Rohase Piercy's Blog, page 5
April 15, 2020
More magic at large in London ...
Moon Over Soho by Ben AaronovitchMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Thanks to those of you who urged me to stick with this series after I expressed some niggles over 'Rivers Of London' – with 'Moon Over Soho' I can see that Aaronovitch is getting into his stride.
DC Peter Grant, officer of the Met and apprentice wizard, is called upon to deal with the suspicious number of Jazz musicians dropping down dead immediately after a performance. It's not just that an element of magic is suspected – there's also the fact that Peter's Dad, Richard 'Lord' Grant, had a promising career as a jazz trumpeter back in the day, so he's uniquely placed to do a bit of undercover research. Meanwhile Peter's boss, DCI Thomas Nightingale (last officially sanctioned British Wizard, in charge of the specialist section of the Met known as 'The Folly') wants him to concentrate on the disturbing increase in the number of men whose one-night stands are being cut short, literally, by the loss of their penises. Could there possibly be a connection?
It seems there's a practitioner of Black Magic at loose amongst the dives of Soho – though our hero Peter, a politically correct officer of dual heritage, is averse to the term, preferring 'ethically challenged magical practitioner':
'You realise that we're using “black” in its metaphorical sense here,' said Nightingale.
'It doesn't matter,' I said. 'Words change what they mean, don't they? Some people would call me a black magician.'
'You're not a magician,' he said. 'You're barely even an apprentice.'
Anyway, be that as it may, there's a lot to keep our hero busy in this adventure, including a curvy young – or possibly not so young – femme fatale with a voracious sexual appetite, a penchant for Valerie's Patisserie and an alluring whiff of honeysuckle about her. Careful, Peter, you idiot.
Poor DC Lesley May, whose face was stretched out of all recognition after being possessed by Mr Punch in 'Rivers of London' is still on the scene, bravely fighting her disfigurement ... and lest we forget that running through all this is the mighty River and its tributaries, Tyburn makes another bitchy appearance and our hero gets a dunking in Mama Thames' treacherous choppy waters whilst attempting to save upstream tributary Ash from emasculation.
I still think the editing is a bit sloppy – there are a few grammatical mistakes – and the ending was a bit disappointing, not as neat and satisfying as I'd like – but I shall definitely carry on with this series. Meanwhile my friends, 'may the blessings of the River be upon you.'
View all my reviews
April 10, 2020
Where does true happiness lie?
Happiness by Aminatta FornaMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is a beautifully written book, that starts with the chance encounter of two strangers on Waterloo Bridge: a Ghanaian psychiatrist, Dr Attila, in London for a conference, and an American naturalist, Jean, who is conducting a study into the lives of urban foxes.
What follows is a series of significant co-incidences; a search for a missing boy; an exploration of the hidden networks, both human and animal, that connect hidden lives all across the city; a hesitant romance; and a gentle exhumation of those real and precious values that are conducive to real happiness, presented to us polished and glowing amongst all the dross and sludge that constitute the pursuit of power, money, recognition and respectability in Western life.
There is also a gentle critique of our modern obsession with mental health, particularly PTSD. Having spent his professional life dealing with the aftermath of war, terror and tyranny as well as his own share of human suffering, Dr Attila questions the belief that suffering inevitably leads to damage; rather, trauma and suffering can, if properly handled, lead to beneficial change. To quote the final sentences of the penultimate chapter:
"Now you see that all of the weakness is not in them, those who live through the agony, who survive and transform into something else, but in others too. Here." He swept out an arm, to take in the room, the building, the city, and what lay beyond. The whole of it.
A wonderful exploration of the human condition, and a celebration of the true foundations of happiness.
View all my reviews
April 5, 2020
Review: Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch
Rivers of London by Ben AaronovitchMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
London's hidden rivers, Gods and Magic – what's not to like? As a Londoner by birth, the Thames is in my blood; as a Pagan by religion, I'm fascinated by its sacred, ancient spirit. I couldn't wait to get stuck into this and it didn't disappoint, though I found the style a bit hurried and sketchy in places.
PC Peter Grant is recruited by a little-known subsection of the Metropolitan police as an apprentice wizard, to help tackle cases of supernatural crime. It seems that Mr Punch, that old anti-hero, is alive and well and going around murdering people in the vicinity of Covent Garden, and the only reliable witness to the initial sequence of events is a ghost who haunts the portico of the Actors' Church. As Peter and his enigmatic superior, Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, investigate this bizarre crimewave they are drawn into the ongoing dispute between Mother Thames, who rules the tidal section of the River, and Father Thames, who hold sway from the source to Teddington Lock; and all the tributary rivers, some of them encased underground such as the Fleet and the Tyburn, have agendas of their own to add to the mix.
It's great stuff, and although I got annoyed at a couple of grammatical errors that a good editor would surely have picked up, and felt that in general there could have been a bit more depth to the whole thing, I ended up hungry for more, and will definitely be reading more of this series. It was a close call between three and four stars, so I'm giving it three and a half.
View all my reviews
April 1, 2020
Pandemic Literature, past and present!
