Forgotten Stories

Today I came across two unfinished novels I was working on ten years ago. I had completely forgotten about the existence of one of them, so it was fascinating to read those few first pages. The two novels were part of a fantasy series (with werewolves!) I planned to write back then. I finished Book 1 and 2, but never got around writing the others. However, I also found my old notes today: lists of characters, complicated genealogies, notes on customs and language, several maps ... Such a look back into one's own writing past is rather strange -- especially when you've long forgotten names and storylines or can only vaguely remember them. In one of the unfinished tales there were references to earlier books, I'm sure of it, but I could no longer place them and no longer knew what they actually refer to. And then, of course, the book breaks off in the middle of a chapter, leaving me wondering where exactly I had wanted to take that story. What did I want to do with the characters?

Lost stories.

It's rather sad, isn't it?

My New Tea Set

I've found some pictures of my new tea set online. Isn't the pattern lovely? I hope I can pick up the set today.

Weekly Reads Round-Up (Warning: May Include Nuts ... eh ... Serious Gushing!)

I used to be crazy about anthologies. Truly, once upon a time I loved anthologies to pieces. But alas, today the stories in anthologies are a bit too condensed for my liking. Still, I enjoyed Snowy Night with a Stranger with stories by Jane Feather, Sabrina Jeffries and Julia London quite a lot. (There were wounded heroes with scars -- what's not to like?) (Uhm, somehow that doesn't sound right ... *g*)

Next I tried another book from the Rapturous Rakes bundle, namely, Nicola Cornick's The Rake's Mistress. Even though the premise was interesting and definitely unusual (the heroine is a glass engraver, and the hero is after a group of spies who encode messages in glass engravings), I didn't like it as much as Georgina Devon's The Rake. Definitely more of a 3 than a 4.

After that I read a book which shall remain unnamed. Or rather, I read 1 1/2 chapters of the aforementioned book which shall remain unnamed. And by then I had taken such an intense dislike to the hero that the book achieved wallbanger-status. Heavens, people, even if your hero is a rake, I really don't want to read about him seducing servant girls and frolicking with them over the sheets just because he fancies a quick shag!

(Needed to fortify myself with some Lebkuchen after that rather nasty reading experience.)

And then ... oh, then I started with Lisa Kleypas's Scandal in Spring. Before that my one and only Kleypas novel had been Lady Sophia's Lover, which I read years ago and which was a meh read for me. Hence, I had never tried another of her novels. But as I'm now devouring historicals again, I ended up looking at the cover blurb for Scandal in Spring. And then at the beginning of the first chapter, which the nice people at Fictionwise had helpfully provided. It sounded sweet, so I bought the book.

Lucky me! :)

For I utterly, utterly adore it! It's sweet, funny and sexy; the heroine is likable and the hero is suitable dashing (and doesn't seduce servant girls!). The dialogues are witty, the action is charming, and the secondary characters are well drawn. I like the interaction between the heroine and the other Wallflowers -- it's nice to see a heroine surrounded by loving friends and family. (I tend to isolate my heroines. Perhaps I should fix that in a future novel ... *thinks about future novel projects* Well, perhaps in a novel far, far, far into the future. My heroines seem to be doomed to be isolated. Poor things.)

Naturally, I bought all the other books from the Wallflower series straight away (hey, Fictionwise offers a 40% rebate at the moment, remember? *ggg*)

To all my American Readers

Happy Turkey day! :)

Sandy's Latest Passion

I love tea sets.

Correction: I'm crazy about tea sets.

Apart from my normal white china for every-day use, I've got

• a Chinese tea set with patterns of rice worked into the china (see pic above)
• a glass tea set (I'll have to part with the pot, though, as the handle has partly come off)
• a red tea set (well, it is actually a coffee set, but as I don't drink coffee, it has become a tea set), which my parents got for their wedding
• a brown tea set (this used to belong to my parents, too)
• a Christmas set, which used to belong to my grandmother
• umpteen-thousand different mugs

And now I've ordered yet another set. I blame the people at one of our local tea shops: they had the loveliest tea pot on display (white china decorated with pictures of cherry branches and blossoms). How could I possibly resist?

But that's not the worst. Oh no. My very latest passion is table cloths. Unerringly, I always pick the most expensive cloth in the whole shop to look at. *sigh* But at least a 270-Euros price tag makes it extremely easy to resist the temptation... *g*

I've lately fallen in love with French patterns: I simply adore the collection of Garnier-Thiebaut.

In addition, I found an online store yesterday which sells table cloths from Provence. I ordered one with this pattern today (see below). Isn't it beautiful?

Betthupferl

I haven't posted this picture for quite some time now. Shame on me! Here's one of my favourite moments from my favourite ballet:




(from Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, with Adam Cooper as the Swan, and Scott Amble as the Prince)

Thanksgiving Sale at Fictionwise

40% on all ebooks when making a credit card purchase.

40%!!!!

*gulp*

These people are Teh Evil!

Corrections ...

