Jessica Knauss's Blog, page 24

Along the Far Shores by Kristin Gleeson

I'm happy to be able to write this review on the occasion of Along the Far Shores 's new copyedited edition. This inspired, unusual tale now reaches readers free of errors.

All Aisling wants is to be near her brother. Since their parents died, he's all she has. His half-hearted attempts to marry her off to an aging lord before he embarks on a ship to "the western lands" leaves her undaunted. She stows away and makes herself useful on board until an Atlantic storm gives the first villain of the book the chance to toss her overboard.

Her good fortune washes her ashore somewhere on the Yucatán in the care of two misfits. Caxna, from the far north, is completely foreign to Aisling, but he seems trustworthy from the first moments. The rest of the novel keeps up a fast pace but simultaneously takes the time to let the reader feel Aisling becoming more familiar with her surroundings and more aware of the stakes of the next journey she embarks on with Caxna.

On the way to their final destination, Ailsing and Caxna meet new people who are not always what they seem, face betrayals, and save each others' lives. The detailed, well researched, portrayal of cities in twelfth-century Mexico and the American South made me feel I had been there. Normally, when today's readers pick up a book about the twelfth century, the European setting itself is the foreign country. Seeing America from Aisling's point of view brought both worlds into intimate focus.

Along the Far Shores has sympathetic characters and great villains, unforgettable settings and an ending that satisfies thoroughly without spelling out exactly what happens to the characters, leaving some room for the reader's imagination. I recommend it to any reader who's looking for something different.

Read about the inspiration for this unique book here.

This is the second book I'm counting toward my 2015 reading goal. The other book I've completed in 2015:
Eleanor & Park  by Rainbow Rowell

Thank You For a Life Making People Feel Happy

The happiest day of 2014One of the biggest events of this past autumn for me and many other fans was the release of Manolo García's latest album, Todo es ahora ("Everything is Now"). The digital copies were never made available for download in the US, so I had to order the double CD from a French company doing business in Spain and charging enough money for shipping to mortgage a vacation home.

But I can't really complain. I received the disk the day after its European release with liner notes signed by Manolo García himself! How unexpected and wonderful. I can verify the signature because of a previous signed-item-by-mail-adventure.

I mention all this because the joy I and so many others have derived from the simple pleasure of Manolo's musical artistic expression is so great as to defy description. Which makes this song all the more surprising:

"Last Night I Dreamed of David Bowie"
Manolo García 2014 (translated by Jessica Knauss)

Last night I dreamed of David Bowie.
I ran into him on the street and said as we passed,
"I don't want to bother you, sir, but I must tell you
thank you, thank you so much."

Thank you for a life making people happy
Thank you for a life making people feel happy 
Thank you for that life, for that breath of life

He whispered something, then turned around,
drying a tear that welled up
from the center of the Earth.
From his mouth flew butterflies.

I woke up thinking that each of us plays our own cards.
I woke up thinking that each of us uses up our foundations.

When I first heard this song, of course I thought, "No, Manolo, thank YOU." That one of the most beautifully creative people in the world has another artist to look up to gives hope to everyone who plies an artistic trade. And, as the final verses indicate, we all have something to share from our own well of creativity.

¡Gracias, Manolo! To all writers, singers, painters, actors, etc, famous and obscure: thank you! Art is what makes life more than survival.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

The author of this delightful book takes the opportunity of her characters sitting through a class on Romeo and Juliet to explain in the most convincing reasoning I've heard why adults want to read about teenagers: because people want to remember what it was like to be young.

Eleanor and Park are a few years older than I was in 1986, but their experiences of school and pop culture were still a blast from the past. The authentic details pull the reader in to intimate scenes where Eleanor and Park meet, on the bus, where clothing, hair, sounds, and fragrances make a difference in the lives of the characters. These small, believable, unbelievably tender moments build up to the sort of frenzied crescendo I can't get enough of. There are no death-defying moments in this book, but in the scale of the story, the climax fits perfectly. The reader feels exactly what each of the characters feels.

The idea to switch points of view was risky, but is helped by the consistency and the label at the top of each switch. I wasn't sure it would work in the long run, but getting both Eleanor's and Park's honest appraisal of their gentle yet star-crossed love ended up being hugely satisfying. I picked this book up  because the description mentioned that the lovers know they're doomed, but still try to keep their love alive against all odds, and a review said that it was great for YA readers who were tired of dystopia. While it could be argued that Eleanor's home life is plenty dystopian, this is indeed an optimistic novel that will please everyone's inner romantic.

Since I've read this novel, I've also learned that there's a movie planned. A huge opportunity for a non-skinny actress and an Asian actor!

Out with the Old Word

The Plaza Mayor in Salamanca, Spain, revels in chiaroscuro. Many cultures welcome the new year by throwing out what's old and useless. Some Latin American countries observe this idea symbolically by throwing water out the window or front door.