Well April Fools Day is upon us, and I don't suppose any of us are feeling in the mood for practical jokes in the present climate ... how are you coping? Here in the UK we're on a lockdown-with-perks – we're allowed to go out for a walk every day as long as we're not displaying symptoms of Covid-19, we're allowed shopping trips, medical errands and travel to work if our work is absolutely necessary. Of course, one immediate eye-opener is just whose work IS absolutely necessary - NHS workers (doctors, nurses, auxiliaries and cleaners), care workers, delivery drivers, supermarket employees, bus drivers – all those low-paid, undervalued jobs that have suddenly been revealed to be SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT than banking, fashion, interior design and the whole celebrity bandwagon. If pay rises and bonuses aren't given out at the end of all this, it will be a grave miscarriage of justice! There are also some wonderful community initiatives springing up, offering food delivery and support networks to the elderly and vulnerable on a purely voluntary basis. There's a lot of goodness and generosity out there, amongst all the selfishness and stupidity.
Anyway, whatever the restrictions in place where you are, I'll bet one of the first corporate casualties has been in the sphere of arts and culture – museums, art galleries, exhibitions, theatres, all closed. And yet it's precisely times like this, apparently, that nurture great works of art and literature. The plagues that ravaged Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries inspired Tintoretto and Van Dyck to some of their greatest work, and Daniel Defoe to write his A Journal of the Plague Year; Edvard Much's famous 'Influenza' self-portrait was a response to the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918, as was Katherine Anne Porter's Pale Horse, Pale Rider; Giovanni Boccaccio's Il Decamerone (The Decameron), described by scholars as 'part of the knowledge base of civilisation as we know it' was written in 1353 in the wake of the Black Death; and William Shakespeare allegedly wrote King Lear, Macbeth and Anthony and Cleopatra during a plague outbreak in 1606, when the closure of the Globe Theatre offered him time out for reflection and creativity.
If you're on Facebook (and no doubt on other social media) you'll already have noticed an outburst of creativity in response to Covid-19. Poets are springing up everywhere, posting verses of varying merit and saccharine levels for friends to like and share; singer-songwriters are making the most of the opportunity to serenade a captive audience with off-key renditions of their own work; wellbeing practitioners have taken their business online, offering not only private sessions but also cardio-vascular workouts, mindfulness meditations and general pep talks via Zoom and whatever; and there's a whole spate of inventive scatological humour doing the rounds to help us see the funny side of all this.
And writers? Well, some of us certainly seem to have found the Muse in self-isolation: my friend Magenta Wise, for instance, has finally completed her magnum opus on the Twelve Archetypes, the culmination of a lifetime's work, and I see from his blog that fellow Sherlockian author Dan Andriacco has been similarly busy! I, on the other hand, have so far gone the other way. It seems that what with everything else winding down, my creative faculties have decided to go into sleep mode as well. Maybe it's an incubation period (not a phrase we particularly want to dwell on at present), and the Muse will awaken me when the time is right; maybe I've become disheartened after basking in the genius of a true wordsmith, namely Wolf Hall Trilogy 3 Books Collection Set By Hilary Mantel. But at the moment I'm doing very little, apart from getting bits of shopping in for self-isolating neighbours and making phone calls to friends and relatives in need of cheering up.
Thank Boris for my daily walk! The cows that graze the South Downs have given birth to lovely calves in the fields above our village; daffodils, primroses and celandine are sprinkling the green with splashes of gold; the blackbird is singing in our Cypress tree again; and Spring is rejoicing all around us regardless of human catastrophe, reminding us that life on this planet can go on quite happily without us, and that renewal is possible. Let's hope that as a species we'll take those two lessons to heart, and bring something good out of all this - something more fundamental than a book, a poem or a painting - a sincere change of heart.
Anyway, whatever the restrictions in place where you are, I'll bet one of the first corporate casualties has been in the sphere of arts and culture – museums, art galleries, exhibitions, theatres, all closed. And yet it's precisely times like this, apparently, that nurture great works of art and literature. The plagues that ravaged Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries inspired Tintoretto and Van Dyck to some of their greatest work, and Daniel Defoe to write his A Journal of the Plague Year; Edvard Much's famous 'Influenza' self-portrait was a response to the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918, as was Katherine Anne Porter's Pale Horse, Pale Rider; Giovanni Boccaccio's Il Decamerone (The Decameron), described by scholars as 'part of the knowledge base of civilisation as we know it' was written in 1353 in the wake of the Black Death; and William Shakespeare allegedly wrote King Lear, Macbeth and Anthony and Cleopatra during a plague outbreak in 1606, when the closure of the Globe Theatre offered him time out for reflection and creativity.
If you're on Facebook (and no doubt on other social media) you'll already have noticed an outburst of creativity in response to Covid-19. Poets are springing up everywhere, posting verses of varying merit and saccharine levels for friends to like and share; singer-songwriters are making the most of the opportunity to serenade a captive audience with off-key renditions of their own work; wellbeing practitioners have taken their business online, offering not only private sessions but also cardio-vascular workouts, mindfulness meditations and general pep talks via Zoom and whatever; and there's a whole spate of inventive scatological humour doing the rounds to help us see the funny side of all this.