... I hatez 'em.

LOL cat from I can has cheezburger

Betthupferl

Julie Andrews and Gene Kelly playing the tapping game -- wasn't Gene Kelly adorable? Hmmmm. Sweet dreams! :)

More Thoughts on Gaskell

Another thing I really liked about N&S is that Gaskell is subtly subversive in regard to the description and characterisation of her heroine. At the beginning of the novel, Margaret expresses her impatience with all the "trifles" of the arrangements for her cousin's wedding: "A sense of indescribable weariness of all the arrangements for a pretty effect, in which Edith had been busied as supreme authority for the last six weeks, oppressed her just now [...]" (Chapter 1). She doesn't really seem to be into talks about the latest fashion, about ribbons, frills, and what not.

After this glimpse of her character in Chapter 1, her physical appearance is then described in Chapter 2:

Sometimes people wondered that parents so handsome should have a daughter who was so far from regularly beautiful; not beautiful at all, was occasionally said. He mouth was wide; no rosebud that could only open just enough to let out a 'yes' and 'no,' and 'an't please you, sir.'

In other words, neither in appearance nor in temperament does Margaret fit the Victorian ideal of femininity: she might be pure (after all, she is terribly upset about being regarded as a desirable woman -- think of her reaction to the proposals of marriage she receives from Henry Lennox and Thornton!), but submissive, decorous, frail or angelic she's not. The quotation above clearly doesn't only indicate that she enjoys intelligent conversations, but also that she probably is not afraid of butting heads with the person she's having a discussion with. Thus it prepares the reader for Margaret's heated discussions with Thornton later on in the novel.

The two of them engage in a verbal battle that is quite ferocious at times (when she rejects him, Thornton feels as she has "given him a sound blow with her fists" (Chapter 26)) and that contrasts with Henry Lennox's empty flattery. While Thornton actually listens to Margaret and lets his actions be influenced by her, Lennox thinks her mind "could easily [...] be led to embrace all objects on which he had set his heart" (Chapter 49). Both men liken Margaret to an empress, but whereas on Thornton's part this is an expression of his admiration and his growing (or rather, instant) regard for her,* Lennox is clearly annoyed by what he sees as her inappropriate, superior ways: "She has been very farouche with me for a long time; and is only just beginning to thaw a little from her Zenobia ways" (Chapter 59). (Jerk!) This, of course, makes it more than clear that Thornton is the better partner for Margaret.

The extent of Margaret's unconventionality first becomes obvious during the dinner party at Thornton's:

She was surprised to think how much she enjoyed this dinner. She knew enough now to understand many local interests -- nay, even some of the technical words employed by the eager millowners. (Chapter 20)

In other words, she is interested in what the men talk about. And what do they talk about? Milton politics.

Oh. My. Gosh.

A woman interested in politics!

This is subversive stuff indeed, given the Victorian ideology of the separation of the two spheres. The Victorians regarded life as being divided into two spheres, the public sphere and the private sphere. The public sphere is that of men -- they venture out into the big world to earn money and to talk/make politics. Women by contrast occupy the private sphere; they're responsible for the household and for the children. Because they're so frail and ethereal, they must sheltered from the world outside. But in N&S Margaret clearly ventures beyond her own sphere, and never more so when she rushes out to face the rioters at Marlborough Mills and throws herself at Thornton to protect him from the angry mob.

Traditionally, Victorian heroines who dare to move beyond their proper place and beyond the Victorian ideal of femininity are cruelly punished for this transgression. (Just think of the Lady of Shalott, who has to die after she assumes a male subject position by looking out of the window of her tower!) In N&S, by contrast, the heroine is rewarded for her daring: by her very unconventionality she wins the love of powerful, passionate man, who respects her and listens to her.

So yay! for Margaret! And a double yay!! for Gaskell!

~*~

* See their first meeting in Chapter 7:

Her dress was very plain: a close straw bonnet of the best material and shape, trimmed with white ribbon; a dark silk gown, without any trimmin or flounce; a large Indian shawl, which hung about her in long heavy folds and which she wore as an empress wears her drapery. [...] Mr. Thornton was in habits of authority himself, but she seemed to assume some kind of rule over him at once.

Betthupferl

For everybody who has never been to the Literacy for Life signing at the RWA National Conference. :)

Settings: The Villa under the Linden Trees

It's been some time since I last blogged about the German setting for BETRAYAL, the Villa under the Linden Trees. 13 months, to be exact. We can't have that!

Those who've been following this blog for some time now, know that I've based my fictional Villa under the Linden Trees on a real villa in the vicinity of Frankfurt. I fell in love with the house when I was a little child, and I was absolutely fascinated by the old playhouse which still stood in the park at that time. It was big enough for a small child to stand in, but it was also quite eerie as all the windows were covered with dirt and cobwebs and when you peeped inside through the smudgy glass, you could see that all the furniture inside was also covered with cobwebs -- as you can see, it made quite an impression on little me!