A step I recently had to take in the revisions of Awash in Talent reminds me of this process. There was a particular word I had delighted in using in a single instance, but every person who reads the novel stumbles on it or objects to it.

For your consideration, the context:

At eight years old, Beth began showing signs of severe allergies. My parents had always made me take her to play with my friends or to the mall on the bus, and you can imagine my annoyance, but those allergies made taking her anywhere completely intolerable. Every step had to be planned out beforehand, by my parents, because I just didn’t have the attention span for the long list of things to avoid doing, being around, or thinking about. I would look longingly at the kiosk for the DMV and Talent Registry, a fascinating study in chiaroscuro. Psychics, telekinetics, and pyrokinetics all had to register as the freaks they were, right alongside the happy fifteen-year-olds I longed to be one of, applying for driving permits. 

The first objection came from my critique group in the Barnes and Noble café. What does "chiaroscuro" mean? Would an eighteen-year-old know that word?

My reaction was that I learned it in high school. Did I go to a great high school? No, I merely paid attention to all words that came my way, and come on, this is a great one. It's an art term, meaning the way the artist contrasts light and shadow. I learned it in drama class, perhaps during the stage makeup unit or when close-reading a play. My high school drama teacher had married an Italian and loved to teach about the Commedia dell'Arte, so that may have something to do with her passing on this word of Italian origin. Until I attempted to use the term, I had no idea that not everyone learned this word when they were fourteen.

As you may be able to tell from the excerpt, the narrator would be a hard person to like in real life. She wouldn't choose her words according to what her audience would understand. She would seek out words to confuse and dazzle her reader, and that's what "chiaroscuro" has done to every reader who's come across it since then. These readers include some of the best educated people I know, in places as diverse as Rhode Island and Ireland.

So I've finally recognized it as a "darling," in the sense that it must be killed. I must accept that Emily's antisocial writing has to be curbed if I'm expecting any readers to keep reading. Out with what's old and doesn't work, in with a great workaday word, "contrast."

Imagine the above paragraph, replacing the "chiaroscuro" phrase with "a fascinating study in contrast." Smoother? Easier? More encouraging? Let's hope 2015 is full of these moments of sanity on my part.

I've been working very hard on Awash in Talent, especially this first part, Hope & Benevolent. The idea fairy has planted the seeds of a sequel! Soon I hope to share some really great news with you about when Awash in Talent will meet readers!

New Year's Resolutions

The Roman god Janus is literally two-faced, but not because he is a double-crosser. His biological peculiarity comes from his lordship over the month that bears his name: January. Living at this month when two years meet, he simultaneously looks back at the past year and ahead to the new one. He is both ending and beginning.

The tension of ending an old year while also starting a new one has inspired people through the ages to make a break with the past and promise to change their ways in the future—New Year's resolutions.

The Babylonians did it, the Romans did it, and medieval knights took the peacock vow. The nature of the promise of self improvement tells us a lot about what's valued in the culture. Have you ever resolved to give more to the poor? Or have your resolutions been more along the lines of losing weight or being more assertive?

My priority is writing. My goals for 2015 include completing revisions on my first two novels, publishing Awash in Talent (the second one), making as yet undefined progress on the third, and writing two short stories (one fantasy and one historical).

Blogging regularly is also on the horizon. Once a week, here we come! (I never thought it would come to this, back in my days of two, three, and four posts per week.)

I received a generous gift that will enable me to make another resolution of utmost importance to me: to read more (without editing). For 2015, I'm going to aim for ten books (mostly novels). Or maybe I should shoot for five and consider anything else a bonus?

I have some ideas already, but am open to suggestions. If my two goals in this are to enjoy the written word and to improve my writing by osmosis, what books would you recommend?

Some of 2014's Gifts

Inspired by Tara Lynne Groth, who blogs from the last place I lived and who was inspired by another blogger, who was inspired by a blogger before that, I'm taking the last day of the year to reflect on 2014. Skimming over the bad news of the year, here are ten things I can consider 2014's gifts.

1. My husband and I moved to the Northeast after five long years away.

2. I got a job working with my two favorite languages, English and Spanish.

3. This job meant that my husband and I could stay in the Northeast.

4. Early snow.

5. No traffic accidents.

6. I finished my second novel, Awash in Talent, and the people who've read it say it's my best writing yet.

7. I got to meet Thelma and Louise.

8. I got to see Harapan.

9. Saxophone Santa.

10. My husband reads to me and sings me Happy Birthday for weeks surrounding the actual day. This amounts to more good fortune than can be counted, period.

Merry, Happy Christmas!

