivia and her fellow characters develop.
Jacob's Run
Bob Zeller and John Beshears, Whittler's Bench Press, 2007, $24.95 pb, 371pp, 097852652X
In 1860 in the coastal city of Wilmington, North Carolina, newspaper reporter Coleman Blue makes an insistent new acquaintance: Ira Spears, an investigator for an insurance company that issues slave life insurance policies. Spears suspects fraud—and he wants a highly reluctant Blue to help him uncover the truth. What results will awaken Blue to the evil of slavery and take his life in an entirely new direction—if he lives to tell about it.
Jacob's Run is narrated by Blue, whose wry, very distinct voice, capable of handling both high comedy and high tragedy by turns, makes this novel an immense pleasure to read. His Wilmington is populated by a host of memorable characters: the depraved Tarleton family; the freedman—and slave owner—Solomon Politte and his college-educated daughter; and Blue himself, plucked from an orphanage to be raised by the proprietor of the Wilmington Standard. Secrets and unsuspected connections between characters abound. The authors vividly depict Wilmington, a city I've spent time in; reading this novel made me want to go back to look around some more.
The authors, whose joint effort has produced a cohesive narrative voice, provide a short but illuminating historical afterword. Sadly enough, the slave insurance policies that are key to the plot are not a figment of the authors' imagination; the back cover has a reproduction of a real one.
In the Company of Secrets
Judith Miller, Bethany House, 2007, $13.99 pb, 384pp, 0764202766
After kitchen maid Olivia Mott, employed by the Earl and Countess of Lanshire, is sexually menaced by the famed Chef Mallard, she suddenly finds herself bound for Pullman, Illinois, in the company of Lady Charlotte, her employers' spoiled daughter. Charlotte has her own urgent reasons for wanting to travel to America, where she supplies Olivia with a forged recommendation that allows Olivia to find work as an assistant chef at the grand Pullman Hotel—and that threatens to ensnare Olivia in a web of lies.
Olivia, the competing suitors she soon finds, and her other new acquaintances are well drawn, convincingly flawed characters. I did, however, find it jarring that fresh from her lowly position at Lanshire Hall, Olivia is every bit as well spoken as Lady Charlotte. Moreover, she would surely not use words like "missive" and "plethora" in ordinary conversation.
This aside, Miller paints an interesting picture of an 1890's "company town" where spies abound and few secrets are safe. This book is the first of a planned series set in Pullman; I'm looking forward to seeing how Olivia and her fellow characters develop.
Jacob's Run
Bob Zeller and John Beshears, Whittler's Bench Press, 2007, $24.95 pb, 371pp, 097852652X
In 1860 in the coastal city of Wilmington, North Carolina, newspaper reporter Coleman Blue makes an insistent new acquaintance: Ira Spears, an investigator for an insurance company that issues slave life insurance policies. Spears suspects fraud—and he wants a highly reluctant Blue to help him uncover the truth. What results will awaken Blue to the evil of slavery and take his life in an entirely new direction—if he lives to tell about it.
Jacob's Run is narrated by Blue, whose wry, very distinct voice, capable of handling both high comedy and high tragedy by turns, makes this novel an immense pleasure to read. His Wilmington is populated by a host of memorable characters: the depraved Tarleton family; the freedman—and slave owner—Solomon Politte and his college-educated daughter; and Blue himself, plucked from an orphanage to be raised by the proprietor of the Wilmington Standard. Secrets and unsuspected connections between characters abound. The authors vividly depict Wilmington, a city I've spent time in; reading this novel made me want to go back to look around some more.
The authors, whose joint effort has produced a cohesive narrative voice, provide a short but illuminating historical afterword. Sadly enough, the slave insurance policies that are key to the plot are not a figment of the authors' imagination; the back cover has a reproduction of a real one.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
House Hunting, Plantagenet Style
Overseas readers may not be aware of this, but American subdivision developers would be lost without England. That's because so many subdivisions have English-inspired names (my town has one called Buckingham, for example) and corresponding house models. Today's newspaper, for instance, has a full-page ad featuring house models called Exeter, Essex, Victoria, and Windsor, and there's even a model called Chaucer, though with a "French Country Styled Exterior" that seems incongruous for the father of English literature. (The Chaucer doesn't come cheap; it's $674,900, which means that most people who would get a kick out of buying a house called the Chaucer couldn't afford it.)
So what if there were a development named "Plantagenet Estates"? Here's a few prospective models:
The King Edward II:
Do you like to leave your work at the office? If so, your house hunting is over! This homebody's delight features a home theater, a workshop, and an oversized recreation/exercise room. We've left the landscaping to you!
The Gaveston:
Fit for a royal favorite, this luxurious model features extra-large walk-in closets and a built-in jewelry chest! And you'll always be sure you're looking your best thanks to our oversized mirrors.
The Despenser:
This beauty comes only on our largest lots and features a unique floor plan that allows for easy future expansion! Perfect if you're thinking of adding some extra acreage down the line.