And writers? Well, some of us certainly seem to have found the Muse in self-isolation: my friend Magenta Wise, for instance, has finally completed her magnum opus on the Twelve Archetypes, the culmination of a lifetime's work, and I see from his blog that fellow Sherlockian author Dan Andriacco has been similarly busy! I, on the other hand, have so far gone the other way. It seems that what with everything else winding down, my creative faculties have decided to go into sleep mode as well. Maybe it's an incubation period (not a phrase we particularly want to dwell on at present), and the Muse will awaken me when the time is right; maybe I've become disheartened after basking in the genius of a true wordsmith, namely Wolf Hall Trilogy 3 Books Collection Set By Hilary Mantel. But at the moment I'm doing very little, apart from getting bits of shopping in for self-isolating neighbours and making phone calls to friends and relatives in need of cheering up.
Thank Boris for my daily walk! The cows that graze the South Downs have given birth to lovely calves in the fields above our village; daffodils, primroses and celandine are sprinkling the green with splashes of gold; the blackbird is singing in our Cypress tree again; and Spring is rejoicing all around us regardless of human catastrophe, reminding us that life on this planet can go on quite happily without us, and that renewal is possible. Let's hope that as a species we'll take those two lessons to heart, and bring something good out of all this - something more fundamental than a book, a poem or a painting - a sincere change of heart.
February 26, 2020
Bookshelf Blitz
Well February is supposed to be a month of purification, in anticipation of Spring – at least, it was in Ancient Rome, and of course we still usually have Lent beginning in February – and being a votary of Juno, who presides over this month as Lucina, Bringer of Light and Februata, Purifier, I've been doing stuff like cleaning windows and getting rid of clutter. Not that there's much opportunity for clutter to accumulate in the little one-bed annexe that Mr B and I call home - we always have to throw something out if we acquire something new, and that includes books, which if space were no object would be lining the walls of our well-stocked library!
So I did my yearly routine of going through the shelves and taking out every book that it wasn't strictly necessary to keep – my usual rule of thumb being to hang on to reference books and weed out novels, unless they're by Jane Austen, one of the Brontes or Susanna Clarke. I did pretty well this year and carted off a big bag of paperbacks to the charity shop – thereby leaving a vacant shelf to fill with a genre that will not under any circumstances be culled - fiction and non-fiction written by friends, both the online and the real life variety. I now have a special shelf dedicated to my Goodreads Author friends, and here's what's on it!
By Jill Bush: Lionel Morris and the Red Baron: Air War on the Somme
By Julie Bozza: No Holds Bard: Modern LGBTQ+ fiction inspired by the works of William Shakespeare and The Butterfly Hunter Trilogy
By Val Brown: toupie lowther her life
By Veronica Doubleday: Three Women of Herat
By Jill Gardiner: From the Closet to the Screen: Women at the Gateways Club 1945-85 and 'With Some Wild Woman' (poetry collection).
By Elinor Gray: Compound a Felony: A Queer Affair of Sherlock Holmes and 'The Adventure of the Doctor and the Duellist (short story published by the John H Watson Society).
By Richard Gough-Buijs: Ooh Yes I Woof!: The Adventures of a Miniature Schnauzer
By Bryn Hammond: Against Walls
By Narrelle M. Harris: The Adventure of the Colonial Boy
By Angela Patmore: The Silent Songs Of Owen Parsnip and Doggerel: The Moving Memoirs of Rescue Dogs and Their Second Lives - In Poetry and Prose; and The Dog Revolution (as 'Owen Parsnip').
By Charlie Raven: The Compact and of course A Case of Domestic Pilfering which was originally her story!
By Maggie Redding: The Education of Mattie Dobson and The Incident
By Jane Traies: Now You See Me: Lesbian Life Stories and her Jay Taverner books Rebellion; Hearts and Minds; and Something Wicked
By Christine Webb: After Babel and Catching Your Breath
By Magenta Wise: Messages are Dancing in the Rain: and other poems and Kill & Cure: Short Stories
and by Lexi Wolfe: Women Of Forgotten Importance: Three Stories
Until last week, I had no idea I knew so many Goodreads authors! Thanks you so much, all of you, for your writing, your generosity and your friendship, and here's to a creative year for all of us!
So I did my yearly routine of going through the shelves and taking out every book that it wasn't strictly necessary to keep – my usual rule of thumb being to hang on to reference books and weed out novels, unless they're by Jane Austen, one of the Brontes or Susanna Clarke. I did pretty well this year and carted off a big bag of paperbacks to the charity shop – thereby leaving a vacant shelf to fill with a genre that will not under any circumstances be culled - fiction and non-fiction written by friends, both the online and the real life variety. I now have a special shelf dedicated to my Goodreads Author friends, and here's what's on it!
By Jill Bush: Lionel Morris and the Red Baron: Air War on the Somme
By Julie Bozza: No Holds Bard: Modern LGBTQ+ fiction inspired by the works of William Shakespeare and The Butterfly Hunter Trilogy
By Val Brown: toupie lowther her life
By Veronica Doubleday: Three Women of Herat
By Jill Gardiner: From the Closet to the Screen: Women at the Gateways Club 1945-85 and 'With Some Wild Woman' (poetry collection).
By Elinor Gray: Compound a Felony: A Queer Affair of Sherlock Holmes and 'The Adventure of the Doctor and the Duellist (short story published by the John H Watson Society).