I worked on Christmas Eve (which the company says will be observed on December 26, so it's okay). A lot of "key players" had already started their celebrations off company premises, but the employees who came in were celebrating, too! Colorful sweaters, pizza parties, and bright smiles abounded. Just like Santa's elves, we got our deliverables out, of course, but that's not what I'll remember about this year. I will remember the welcome they gave my husband, who doesn't work there, and a generosity that would make Emmet Otter's Ma say, "Anybody'd be interested!"

To spread the joy, I can't resist these links, which show you how in the Middle Ages, life wasn't quite as nasty, brutish, and short as later critics would have us believe because every year, Christmas came around to brighten it up.

Anglo-Saxon Christmas
Christmas 1065
The Middle Ages in Christmas Today
A Sumptuous Medieval Christmas Feast

Author Kristin Gleeson's Children's Book Inspiration

Kristin Gleeson, already the author of Selkie Dreams and Anahareo , has just released an even more magical (if that's possible) novel, Along the Far Shores. In it, a twelfth-century Irish woman travels to American shores. Even more amazing to consider, the story is based on an ancient legend that may just have a grain of truth in it. Kristin stopped by to share what inspired such an unexpected mixture of cultures.

Inspiration for novels can come from almost anywhere, some unexpected places. For Along the Far Shores, it was especially unusual. When I was a children’s librarian outside of Philadelphia years ago, I was doing some much needed weeding and I came across this book that told about the legend of Prince Madog of Wales’s voyage to America in 1170. It wasn’t a beautifully illustrated picture book; it was a nonfiction text that investigated the legend in order to substantiate its truth.

I was so intrigued, I took it home and read it in a night. I have to confess I’d never heard of the legend before this. I’d heard of Leif Ericsson’s eleventh century voyage along Labrador and that area and of course I heard of the sixth-century voyage of St. Brendan, which again was most likely up in the northern areas of the Americas. Madog’s voyage apparently ended up in Mobile Bay, in what is now Alabama, and he sailed up what is now called the Mad Dog River. All very intriguing.

At the same time, I was writing a novel that looked at the red-haired plaid-clothed mummies that were discovered in the Xinxiang Province in western China. They dated back to about 1500 BC, long before any archaeological evidence of “Celts” or what we group as Celts, though they seemed to share many of the same characteristics in their burial patterns, clothing composition and other items. I loved the idea of it and my novel evolved as two parallel narratives, one in the ancient past that brought a small proto Tlingit group and a proto Irish/Celtic group together, and the present that brought an Irish woman and a Tlingit man together. In the many centuries in between those periods I thought I would write other novels that told the story of similar encounters between the two groups where I could show the two cultures in different periods and the aspects of prejudices and assumptions that each time period might have. Linking all this was a medallion passed down through the centuries and back and forth and appearing in each novel as a connection that means something strongly to one of the characters. 
When I read the Madog tale, it seemed like a wonderful event to use as part of this novel chain. Aisling, an Irish noblewoman, escapes the turmoil in her country only to find a similar situation in Wales, where her brother is serving one of the many princes. She stows away on Madog’s ship in order to be with her brother and is tossed overboard during a storm. She is rescued by a Tlingit trader, Caxna, who reluctantly takes her along his trading journey, first to the declining Mayan city of Xicallanca and then later to Etowah, the powerful city of the Mississippian empire.  For Caxna a successful journey means his clan’s freedom. But Aisling changes everything. 
Very exciting! Along the Far Shores is available in ebook. Visit Kristin's site to learn much more! 

Six Years of Christmas

Having a full time job has made me into one of those people who just can't do it all. This blog has suffered most. I've worked hard on it for years and appreciate every single one of my readers, so my New Year's Resolution will have something to do with establishing a regular schedule here again.

Looking back on the year at this holiday time has brought to mind all the travels (and accompanying emotional ups and downs) my husband and I have done since we met. And so, enjoy photos that represent Christmas through the past six years.

2008 We had been living together in Massachusetts for half a year when Christmas 2008 rolled around, and it was a small apartment and so had only a tiny potted Christmas tree at home. But we had love, and my husband was determined to fulfill a promise he'd made sooner rather than later, so we also had Mickey! At Disneyworld! An unbelievable Christmas.

2009 Christmas 2009 was bare-bones. We had moved to Pennsylvania only days before. But at least we had love, and Saxophone Santa (still our favorite holiday toy). See Saxophone Santa in action here and with a friend here.

2010 The following year, we had placed our stuff in storage and moved in with my gracious sister-in-law in Arizona the previous month. It was the beginning of an explosively creative period in all aspects of my life, but I wasn't aware at the time. Holiday 2010 is represented by fake snow for the wondering Arizonans at the Winterhaven lights display.

2011 By 2011, we had moved to our own apartment in Arizona and both had interesting jobs, and I was writing like crazy. But we hadn't been able to get our stuff out of storage, so at home, we decorated a tree with candy canes and a beautiful compass rose ornament I received from an author who had already become a good friend. This year, we had even more fun at the Winterhaven display because we found this gorgeous Christmas rhino!