A few years ago I paid the house a second visit -- and fell in love with it all over again. Unfortunately, the old playhouse was gone and had been replaced by a newer, open model (not at all fascinating!).

BUT!!!!

The ice house was open. :) What a perfect place to get spooked on a nice summer's day!

Since then I've been back to visit the house every once in a while. I still love it so very much. And of course, I simply had to use it as a setting in one of my stories. :)

Georgina had built a new life for herself here in this villa on the banks of the river, in one of the small towns that spread along the Main west and east from old, venerable Frankfurt like pearls on a string.

The Villa under the Linden Trees seeemed to sparkle in the sunlight, radiating happiness and good cheer.

That evening Georgina sat at the window in her room up under the roof of the coachman's house, her sewing on her lap. While the needle glided through the material her thoughts flew back to what Martin Renner had told them this afternoon about her son's further exploits. The trip to Italy had certainly changed her quiet, serious child. What had the hot Italian sun awakened in him?

Abruptly she turned and hurried back the way she had come, faster and faster, until she almost ran up the stairs that led to the gardens of the Villa under the Linden Trees. Faster and faster under the green arch of the trees. At the door of the ice house she came to a stumbling halt.

Shuddering, she leaned against the thick wood. The breath wheezed in her lungs while a host of images tumbled through her mind, around and around in a made parade.

She thought of the first time she had walked beneath those same trees that rose high on her left and right like the pillars of a cathedral. As she had done then, she stopped and laid her head back to follow the lines of the dark trunks with her gaze. And even after all these years, she still felt the same awe, was overwhelmed by the beauty of black, whispering branches and glittering leaves against brilliant blue.

Georgina's breath hissed through her nose as pain sliced her heart.

Just in that moment, the wind picked up. A puff of air let the branches rustle, and suddenly hundreds of small leaves were raining down on her. She didn't notice the tendrils of hair the breeze blew across her face, but lost herself in the whirl of glitter and gold. If only this moment would never end ...

Betthupferl

I've chosen this clip because

• You can never get enough of Richard Armitage. :)
• Laughing is good for you!
• Have I already mentioned Richard Armitage???

And last but not least because

• it really should have been me! *ggg*
  

(No eating and drinking while watching. Your computer screen and keyboard might not survive the experience.)

DIY Chocolate

The internet is a wondrous place and with the launch of chocri.de it has become even more wondrous for now you can create your own chocolate (hmmm!). Chocri allows you to choose your basic (bio and Fair Trade!!!) chocolate (white, milk, dark) and then add various ingredients and toppings such as cranberries, strawberries, stripes of mango, slices of kiwi fruit, rose leaves, smarties, gummibears, pepper, cinnamon, various herbs, gold powder, etc. etc.

According to several other German bloggers, the chocolate tastes yummylicious and initial problems with packing (and padding!!!) have now been solved. I hope they're right: today I ordered two bars of dark chocolate for my Dad whose birthday is in early December. But it would have been a horrid waste of postage to order only two bars, right?

Right.

And we can't have that. *ggg*

So naturally, I ordered a bar of milk chocolate (with cranberries) for myself. :-)

Musical Sunday

Every once in a while, I buy some music for a change (instead of just books). And last night was one of these times (okay, I admit: I was grumpy about something and thought some online retail therapy would help) (it did *g*). So I ordered

• the new Enya album And Winter Came (isn't the cover gorgeous?)
• the somewhat older Enya album Amarantine
• the album Songs from a Secret Garden by Secret Garden, a new-to-me band - I liked the snippets from the music sampler at amazon

and last but not least

• Rhydian Roberts's debut album (woohoo!)

That last one is completely Karen Scott's fault: when she blogged about The XFactor some time ago, I started rummaging around on YouTube, where I first stumbled across Connie Talbot (awwwwww!) ...

... and then over Rhydian Roberts (oh my gosh!!!!). At first I was somewhat put off by his strange hair-do (my thoughts ran somewhat along the line of "What a dork!"), but when I heard him sing -- complete melt-down. *g* What a lovely, lovely voice that man has!

This is him singing "You Raise Me Up" at The XFactor:

And "Somewhere" (which almost made me cry):

(Whoever wrote the "About" snippet on YouTube didn't do a proper job with the background research: Barbara Streisand might have recorded that song at some time in the past, but of course, it's originally from Bernstein's Westside Story: it's sung at a pivotal point in the musical by Tony and Maria and is reprised at the end, when Tony lies dying in Maria's arms.)

Gaskell Wheeee!!!

I've just finished my preparations for my literature class on Monday -- and I'm so exhilerated!

I think I've already mentioned that I'm teaching Gaskell this semester (and Gaskell beat Shakespeare! By miles!!!) and that at the moment we're discussing North and South. The preparations this afternoon & evening were truly great as they allowed me to dig into the novel once again and to penetrate the web of story Gaskell spins. I love it when I can make a text my own this way. The rush this gives me is almost as big as the rush I get from a good day of writing: my skin tingles and I feel as if my body were filled with lots of bubbles. :) So yay to Gaskell!!