By Richard Gough-Buijs: Ooh Yes I Woof!: The Adventures of a Miniature Schnauzer
By Bryn Hammond: Against Walls
By Narrelle M. Harris: The Adventure of the Colonial Boy
By Angela Patmore: The Silent Songs Of Owen Parsnip and Doggerel: The Moving Memoirs of Rescue Dogs and Their Second Lives - In Poetry and Prose; and The Dog Revolution (as 'Owen Parsnip').
By Charlie Raven: The Compact and of course A Case of Domestic Pilfering which was originally her story!
By Maggie Redding: The Education of Mattie Dobson and The Incident
By Jane Traies: Now You See Me: Lesbian Life Stories and her Jay Taverner books Rebellion; Hearts and Minds; and Something Wicked
By Christine Webb: After Babel and Catching Your Breath
By Magenta Wise: Messages are Dancing in the Rain: and other poems and Kill & Cure: Short Stories
and by Lexi Wolfe: Women Of Forgotten Importance: Three Stories
Until last week, I had no idea I knew so many Goodreads authors! Thanks you so much, all of you, for your writing, your generosity and your friendship, and here's to a creative year for all of us!
February 14, 2020
An interesting trip down memory lane ...
Can't believe I've only just got round to reading From the Closet to the Screen: Women at the Gateways Club 1945-85 by my friend Jill Gardiner, following the history and fortunes of the Gateways Club from its beginnings as a mixed venue in the 1930s with a reputation for welcoming 'outsiders (blacks, gays, 'theatrical types'), to its closure in 1985, having earned the reputation of being Europe's premier lesbian club.
Many, of course, will be familiar with 'The Gates' from the 1968 film 'The Killing Of Sister George', starring Beryl Reid and Susannah York (pictured on the front cover); the 'Gateways Scene' featured genuine regulars, who share their memories of all the excitement surrounding the filming, and their opinions of the three female leads. Some of us have more personal memories - including one from Yours Truly, quoted on page 212 with a reminiscence from 1977!
It's the personal stories from the women who found refuge, acceptance, solidarity, fun and romance at the Gates that make this an absolutely fascinating read, and we learn a lot about the changing reactions of mainstream society towards gay women from their stories. An absolute gem!
Many, of course, will be familiar with 'The Gates' from the 1968 film 'The Killing Of Sister George', starring Beryl Reid and Susannah York (pictured on the front cover); the 'Gateways Scene' featured genuine regulars, who share their memories of all the excitement surrounding the filming, and their opinions of the three female leads. Some of us have more personal memories - including one from Yours Truly, quoted on page 212 with a reminiscence from 1977!
It's the personal stories from the women who found refuge, acceptance, solidarity, fun and romance at the Gates that make this an absolutely fascinating read, and we learn a lot about the changing reactions of mainstream society towards gay women from their stories. An absolute gem!
January 20, 2020
New Year, new ships launched ...
A very belated Happy New Year to all! I hope 2020 has been treating you well so far and that all your New Year's Resolutions are going well and all your creative projects blossoming. Sending special thoughts and wishes to those of you in Oz, especially if you're affected by the bush fires and subsequent rainstorms … my youngest daughter is spending the first part of the year in Brisbane, so I've been following it all closely. Stay strong.
While we're on the subject of the environment, there's a fascinating blog on here from Goodreads author Manda Scott. As well as being a brilliant wordsmith, Manda is a shamanic practitioner who trained as a veterinary surgeon, so she combines spiritual practice with a sound knowledge of neuro-biology and neuro-plasticity. 'Accidental Gods' is a new initiative she's launching in response to the climate/extinction emergency. I've listened to her podcasts (four so far in all) and found them very inspiring - unlike some exponents of 'alternative spirituality' she's not at all airy-fairy. If you're interested in a spiritual approach to the current emergency that's also firmly rooted in science, check out the website:
https://accidentalgods.life/about/
Last week I had the pleasure of attending the launch of New Writing South's 'Hear Us Out' project in Brighton (free wine & canapes, what's not to like?) It was fascinating to hear, and in one case see performed, some of the stories they've been collecting from older LGBTQ people. I've now put myself down to take part in one of their writing workshops, which I'm looking forward to (and you can bet I'm gonna make sure they haven't forgotten the 'B' in the acronym amongst all these stories they've collected!) If anyone reading this lives near Brighton, UK, and is interested in getting involved, here's a link with some info:
https://newwritingsouth.com/call-for-...…
Finally, back in October I wrote about the impending launch of an online magazine, Wyrd Sisters, Ink, that I'm working on with fellow Goodreads authors Jane Traies, Charlie Raven and Maggie Redding. It's still happening, we've put together a great combination of articles, but we've run into some difficulties on the technical front and may have to modify the format somewhat. So watch this space and I'll bring you all the latest next month. And enjoy the rest of January! Blue Monday can do one!