2012
We moved from Arizona to Georgia in 2012, but didn't make it to Christmas there. Instead, we went from the boiling pot of water that was summer in Georgia to the icebox winter of Illinois. This was the Christmas my husband realized that I own four giant tubs worth of Christmas decorations, enough to decorate our tree several times over. My mom got me started when I was a kid, and you can't throw away memories like that. I accomplished the amazing feat of finishing my first novel, Seven Noble Knights, in November 2012, and it's commemorated with the cake and the thumb drive, and the new ornament.

2013 Christmas 2013 was probably the most surprising of all, as my husband and I had been living in a hotel in North Carolina since May. We never expected to stay there for so many months, and yet again, our stuff was in storage. We got a little tinsel tree and set it on top of the dehumidifier I insisted on earlier in the year. Those North Carolina summers might be even wetter than the one in Georgia!

2014 And that brings us to this year! In the photo, our tree with a lot, but not all, of the ornaments from the four tubs, stands out in front of a medieval Christmas banner I picked up at a museum in New York City and stacks and piles of other memories. Note the
Finally, this photo was taken on Thanksgiving Day, but the bare trees, the church tower, and roofs covered in snow scream Christmas.

Coming soon: The Other Shakespeare and a guest post from outstanding author Kristin Gleeson!

Happy Holidays!

Happy Thanksgiving with Waterfire

Happy Thanksgiving! When I first showed this excerpt to my critique group, one member said there was too much good stuff going on and I should add some bad stuff back in. I didn't think Thanksgiving was the time to punish my main character, Kelly, who already has a lot of rough life issues to deal with. Kelly and Brian attend the school for fire starters (the PMA), where they are watched and curbed and reigned in at all times. They have to wear patches that contain substances that prevent them from randomly setting things on fire. At Brian's house, things are a little more relaxed.Enjoy! 

Brian took me into the kitchen for a snack and oh my God, there were like a million potluck dishes steaming away on the counters. The ovens and burners were cooking away, too. It was like an army was coming through, and Brian pointed to each dish and told me what it was and whether I could dig in yet. Most of the things were pre-dinner lunch-snacks. We each took a plate of roasted chicken and noodles to the back deck, where they would be able to see the planes coming in if only it weren’t Thanksgiving Day with its small number of flights. No one else was out there—it was freezing!We ate our food and talked about stuff. He complimented my piano playing and I complimented his singing, and because I smelled wood smoke in the air, it made me think of Waterfire.“Brian,” I said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how you can put fires out with your Talent. Do you think it’s something any pyro can learn?”“Yeah,” he said, setting his plate on the railing. “Let’s try it now. Make a fire on my plate. It’s stoneware.”“I can’t. I’m wearing my patch. Aren’t you?”He reached inside his sleeve and pulled out his tungsten patch. “Where do you have yours?”I set my plate down next to his and lifted my shirt a little to reveal the patch next to my bellybutton. The location had worked well yesterday for scratching unseen at the dinner table.His hand was strangely warm as he lifted the side of the patch and tore it off. I guess it was the feel of skin on skin? We gravitated toward each other, I lifted my face and he bent down a little and like magnets, we were all of a sudden kissing.I heard an explosion near my ear and pulled away in time to see sparks falling onto my plate and settling around the leftover noodles and bones, smoking just a bit, and making a decent little blaze.“You didn’t have to do that to get me to make a fire,” I said.“No, I wanted to do that, didn’t you?” he said.“Right now you should put out the fire,” I told him.“No, it’s your fire. You try.”A few adults had come running to the back door at the sound of the explosion, so I felt watched. Brian waved them away, and finally Brian’s dad told them we had it under control. All the while, of course, the blaze was growing in strength and I was getting more and more stressed.“You can put it out now,” said Brian.Easier said than done. I stared at the flames until they looked dark, but couldn’t wrap my head around the way to take them out of existence. I’m still not sure how I get them into existence, after all! I squinted and strained, then looked at Brian for help. “How do you do it?”“I just reverse the process of setting a fire. It’s very intuitive.”I sighed and tried sticking my hand out the way he had at Waterfire, but the only thing that happened was my arm got cold away from my body.“I give up!”“See, this is why we need practice rooms at the PMA. How will any of us ever get familiar with how we operate, how can we focus our intentions, when all they ever do is throw flame retardant at us?” He held his hand out and sucked my fire into his finger with no apparent effort, like he’d been doing it all his life.He blew on the end of his finger like it was a pistol or something and came in for a hug.“Back to the piano for a while?” he asked me.
I nodded, and when he went to open the back door, I scooped up the patch he’d ripped off me and pressed it under my shirt again. It had some dirt and twigs, but it was a lot better than setting fire to his family home.
Waterfire, the middle story of Awash in Talent, will be published in 2015!