The Mortimer:
Are there two very special people in your life? Is discretion a must? Designed for the busy man of action, this handsome house sports dual staircases, dual kitchens, and dual owner's suites.
The Isabella:
This elegant home, using top-of-the-line material and assembled by the finest craftsmen, is truly fit for a queen. Why settle for less when you can afford the best? YOU DESERVE IT!
The King Edward III:
This deluxe model, offered to only a handful of customers, features an underground parking area with an interior entrance so that your important guests can come and go away from the eyes of prying neighbors. Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
So what if there were a development named "Plantagenet Estates"? Here's a few prospective models:
The King Edward II:
Do you like to leave your work at the office? If so, your house hunting is over! This homebody's delight features a home theater, a workshop, and an oversized recreation/exercise room. We've left the landscaping to you!
The Gaveston:
Fit for a royal favorite, this luxurious model features extra-large walk-in closets and a built-in jewelry chest! And you'll always be sure you're looking your best thanks to our oversized mirrors.
The Despenser:
This beauty comes only on our largest lots and features a unique floor plan that allows for easy future expansion! Perfect if you're thinking of adding some extra acreage down the line.
The Mortimer:
Are there two very special people in your life? Is discretion a must? Designed for the busy man of action, this handsome house sports dual staircases, dual kitchens, and dual owner's suites.
The Isabella:
This elegant home, using top-of-the-line material and assembled by the finest craftsmen, is truly fit for a queen. Why settle for less when you can afford the best? YOU DESERVE IT!
The King Edward III:
This deluxe model, offered to only a handful of customers, features an underground parking area with an interior entrance so that your important guests can come and go away from the eyes of prying neighbors. Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Booking Through Thursday: Goldilocks
From Booking Through Thursday:
Great question! I can and do read almost everywhere, though I find it difficult to do so when there's a live conversation going on next to me (e.g., in a waiting room). When you have children, you have to seize your reading opportunities while you can!
Okay, so the other day, a friend was commenting on my monthly reading list and asked when I found the time to read. In the ensuing discussion, she described herself as a “goldilocks” when it comes to reading–she needs to have everything juuuuuust right to be able to focus. This caught my attention because, first, I thought that was a charming way of describing the condition, but, two, while we’ve talked about our reading habits, this is an interesting wrinkle. I’d never really thought about it that way.
So, this is my question to you–are you a Goldilocks kind of reader?
Do you need the light just right, the background noise just so loud but not too loud, the chair just right, the distractions at a minimum?
Or can you open a book at any time and dip right in, whether it’s for twenty seconds, while waiting for the kettle to boil, or indefinitely, like while waiting interminably at the hospital–as long as the book is open in front of your nose, you’re happy to read?
Great question! I can and do read almost everywhere, though I find it difficult to do so when there's a live conversation going on next to me (e.g., in a waiting room). When you have children, you have to seize your reading opportunities while you can!
All in Moderation
I've turned moderation on for the time being, because yesterday some lunatic left a very long, rambling, racist comment on the blog, and I'm concerned that he might show up again. But don't worry, I still love to get comments of the non-racist-lunatic variety!
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Ten Rules for Writing Ricardian Historical Fiction
As it's been quiet in my part of the blogsphere, I'm double posting this one on my Richard III blog.
Some time ago (I never was accused of being au courant), rules for writing various sorts of historical fiction were circulated in blogdom. Astonishingly, as far as I know, no one provided any for the aspiring Ricardian novelist. So here's my attempt to fill this gaping void:
1. Anne Beauchamp, Richard's mother-in-law, must be tearfully grateful when Richard III takes her to live with him and Anne, and must not under any circumstances allude to the fact that Richard and Clarence together have stripped her of all of her lands. The means by which Richard acquired the lands of George Neville and the Countess of Oxford should also be disregarded; if the matter of land must be mentioned at all, the reader should be allowed to assume that it came to Richard via the Land Fairy.
2. Anne Neville must be frail, in order to make Richard's love for her all the more noble and to get maximum pathos from her stay at the cookshop. The emotional power of a Ricardian novel can be measured roughly by the number of times Anne faints.
3. Anything bad that happens in England during the Wars of the Roses is the fault of either (a) Margaret of Anjou, (b) anyone named Woodville, (c) Margaret Beaufort, (d) the Stanleys, (e) Buckingham (except when he's allied with Richard III), or (f) Henry Tudor. Special points go to any Ricardian novelist who can make the Woodvilles responsible for global warming.
4. Anything good that happens in England during the Wars of the Roses is due to Richard, Duke of York, Edward IV (except when it's something Richard doesn't like), or Richard III.
5. Anne and Richard must have been childhood sweethearts whose lifelong wish to marry is thwarted by Warwick. The phrase "sold into marriage" should be used at least once when Anne marries Edward of Lancaster. Under no circumstances should Anne and Edward have even slightly positive feelings for each other.
6. Richard III's extramarital liaisons are the product of either his merry bachelor high jinks, a passionate premarital love affair with a woman of lower rank, or (preferably) his desperate need to find comfort in the absence of his childhood sweetheart Anne. Anyone else's extramarital liaisons are the product of lechery and depravity. Yes, that means you, William Hastings.