While we're on the subject of the environment, there's a fascinating blog on here from Goodreads author Manda Scott. As well as being a brilliant wordsmith, Manda is a shamanic practitioner who trained as a veterinary surgeon, so she combines spiritual practice with a sound knowledge of neuro-biology and neuro-plasticity. 'Accidental Gods' is a new initiative she's launching in response to the climate/extinction emergency. I've listened to her podcasts (four so far in all) and found them very inspiring - unlike some exponents of 'alternative spirituality' she's not at all airy-fairy. If you're interested in a spiritual approach to the current emergency that's also firmly rooted in science, check out the website:
https://accidentalgods.life/about/
Last week I had the pleasure of attending the launch of New Writing South's 'Hear Us Out' project in Brighton (free wine & canapes, what's not to like?) It was fascinating to hear, and in one case see performed, some of the stories they've been collecting from older LGBTQ people. I've now put myself down to take part in one of their writing workshops, which I'm looking forward to (and you can bet I'm gonna make sure they haven't forgotten the 'B' in the acronym amongst all these stories they've collected!) If anyone reading this lives near Brighton, UK, and is interested in getting involved, here's a link with some info:
https://newwritingsouth.com/call-for-...…
Finally, back in October I wrote about the impending launch of an online magazine, Wyrd Sisters, Ink, that I'm working on with fellow Goodreads authors Jane Traies, Charlie Raven and Maggie Redding. It's still happening, we've put together a great combination of articles, but we've run into some difficulties on the technical front and may have to modify the format somewhat. So watch this space and I'll bring you all the latest next month. And enjoy the rest of January! Blue Monday can do one!
December 11, 2019
Something for the Christmas List?
Merry Christmas, dear friends! Here in the Northern Hemisphere we're fast approaching the Winter Solstice - the days are short and cold, the nights are long, and it's the perfect time of year to curl up with a book. (For all you Antipodeans, of course, it's the Summer Solstice that's approaching - but maybe you're looking for some light summer reading?) Either way, books make the perfect Christmas present, and a couple of mine have just been reduced in price on Amazon.
If you're buying for a Jane Austen fan, how about Before Elizabeth: The Story of Anne de Bourgh? I've just reduced the price on Amazon, and it's an ideal holiday read. The idea of writing about Elizabeth and Darcy from Anne de Bourgh's point of view first came to me decades ago - in 1980, if you can believe that, when the BBC serialised a dramatization of Pride and Prejudice starring Elizabeth Garvie and David Rintoul - a really good interpretation actually, though it's been completely overshadowed by the 1995 'wet shirt' adaptation.
Lady Catherine's 'sickly, cross' daughter Anne, who's given not one word of dialogue in the novel, is played in this version by Moir Leslie. Yes, she remains silent in each of the few scenes in which she features, but when Elizabeth and Maria Lucas come to Rosings to bid farewell to Lady Catherine after their eventful stay with the Collinses, she suddenly reaches out and grabs Lizzy's hand with a look that says, as plain as day, 'I do so wish we could have been friends - I wanted to talk to you more, but I'm painfully shy.'
That piece of silent acting really struck me, and I began to wonder: what did Anne de Bourgh actually think about her supposed fiancé's courtship of 'the Bennet Girl'? What was her back story? What was her childhood like, and what happened to her after Elizabeth and Darcy married? Did she ever manage to escape her overbearing mother?
These and other questions are answered, dear reader, in this fictional diary in which Anne reminisces about her childhood and teenage years, takes stock of her present predicament and contemplates her options for the future. You'll meet some familiar characters, seen here from a very different, and hopefully interesting perspective …
If Sherlock Holmes is a more suitable fit, My Dearest Holmes has also been reduced in price and Amazon.co.uk are running a very tempting offer to pair it with A Case of Domestic Pilfering, Charlie Raven's hilarious companion piece in which Holmes and Watson find themselves repeatedly wrong-footed by a pair of well-meaning but reckless young admirers. A bargain not to be missed, if I do say so myself!
Anyway, here's wishing all my lovely Goodreads friends, fellow authors and followers a wonderful Festive Season, and may 2020 bring you health, wealth and happiness - and of course, good reading! xx
If you're buying for a Jane Austen fan, how about Before Elizabeth: The Story of Anne de Bourgh? I've just reduced the price on Amazon, and it's an ideal holiday read. The idea of writing about Elizabeth and Darcy from Anne de Bourgh's point of view first came to me decades ago - in 1980, if you can believe that, when the BBC serialised a dramatization of Pride and Prejudice starring Elizabeth Garvie and David Rintoul - a really good interpretation actually, though it's been completely overshadowed by the 1995 'wet shirt' adaptation.
Lady Catherine's 'sickly, cross' daughter Anne, who's given not one word of dialogue in the novel, is played in this version by Moir Leslie. Yes, she remains silent in each of the few scenes in which she features, but when Elizabeth and Maria Lucas come to Rosings to bid farewell to Lady Catherine after their eventful stay with the Collinses, she suddenly reaches out and grabs Lizzy's hand with a look that says, as plain as day, 'I do so wish we could have been friends - I wanted to talk to you more, but I'm painfully shy.'
That piece of silent acting really struck me, and I began to wonder: what did Anne de Bourgh actually think about her supposed fiancé's courtship of 'the Bennet Girl'? What was her back story? What was her childhood like, and what happened to her after Elizabeth and Darcy married? Did she ever manage to escape her overbearing mother?