I enjoyed how sensual the writing in N&S is: the author lovingly describes Margaret as seen through Thornton's eyes and it's quite clear that he's physically attracted to her. Or in other words, that he's got the hots for her. Take this description from their first meeting in Chapter 7:

[...] her full beauty met his eye; her round white flexile throat rising out of the full, yet lithe figure; her lips, moving so slightly as she spoke, not breaking the cold serene look of her face with any variation from the one lovely haughty curve; her eyes, with their soft gloom, meeting his with quiet maiden freedom.

Or this, from Chapter 10:

She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless daintiness. She had a bracelet on one taper arm, which would fall down over her round wrist. Mr Thornton watched the re-placing of this troublesome ornament with far more attention than he listened to her father. It seemed as if it fascinated him to see her push it up impatiently, until it tightened her soft flesh; and then to mark the loosening -- the fall. He could almost have exclaimed -- 'There it goes, again!'

:-)

In addition, there are quite a few Awwwww-moments in the novel, especially when poor John Thornton is struggling with his feelings for Margaret. Take this (he's about to propose to her for the first time):

He dreaded lest he should go forwards to meet her, with his arms held out in mute entreaty that she would come and nestle there, as she had done, all unheeded, the day before, but never unheeded again. His heart throbbed loud and quick. Strong man as he was, he trembled at the anticipation of what he had to say, and how it might be received.

And after he has been rejected:

It would have been a relief to him, if he could have sat down and cried on a door-step by a little child, who was raging and storming, through his passionate tears, at some injury he had received. He said to himself, that he hated Margaret, but a wild, sharp sensation of love cleft his dull, thunderous feeling like lightning, even as he shaped the words expressive of hatred. [...] She would not make him change. He loved her, and would love her; and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain.

If that's not seriously Awwwww!-worthy, I don't know what is.

What I found interesting was a comment from the essay "North and South: Varieties of Love and Power" by John Pikoulis, who regards the second proposal and the ending of the novel as weak:

To the end, Margaret regards her connexion with him as (the metaphor is unavoidable) busieness-like, and it is only when he sinks to his knees that he can coax her into laying her face, still covered with her hands as a final gesture of reluctance, on his shoulder; only when he has made the pilgrimage to Helstone does she agree to marry him. The object of his affections has become the tyrant of his conscience, as well as his landlord. [...] [Margaret] has Thornton in her power and accepts him on her own terms. [...] She takes Thornton as if they were friendly master and hand [...]. The sin and sinner have been punished, Margaret's suffering rewarded, but a mature relationship between a man and a woman avoided.

At first I was rather puzzled by this comment, because this is not how I've read the ending. But it took me some time to figure out why: I've read N&S as a romance. And then, of course, it makes perfect sense that Margaret accepts Thornton only when he is "tamed" (see Susan Elizabeth Phillips' article in Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women), only when it has become clear that she can assert a certain influence over him (he has, after all, listened to her and has begun to regard his workers as individuals). But even if he is brought low in the end and she has to help him (what's the problem with that? other people's heroes have been tied to rocks and have to look on while the heroine shoots the villain! *g*), he has not lost his edge, he can still be masterful: "Take care. -- If you do not speak -- I shall claim you as my own in some strange presumptuous way." (Hey, he can claim me as his own any time! Especially if he looks like Richard Armitage! *ggg*) It's a romance ending, of course it's a romance ending. And all their (very sexy, very stimulating) verbal sparring throughout the story has shown that they are ideally suited: Margaret is interested in the politics of Milton, and Thornton is not only eager to make her understand him, but also actually listens to her. Which shows that he values her opinion. He is not Henry Lennox, who

loved her beauty. He saw the latent sweep of her mind, which could easily (he thought) be led to embrace all the objects on which he had set his heart. He looked upon her fortune only as a part of the complete and superb character of herself and her position: yet he was fully aware of the rise which it would immediately enable him, the poor barrister, to take.

(Jerk!)

No, no, Margaret needs Thornton. That they will be happy together becomes more than obvious at the very end for the novel ends with mutual teasing:

"How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?" she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. [And why the silence? Because they're busy snogging!]

"Let me speak to her."

"Oh, no! I owe it to her, -- but what will she say?"

"I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, 'That man'"

"Hush!" said Margaret, "or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, 'That woman!'"

Now is that sweet or what?

Help! I'm a VistaPrint Junkie!

It all started with Christmas cards.

Christmas cards are rather expensive in Germany compared to, say, the UK, where you can buy boxes with umpteen cards for 3 GBP or so. Because I didn't want to spend a small fortune on Christmas cards this year, I checked out online stores and ended up at VistaPrint and their special offers.

Oh my.

Naturally, I didn't just buy Christmas cards, but also personalized post-its, address stickers and postcards (all special offers).

And then I ordered their free business cards (I always forget business cards when I go to a conference).

And just now I've ordered their special offer of magnetic calenders.