7. In the afterword, the conscientious Ricardian novelist will take a swipe at all accounts unfavorable to Richard, dismissing them as Tudor propaganda. The very same accounts, however, must be followed slavishly when they are unfavorable to Richard's enemies.
8. William Collingbourne's hanging, drawing, and quartering on Richard III's orders must not be depicted, as it would be a violation of the Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause of the U.S. Constitution, which Richard would have followed to the letter if only it'd been written at the time.
9. Richard must not kill the Princes. Nor can he make a loaded remark such as, "Will no one rid me of those pesky Princes?" or "Sure would be a lot more to go around if we didn't have those two extra mouths in the Tower to feed." (But c'mon—you knew that rule.)
10. When in doubt, blame Elizabeth Woodville.
Some time ago (I never was accused of being au courant), rules for writing various sorts of historical fiction were circulated in blogdom. Astonishingly, as far as I know, no one provided any for the aspiring Ricardian novelist. So here's my attempt to fill this gaping void:
1. Anne Beauchamp, Richard's mother-in-law, must be tearfully grateful when Richard III takes her to live with him and Anne, and must not under any circumstances allude to the fact that Richard and Clarence together have stripped her of all of her lands. The means by which Richard acquired the lands of George Neville and the Countess of Oxford should also be disregarded; if the matter of land must be mentioned at all, the reader should be allowed to assume that it came to Richard via the Land Fairy.
2. Anne Neville must be frail, in order to make Richard's love for her all the more noble and to get maximum pathos from her stay at the cookshop. The emotional power of a Ricardian novel can be measured roughly by the number of times Anne faints.
3. Anything bad that happens in England during the Wars of the Roses is the fault of either (a) Margaret of Anjou, (b) anyone named Woodville, (c) Margaret Beaufort, (d) the Stanleys, (e) Buckingham (except when he's allied with Richard III), or (f) Henry Tudor. Special points go to any Ricardian novelist who can make the Woodvilles responsible for global warming.
4. Anything good that happens in England during the Wars of the Roses is due to Richard, Duke of York, Edward IV (except when it's something Richard doesn't like), or Richard III.
5. Anne and Richard must have been childhood sweethearts whose lifelong wish to marry is thwarted by Warwick. The phrase "sold into marriage" should be used at least once when Anne marries Edward of Lancaster. Under no circumstances should Anne and Edward have even slightly positive feelings for each other.
6. Richard III's extramarital liaisons are the product of either his merry bachelor high jinks, a passionate premarital love affair with a woman of lower rank, or (preferably) his desperate need to find comfort in the absence of his childhood sweetheart Anne. Anyone else's extramarital liaisons are the product of lechery and depravity. Yes, that means you, William Hastings.
7. In the afterword, the conscientious Ricardian novelist will take a swipe at all accounts unfavorable to Richard, dismissing them as Tudor propaganda. The very same accounts, however, must be followed slavishly when they are unfavorable to Richard's enemies.
8. William Collingbourne's hanging, drawing, and quartering on Richard III's orders must not be depicted, as it would be a violation of the Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause of the U.S. Constitution, which Richard would have followed to the letter if only it'd been written at the time.
9. Richard must not kill the Princes. Nor can he make a loaded remark such as, "Will no one rid me of those pesky Princes?" or "Sure would be a lot more to go around if we didn't have those two extra mouths in the Tower to feed." (But c'mon—you knew that rule.)
10. When in doubt, blame Elizabeth Woodville.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
The Senior Citizen and the Sea
As part of my day job, I'm often called upon to recast gender-specific language into gender-neutral language. (Hey, it's not my idea.) This got me to thinking this Labor Day weekend, which I plan to spend throwing words like "he" or "she" around with mad abandon, what if book titles for historical fiction had to be converted accordingly?
The Traitor's Spouse by you-know-who
The Monarch's Pleasure by Norah Lofts
Youngster With a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier
The Borgia Newlywed by Jeanne Kalogridis
The Other Boleyn Kid by Philippa Gregory
The Constant Offspring of a Ruler by Philippa Gregory
In the Company of the Member of the Demi-Monde by Sarah Dunant
The Bronze Horseperson by Paullina Simons
The Perfect Royal Main Squeeze by Diane Haeger
But if you want to see some strange titles that library patrons come up with, head over to Sarah's blog!
The Traitor's Spouse by you-know-who
The Monarch's Pleasure by Norah Lofts
Youngster With a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier
The Borgia Newlywed by Jeanne Kalogridis
The Other Boleyn Kid by Philippa Gregory
The Constant Offspring of a Ruler by Philippa Gregory
In the Company of the Member of the Demi-Monde by Sarah Dunant
The Bronze Horseperson by Paullina Simons
The Perfect Royal Main Squeeze by Diane Haeger
But if you want to see some strange titles that library patrons come up with, head over to Sarah's blog!
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