These and other questions are answered, dear reader, in this fictional diary in which Anne reminisces about her childhood and teenage years, takes stock of her present predicament and contemplates her options for the future. You'll meet some familiar characters, seen here from a very different, and hopefully interesting perspective …
If Sherlock Holmes is a more suitable fit, My Dearest Holmes has also been reduced in price and Amazon.co.uk are running a very tempting offer to pair it with A Case of Domestic Pilfering, Charlie Raven's hilarious companion piece in which Holmes and Watson find themselves repeatedly wrong-footed by a pair of well-meaning but reckless young admirers. A bargain not to be missed, if I do say so myself!
Anyway, here's wishing all my lovely Goodreads friends, fellow authors and followers a wonderful Festive Season, and may 2020 bring you health, wealth and happiness - and of course, good reading! xx
November 10, 2019
Still a woman of no importance?
I've finally finished reading Matthew Sturgis' Oscar: A Biography - no mean feat for someone who 'doesn't do' long books, fiction or otherwise (always excepting Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, which I've read three times). It's actually a very readable biography, with lots of fascinating detail and delicious anecdotes, meticulously researched and very balanced in its assessment of Oscar's personality. As with Aubrey Beardsley: A Biography, I feel that Sturgis has really managed to get under the skin of his subject and present him as a living, breathing human being; due recognition is given to his great qualities (kindheartedness, generosity, intelligence and openness) and also to his flaws (vanity, self-aggrandisement, hedonism and addictive tendencies). Unlike many other biographers, Sturgis doesn't skip over Oscar's early life and the influence of Irish culture and Irish politics instilled into him by his ardent, poetic mother 'Speranza' (aka Lady Jane Wilde); nor does it seek to condense his two long years in prison and three subsequent years of exile on the Continent into an epilogue following the climax of his well-known trial and conviction for (homo)sexual offences.
BUT – and it's a big but – I can't forgive him for his treatment (or rather lack of treatment) of Oscar's long-suffering wife, Constance. While friends and lovers (most notably, of course Bosie Douglas) are fleshed out and presented to us with all their fads and foibles, achievements and shortcomings, Constance simply – isn't there. I mean, she IS there of course, you can't write a biography of Oscar without even mentioning his wife and children, but there's so little said about her as a person in her own right that she comes across as a one-dimensional, devoted- but-dim domestic appendage to her glamorous, complex husband.
I know from my research for The Coward Does it with a Kiss that Constance was an intelligent, articulate, independently minded woman who combined motherhood with political activity, journalism, writing, spiritual exploration and a passion for women's rights. She was a member of the Women's Liberal Federation and often spoke at conferences; she was on the Women's Committee of the International Arbitration and Peace Association; she was an active supporter of Lady Margaret Sandhurst's campaign to become the first female County Councillor; she wrote articles on 'Rational Dress' for The Woman's World under her husband's editorship and for the Rational Dress Society's 'Gazette', of which she herself was editor; and she wrote several charming children's stories for publication in anthologies, as well as re-working traditional folk tales for her book There was once. Grandma's stories: Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, Cinderella, The three bears, Children in the wood – published, tellingly, under the name 'Mrs Oscar Wilde'.
But Sturgis passes over these achievements with barely a mention except to patronise. For example, stating that Oscar returned from his honeymoon determined "to set an example of the pervading influence of Art on Matrimony" he adds that “Constance was prepared to enter into this vision, certainly if it meant wearing nice frocks.” WEARING NICE FROCKS? It doesn't get much more belittling than that! All of Constance's tireless campaigning for comfortable and practical clothing that would enable women to go about their daily lives unhampered by whalebone corsets, bustles, trailing petticoats and multiple layers of skirt dismissed as a desire to 'wear nice frocks'!
With long weeks and months spent in sole charge of her household and children while Oscar was off living the high life with Bosie, Constance had to be tough. When Sturgis reports that she "left Worthing on 12th September to prepare the boys for school", he seems completely unaware that she was doing something unusual in taking upon herself the task traditionally the preserve of a father. She not only chose and inspected, but also accompanied her sons Cyril and Vyvyan to their respective boarding schools with their father not even there to give them a hug goodbye. Her sole management of their education was remarked upon at the time – but Sturgis doesn't appear to give it a second thought.
When it comes to the question of her husband's sexuality, Sturgis is too ready to believe Otho Lloyd Holland's insistence that his sister had been “entirely ignorant about Oscar's homosexual relations”. Despite admitting that “there are possible hints of anxiety on the subject” he concludes that “such doubts as she had do not seem to have resolved themselves into any real acknowledgement of the situation.” And yet Franny Moyle, in her biography Constance: The Tragic and Scandalous Life of Mrs. Oscar Wilde, quotes several instances from Constance's letters to her friend and mentor Lady Mount-Temple where she mentions the subject, admittedly in guarded language: “When I see you I will tell you, but it is too 'intime' to write ... it is best to know the truth ... I must pray for my boys, and when they are older, teach them to pray and struggle.” “Oscar is back in town, but not with me ... all my old misery over again, and another fiasco”. “I am unhappy because Oscar is not at all well, and had to fly off to yesterday morning to Calais to meet a friend there” - (an odd thing to do, surely if 'not at all well' referred to a physical illness? Constance repeatedly uses this euphemism in reference to her husband's homosexuality).