Oh my, indeed.

The first two orders have already arrived, and I'm quite happy with the quality. The cards are beautiful and post-its are soooo cute! :) The design of the business cards is a bit too dark, but hey, who cares? I'll have business cards for the next RWA conference!!! For the first time since 2004!

More Musings about Flashbacks

I guess in films flashbacks are much easier to do: you can do them with (literal) flashes of blurred or hazy images (think CSI!) that last only a few seconds. In writing, it is of course much more difficult to simulate such flashes of memory: you have to describe what your character sees in front of his inner eye, but at the same time you have to soften the edges of your description in a manner of speaking to blur the images. I try to do this by not describing fully fleshed out scenes, but concentrating on specific details instead. But then I thought about how tricky it really is to really remember details. I mean, would you be able to remember the colour of the eyes of a person you haven't seen for seventeen years? (Let's face it: for some people *cough* some men *cough* everybody is of average height and average size and has light brown hair.) And exactly this was what triggered the following flashback (Ash is standing outside the music room, listening to a conversation between his son and the housekeeper):

The housekeeper made a strange sound. Her hand rose to circle her throat. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I shouldn't have mentioned your mother."

Oh yes, Ash thought grimly. You shouldn't have. Had he not made this clear seventeen years ago after ...

He shuddered.

Even now his mind shied away from that "after."

But alas, the ghosts of the past had already risen to mock him and taunt him. The expression on her face that last time in his study. Milky-white skin -- shock that he had seen through her masquerade, through all her scheming and lies. Large as saucers her eyes had been ...

Her eyes ...

Ash's stomach dropped, and for a moment he had to lean his head against the smooth wood of the door jamb, while some unknown, unwanted emotion constricted his throat.

He couldn't remember the color of her eyes.

He swallowed hard, then shook his head angrily. Fool. Fool. What did it matter of what color her eyes had been?

And here's another problem with flashbacks in written texts: because Ash's thoughts have run over a few paragraphs, I can't just seamlessly continue with the conversation between St. Asaph and the housekeeper now. For the reader some time has passed simply because it has taken her some time to read these paragraphs. So this has to be reflected in the text as well.

The Things You Find on YouTube

or, I Might Be Mean, But Other People Are Even Meaner ;-P



I really like Katy Towell's style of illustration, and all of her short films are nicely spooky and deal with very strange little girls. More scary stuff of hers can be found on skary.net

Musings on What Makes a Hero Tick

One of the things I'm trying to do while fleshing out BETRAYAL is to lend my characters more emotional depth. Or perhaps I should rather say, to intensify their emotions -- especially when it comes to my hero.

Ash is a man who has experienced heartache in the past and who therefore keeps his emotions now tightly reined in. Still, at several points in the story he acts in extreme ways, and I've kept thinking that I haven't really given him enough justification for his behaviour. Soooooo .... *rubbing my hands* ... he's going to suffer a bit more. And I've now finally figured out what his trigger is: he hates all reminders of the past, he hates it that his emotions once caused him to look like a fool, and most of all, he hates feeling vulnerable. For this reason he now keeps his emotions tied up, and doesn't allow himself to feel much of anything. Yet when he is caught unawares and the memories rise and he is reminded of his vulnerability and of what he regards as his foolishness, he is overwhelmed by waves of intense anger, doesn't really know how to handle it, and hence blows a fuse.

Poor thing.

Excerpt Thursday on UH

It's my Excerpt Thursday on Unusual Historicals. If you haven't yet read BEWITCHED, please step over and take a peep. :)

Rapturous Rakes

To make up for the medieval disaster (see post below), I bought the Harlequin "Rapturous Rakes" bundle from Fictionwise yesterday. It contains

• A REPUTABLE RAKE by Diane Gaston (whose book was the reason I became interested in the bundle in the first place: I haven't yet read any of her books - or at least I don't remember having read any of her books - and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to catch up),
• THE RAKE by Georgina Devon, and
• THE RAKE'S MISTRESS by Nicola Cornick

A few years ago I used to love M&B historicals, though the Regencies were devilishly hard to find in the USBs of Galway, where I was initiated into the joys of category romance (thank you, Ann! *mmmmwah*). Indeed, among my all-time favourite historical romances, there are quite a number of M&B historicals, e.g. Margaret Moore's THE WASTREL (such a sweet, sweet novel!) (and such a lovely cover!!! one of the first to show only a man), Mary Brendan's THE SILVER SQUIRE, Ann Elizabeth Cree's THE MARRIAGE TRUCE, or Elizabeth Rolls's THE UNEXPECTED BRIDE. Another book I had enjoyed quite a lot was Georgina Devon's BETRAYAL (the cover is a bit horrid, though - the heroine has a mullet). Therefore I was quite thrilled that another of Devon's books was included in the aforementioned "Rapturous Rakes" bundle.

When I started reading the novel, I realised I'd read it before (I bought it on 11 January 2001 in Galway), but it was so long ago that I didn't remember much but the premise and the ending. Which meant that almost no memories spoilt my present enjoyment of the novel. And enjoy it, I did! The novel opens with the heroine, Juliet Smythe-Clyde, being in male disguise and preparing for a duel with the Duke of Brabourne in her father's stead. When she is wounded, she is forced to spend several days and nights in Brabourne's house, who, of course, very quickly figures out that she is a girl. He's intrigued by her courage and loyalty, yet at the same time he also regards her as very much of a nuisance - especially when the secret leaks out that she has spent time under his roof unchaperoned. He cannot help but feel sorry for her when she is ostracised by the ton. So he engages the help of his friends to restore her reputation in the eyes of society. Unfortunately, it seems as if this won't be enough ...

I liked the premise of this novel - hero shoots heroine in duel - oh my! -, and I very much enjoyed the development of Juliet and Brabourne's relationship. They are both so determined not to get involved with each other, and they both have very good reasons to stay away from the other. It was great fun to see how they nevertheless gradually fell in love. (hehe)

Brabourne is a sexy, sensible man, with dark secrets of his own. He has got very good reasons why he does not want to marry and why he doesn't trust women (okay, the usual reason...), but that said, he is never cruel to Juliet (hear that, you medieval jerk?). Even against his better judgment he is very much on her side throughout the whole novel.

Juliet is spunky and takes her responsibilities seriously. However, she behaves a bit like a ninny at times and tends to suffer from the historical-heroine-self-sacrifice-syndrome (especially in her insistence that she must protect her father at all costs so he can pursue his strange chemical experiments in peace). As irritating as this kind of behaviour was, it was nice to see that the hero acts as a corrective influence in that respect.

The happy ending could have been a bit more convincing, but all in all, Georgina Devon's THE RAKE was a truly enjoyable read.

Musings on Historicals (Rant Alert!)

(Yes, it's true: I'm reading historicals again. And not just historicals written by friends and favourite authors. He.)

I guess it's no secret that I love Beauty and the Beast stories (after all, I've written one of these myself). And it's no secret either that I enjoy stories in which the hero and heroine are adversaries at first, and not just of the "gosh, he's such an old bore" variety, but of the "gargh! I hate his/her guts!" (yup, 've written some of these myself as well). I also love a good "pursued/married for revenge" tale (hello, Mills&Boon Modern Romances / Harlequin Presents!). And I've got nothing against medievals either, even if the men are bit rougher and gruffer than in most of the Regency romances (Wheee!!! for Penelope Williamson's Keeper of the Dream!).

BUT!

I have absolutely no patience whatsoever for a medieval hero

• who is repeatedly cruel to the heroine for no reason but his surly disposition
• who doesn't consider any of her wishes, but orders her around just because he's the lord of the castle and must be obeyed
• who is feared by the women in his own frigging castle
• who has sex with the heroine for several weeks or even months without ever taking care of her pleasure
• who regards the heroine as a brood mare for about 2/3 of the novel

And after all of that I'm supposed to believe in a happily ever after for this couple?? *snort* I think not!

Betthupferl

Wouldn't you love to bake him a cookie or two to cheer the poor thing up? *g*

Good night, everybody!

Random Observations

When making interesting, thought-provoking additions to your manuscript by hand, make sure you'll able to decipher your own handwriting later on ....

Hmph.

I mean, "[...] his flut-grey eyes lit by smile [...]"?????

Moveable and Pop-Up Books

As an experienced abebooks customer (which translates into "spent an awful lot of money on an awful lot of lovely old books"), I'm getting newsletters from several booksellers. My favourite, however, is the newsletter of Stella & Rose's Books. Stella Books in Tintern carries rare and OUP books on all subjects, while Rose's Books in Hay-on-Wye specialises in children's books. Their monthly newsletter doesn't just include a sample of their new stock and a selection of their rare books, but also and more importantly an article on an author or illustrator, on a specific narrative motif, or on any other topic that has got something to do with books.

This month, the article is about moveable and pop-up books. As always, the text is well-informed and is accompanied by several pictures. These articles are a great promotional tool: they always make me want to rush and buy as many of the featured books as possible. *g*

Rambling Thoughts on Flashbacks and the Like

As you know I'm currently fleshing out BETRAYAL. And as you also know the story is a bit of an unusual romance as the hero and heroine don't meet in the first few chapters. To make up for this fact I've added some flashbacks -- not fully developed scenes but snatches of memories that are haunting Georgina.

They were inspired by a scene from BRITISH ISLES - A NATURAL HISTORY: Alan Titchmarsh watches a barn owl hunt at dusk and muses that it must have appeared to our ancestors like a ghost. And --bingo! English field + typical British bird + ghost = haunting memory:

Once the floodgate had been opened, there was no escape from the memories that rose to the surface of her mind as giant seamonsters rose from the depths of the ocean to swallow up the unwary seafarer.