I'm also disturbed by the fact that Sturgis makes little mention of Constance and Oscar's two sons, Cyril and Vyvyan. In his epilogue he completely passes over their respective fates - the former killed during WWI, the latter surviving to write a first-hand account of his life as the Son of Oscar Wilde. With the exception of one brief footnote, he also completely ignores the existence of Vyvyan's son Merlin Holland, who is still living and is a noted biographer of his grandfather. Is there some sort of rift going on between Sturgis and Wilde's descendants? Of course the subject of the biography is Oscar himself, not his family, but even so, these omissions seem to me to be quite glaring.
Well having got my rant over, I must admit that Sturgis' book is still a fascinating read – give Oscar: A Biography a go yourselves, and see what you think!
BUT – and it's a big but – I can't forgive him for his treatment (or rather lack of treatment) of Oscar's long-suffering wife, Constance. While friends and lovers (most notably, of course Bosie Douglas) are fleshed out and presented to us with all their fads and foibles, achievements and shortcomings, Constance simply – isn't there. I mean, she IS there of course, you can't write a biography of Oscar without even mentioning his wife and children, but there's so little said about her as a person in her own right that she comes across as a one-dimensional, devoted- but-dim domestic appendage to her glamorous, complex husband.
I know from my research for The Coward Does it with a Kiss that Constance was an intelligent, articulate, independently minded woman who combined motherhood with political activity, journalism, writing, spiritual exploration and a passion for women's rights. She was a member of the Women's Liberal Federation and often spoke at conferences; she was on the Women's Committee of the International Arbitration and Peace Association; she was an active supporter of Lady Margaret Sandhurst's campaign to become the first female County Councillor; she wrote articles on 'Rational Dress' for The Woman's World under her husband's editorship and for the Rational Dress Society's 'Gazette', of which she herself was editor; and she wrote several charming children's stories for publication in anthologies, as well as re-working traditional folk tales for her book There was once. Grandma's stories: Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, Cinderella, The three bears, Children in the wood – published, tellingly, under the name 'Mrs Oscar Wilde'.
But Sturgis passes over these achievements with barely a mention except to patronise. For example, stating that Oscar returned from his honeymoon determined "to set an example of the pervading influence of Art on Matrimony" he adds that “Constance was prepared to enter into this vision, certainly if it meant wearing nice frocks.” WEARING NICE FROCKS? It doesn't get much more belittling than that! All of Constance's tireless campaigning for comfortable and practical clothing that would enable women to go about their daily lives unhampered by whalebone corsets, bustles, trailing petticoats and multiple layers of skirt dismissed as a desire to 'wear nice frocks'!
With long weeks and months spent in sole charge of her household and children while Oscar was off living the high life with Bosie, Constance had to be tough. When Sturgis reports that she "left Worthing on 12th September to prepare the boys for school", he seems completely unaware that she was doing something unusual in taking upon herself the task traditionally the preserve of a father. She not only chose and inspected, but also accompanied her sons Cyril and Vyvyan to their respective boarding schools with their father not even there to give them a hug goodbye. Her sole management of their education was remarked upon at the time – but Sturgis doesn't appear to give it a second thought.
When it comes to the question of her husband's sexuality, Sturgis is too ready to believe Otho Lloyd Holland's insistence that his sister had been “entirely ignorant about Oscar's homosexual relations”. Despite admitting that “there are possible hints of anxiety on the subject” he concludes that “such doubts as she had do not seem to have resolved themselves into any real acknowledgement of the situation.” And yet Franny Moyle, in her biography Constance: The Tragic and Scandalous Life of Mrs. Oscar Wilde, quotes several instances from Constance's letters to her friend and mentor Lady Mount-Temple where she mentions the subject, admittedly in guarded language: “When I see you I will tell you, but it is too 'intime' to write ... it is best to know the truth ... I must pray for my boys, and when they are older, teach them to pray and struggle.” “Oscar is back in town, but not with me ... all my old misery over again, and another fiasco”. “I am unhappy because Oscar is not at all well, and had to fly off to yesterday morning to Calais to meet a friend there” - (an odd thing to do, surely if 'not at all well' referred to a physical illness? Constance repeatedly uses this euphemism in reference to her husband's homosexuality).
I'm also disturbed by the fact that Sturgis makes little mention of Constance and Oscar's two sons, Cyril and Vyvyan. In his epilogue he completely passes over their respective fates - the former killed during WWI, the latter surviving to write a first-hand account of his life as the Son of Oscar Wilde. With the exception of one brief footnote, he also completely ignores the existence of Vyvyan's son Merlin Holland, who is still living and is a noted biographer of his grandfather. Is there some sort of rift going on between Sturgis and Wilde's descendants? Of course the subject of the biography is Oscar himself, not his family, but even so, these omissions seem to me to be quite glaring.
Well having got my rant over, I must admit that Sturgis' book is still a fascinating read – give Oscar: A Biography a go yourselves, and see what you think!
October 13, 2019
You SHALL go to the ball ...
"We're the Cinderellas of the mainstream publishing industry, the ones who never get to go to the ball!" So said Sylvia Daly at an informal meeting of LGBTQ female authors recently. "And it's not because we're not good!" I added, just in case there should be in any doubt on that point; "it's because publishing today is all about marketability rather than talent."