Being surrounded by all those dead birds did not help. They seemed to swirl around her in a grotesque roundelay, intertwining past and present. There was the white face of the barn owl, its smooth outlines destroyed by moths, the eyes two jetblack, dull marbles. Yet in front of Georgina's inner eye it spread its wings and flew away, over wide, open fields, a noiseless ghost in the soft, grey light of dusk. How often had she stood and watched its brethren fly across the gently rolling hills before she had walked towards the golden lights of the ancient mansion at the edge of the lake, where water lilies bloomed, white and pure.

And then she would enter his study, and he would look up, a smile spreading across his face until he seemed to glow from within. "How I missed you," he would say. "Do you know how much?"

"No, I'm not sure," she would answer. "How much?"

And he would rise and walk towards her with slow, measured steps, so self-assured as if he were Apollo himself, while delicious warmth would spread through her and make all of her limbs tingle with anticipation. He would stop in front of her, so close she could smell him, the starch of his shirt, the [flowery? woodsy?]* cologne he preferred, and underneath -- the dark, alluring scent of the man himself. He would lower his head until his breath tickled over her cheek, until he could whisper into her ear with a voice softer than velvet, "Then allow me to show you ..."

It's a nice challenge to find ways to describe this blurring of the present into the past and to find suitable triggers for those flashbacks that also move the story along and show some of Georgina and Ash's former attachment. Hmmm ....

Why Connie Brockway Is Evil

In case you didn't yet know: Connie Brockway, romance author, is an evil temptress. Oh yes. She is.

Why? you ask.

Well, not only will she have a new historical out in February (and will thus keep me from doing all kinds of important things like ... oh ... correcting exams) (and there's a kitty-cat on the cover, too!), but she also has a page with research books on her website. Can you imagine? I've told you this woman is pure evil! *g*

So after visiting her website sometime last week, I felt compelled to order The Thesaurus of Slang AND Daily Life in Victorian England. (I told myself I needed the latter for my Elizabeth Gaskell seminar.) (I totally need it for my Elizabeth Gaskell seminar! Just think of what my poor students would be missing if I wouldn't have ordered that book!!! Buckets of invaluable information would remain lying unclaimed among the pages of Gaskell's novels.*)

*Of course, we might take many generous doses of Richard Armitage in North and South to make up for the lack, but this would be highly unacademic, wouldn't it?

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Take

• one book on postmodernism (Christoph Butler's Postmodernism: A Very Short Introduction is not too bad -- and it's so short you can read it in one sitting on one morning, and afterwards you can tell yourself you did truly heroic things for your dratted PhD project!)
• a few of David Wiesner's picture books
• one set of cozy mystery series (one episode of Miss Marple and one or two of Murder She Wrote will do)
• a good dose of Richard Armitage (if you can't get hold of the real thing -- pity! -- you might want to try, say, North and South instead)
• one comfy couch
• a pot of hot tea
• a cuddly cat to cuddle

Stir well and enjoy! :)

Please send me good vibes

Tomorrow we will have to let the vet put Jago to sleep. And I don't know how I shall get through this day tomorrow, even though I know it will be the best for the kitty.

Chatterblog Interrupted ...

... because of kitty-crisis. Again. *sigh*

British History in Focus: Here Comes a Beaker Person

I've just posted a new entry on my academic blog, Books, Cats and Me. As I'm still trying to put together a series of podcasts about our Culture Studies 1 course, it's about British history once again, namely about the Beaker People.

Penny Jordan asks: Who reads my novels?

Well, I do! :)

I've read this one (and loved, loved, loved it!!!) (can you say amnesia story?):


And I've read this one (though that was the only one of her books I really disliked):


And I've read this one, too:

And this one, of course (hmmm, lovely!):

And a few more. I've even blogged about one of them.

Visiting the LiMo, the Museum of Modern Literature

Last month, when I was at the conference in Tübingen, I also visited the German Archives for Literature (Deutsches Literaturarchiv) in Marbach* (this was the end-of-conference excursion), or to be more exact, the Museum of Modern Literature. And it was just -- wow!

The set-up of the museum's main room is rather intriguing: four rows of display cases made entirely of glass so you can look at the displayed books and manuscripts from all sides. When you walk down the length of the room, you proceed forward in time, from the early 20th century until today, while widthways you proceed from manuscript to finished book to objects connected to the author or to the book (e.g. a razor, a pocket pistol, a Christening spoon, letters from readers, photos).

For me, the most exciting object on display was the typoscript of Michael Ende's DIE UNENDLICHE GESCHICHTE. He's been such an important author for me, and the Neverending Story and the JIM KNOPF books were three of my favourite novels during my childhood and teens.
* Friedrich Schiller was born in Marbach. Hence the statue of Schiller.

The Good Morning Post: Ponderings on Alexander McCall-Smith

For several years I've kept hearing praises of Alexander McCall-Smith. However, due to a somewhat unsatisfactory paper I once heard at a conference, I had never picked up any of his books (if truth is to be told, I suspect I'm somewhat fussy about people; after all, it's a bit irational to take a dislike to a person one has barely met -- and then to transfer this dislike to an author the person in question has talked about). But, as I said, I kept hearing praises about his books, so a few weeks ago when Fictionwise sold all books at half price, one of the novels I bought was THE SUNDAY PHILOSOPHY CLUB. What endeared this book to me was A) the fact that it's set in Edinburgh, one of my favourite cities, and B) the intriguing beginning.

So after the book-disaster I mentioned yesterday (did not finish book; actually, it was anthology, but really, I feel no inclination whatsoever to see whether the other two stories are better than that horrible, horrible first one), I started reading the second book in McCall-Smith's series, FRIENDS, LOVERS, CHOCOLATE -- and I'm happy to say nobody had any kind of sex (bunny or otherwise) on pages 1, 2, or 3 (yay), instead we followed a man walking down a street in Edinburgh. And I discovered that it's an absolute thrill to read about settings that you are familiar with in real life:

The man in the brown Harris tweed overcoat -- double-breasted with three small leather-covered buttons on the cuffs -- made his way slowly along the street that led down the spine of Edinburgh. He was aware of the seagulls which had drifted in from the shore [...]

Of course, he's walking on the Mile, that long, long street which stretches all the way from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace. When I read this sentence, I immediately remembered walking up and down that street myself, past St. Giles, with its curiously shaped tower, past that kiltmaker's shop, and -- oh -- that lovely, lovely bookstore that sold old children's books.

And then, a page or so along (it's difficult to tell when you're reading an e-book), McCall-Smith even mentions the World's End:

The man reached the St. Mary's Street crossroads. On the corner to his right was a pub, the World's End, a place of resort for fiddlers and singers [...]

If you've read Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series, you know, of course, that the World's End is mentioned in THE VOYAGER. So when I first visited Edinburgh, this was a place of pilgrimage for me, in a manner of speaking. I still think very fondly of the World's End -- such a curious name, isn't it? -- and of its colourful, gay pub sign. Of course, I used it in HIGHLAND LOVE, that unpublished contemporary of mine, set for the most part in a remote village in the Highlands of Scotland. So yes, it was a very nice surprise indeed, to pass along that pub in McCall-Smith's novel.

That said, FRIENDS, LOVERS, CHOCOLATE is supposed to be a mystery novel (at least it's sold as such), but by now I've reached chapter nine -- and nothing mysterious has happened so far. Instead, the story is moving along in a rather aimless fashion, or so it seems to be. I couldn't even tell you what the central conflict is. Or what the book is really about. *scratching my head* At this point I'm actually growing impatient with the story. Hmmph.

It seems I'm not very good at picking my books these days ...

What I don't want to read about in contemporaries

1. Protagonists who meet each other for the very first time on page 1, rip the clothes off each other on page 2 and proceed to have wild bunny sex on page 3.


2. Protagonists who meet each other for the very first time on page 1, rip the clothes off each other on page 2 and proceed to have wild bunny sex on page 3 -- thereby skipping the "Hi, my name is Ralph, what's yours?" stage completely. While this might constitue normal behaviour for people at college (or not), I expect romance characters to behave in a somewhat more mature fashion.


3. Protagonists who meet each other for the very first time on page 1, rip the clothes off each other on page 2 and proceed to have wild bunny sex on page 3 -- even though the heroine is a virgin.


4. Heroes who've slept with half of the world's female population before they meet the heroine. (Ugh.)


5. (Ex-)virgin-heroines who've slept with hero on page 3, decided he was jerk, and then spent countless sleepless nights thinking about the jerk whose name they've never got to know because of all the hurried clothes-ripping on page 2 and the aforementioned wild bunny sex on page 3.

(Gargh! Why oh why did I buy this book???)

Weekly Update

Have not yet entered BEWITCHED in the RITA contest, but have instead submitted workshop proposals for the 2009 RWA National Conference. Sarah Frantz has put together an academic panel so we can introduce our research in romance to the romance writers' community (and show them that academics are not necessary teh eeeeebil) (really, we aren't, even if some of us style themselves Horror-Something). I've also submitted a proposal for a workshop on research -- I got some nice feedback for "No iPods for Regency Rakes" and decided I'd give it a try and see whether the RWA Powers That Be like it, too. Fingers crossed! :)

Speaking of Horror-Somethings, I'm so no Horror-Anything: I even feel bad about being mean to the characters in Animal Crossing. (Duh.) Still, hitting them over the head with your butterfly catcher and watching them freak out is sort of fun... *GGG*



Watched the first two episodes of series seven of SPOOKS and drooled over Richard Armitage (naturally). Though you can't help wanting to feed the poor guy some chocolate cake to fatten him up. Or cookies. ;-)



Spent my Saturday afternoon preparing one of my Monday classes and it turned out that we're not going to have so much of a discussion about North & South, but about the British bookmarket and technological improvements in the 19th century. Ah well, they should hear this at least once during their studies. It certainly won't hurt them.