I know this to be true because it was so different back in the day, when as a total unknown I had a breeze getting my debut novel, My Dearest Holmes, published, marketed and advertised by the Gay Men's Press. It made tabloid headlines and generated radio interviews, book signings and a lot of outrage from the mainstream media and the Conan Doyle Estate, all without me having to lift a finger. It was so friggin' EASY to get published back in the 1980s, as long as your writing was up to scratch. I was given an advance for my second novel, The Coward Does it with a Kiss, without question even though on publication it failed to generate the same level of interest (well let's face it, a gay male readership weren't going to be fascinated by the reminiscences of Oscar Wilde's wife – many of them didn't even want to be reminded that he had one). Yes, I did get a dance or two at the ball back then - but twenty-odd years later it was a very different story. It took me a while to cotton on, what with having been immersed in the responsibilities of single motherhood for so long, but it soon became apparent that it didn't actually matter any more whether your writing was good – if neither your name, your connections nor the content of your manuscript (80k+ words, bursting at the seams with sex) guaranteed sales in advance, it wasn't going to get published. I think it was Fifty Shades of Grey that finally rammed the message home ....
Fortunately, an alternative method of getting into print was emerging – self-publishing. Fairly easy to do, too, if you owned the rights to your work and were prepared to do your own editing (or rope in the services of a discerning friend). That's how MDH got back into circulation, and in the wake of the Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes films and the BBC's 'Sherlock' series it did enjoy a second bout of success. The problem, however, was marketing and publicity – if you're a self-published author you have to do your own, and for a technophobe with no financial nous whatsoever that's easier said than done. Emily Dickinson wouldn't have stood a chance. I do what I can, of course – I've managed to get copies of my stuff into a couple of independent bookshops, and secured some guest blogs and nice reviews (thank you Narrelle M. Harris, Dan Andriacco, Richard Gough-Buijs and everyone else who's been kind enough to put in a favourable word!) - but a businesswoman I am not, and it's good marketing that sells books nowadays.
The 'Cinderellas' gathered over coffee and biscuits that day have enjoyed various levels of success. Like myself, Maggie Redding was initially published conventionally (see The Life And Times Of Daffodil Mulligan, Brilliance Books, 1984), but has subsequently had to self-publish; Charlie Raven's first novel A Case of Domestic Pilfering would have appeared alongside MDH had the mainstream reaction not been so opposed to any suggestion of a romantic attachment between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson – as it was, it had to wait thirty years to see the light of day and her second novel The Compact was brought out under out own imprint (www.theravensbunker.com). Jane Traies has had the best success of all of us so far, with her ground-breaking doctoral research into the lives of older lesbians published in user-friendly form as Now You See Me: Lesbian Life Stories; but as she points out, her fame is limited to the LGBTQ community, and the three novels published by Onlywomen Press back in the 1990s when she was one half of the Jay Taverner partnership - Rebellion, Hearts and Minds and Something Wicked- have fallen into obscurity.
So, what to do? How to get to the ball? Well, we've decided to magic up our own coach and horses in the form of WYRD SISTERS, INK - a brand new e-zine featuring the writing of 'extraordinary women'. It'll be packed with articles, poetry, excerpts and interviews and it'll be available for free online – watch this space for news, announcements and invitations to the ball, all coming your way soon!
I know this to be true because it was so different back in the day, when as a total unknown I had a breeze getting my debut novel, My Dearest Holmes, published, marketed and advertised by the Gay Men's Press. It made tabloid headlines and generated radio interviews, book signings and a lot of outrage from the mainstream media and the Conan Doyle Estate, all without me having to lift a finger. It was so friggin' EASY to get published back in the 1980s, as long as your writing was up to scratch. I was given an advance for my second novel, The Coward Does it with a Kiss, without question even though on publication it failed to generate the same level of interest (well let's face it, a gay male readership weren't going to be fascinated by the reminiscences of Oscar Wilde's wife – many of them didn't even want to be reminded that he had one). Yes, I did get a dance or two at the ball back then - but twenty-odd years later it was a very different story. It took me a while to cotton on, what with having been immersed in the responsibilities of single motherhood for so long, but it soon became apparent that it didn't actually matter any more whether your writing was good – if neither your name, your connections nor the content of your manuscript (80k+ words, bursting at the seams with sex) guaranteed sales in advance, it wasn't going to get published. I think it was Fifty Shades of Grey that finally rammed the message home ....
Fortunately, an alternative method of getting into print was emerging – self-publishing. Fairly easy to do, too, if you owned the rights to your work and were prepared to do your own editing (or rope in the services of a discerning friend). That's how MDH got back into circulation, and in the wake of the Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes films and the BBC's 'Sherlock' series it did enjoy a second bout of success. The problem, however, was marketing and publicity – if you're a self-published author you have to do your own, and for a technophobe with no financial nous whatsoever that's easier said than done. Emily Dickinson wouldn't have stood a chance. I do what I can, of course – I've managed to get copies of my stuff into a couple of independent bookshops, and secured some guest blogs and nice reviews (thank you Narrelle M. Harris, Dan Andriacco, Richard Gough-Buijs and everyone else who's been kind enough to put in a favourable word!) - but a businesswoman I am not, and it's good marketing that sells books nowadays.
The 'Cinderellas' gathered over coffee and biscuits that day have enjoyed various levels of success. Like myself, Maggie Redding was initially published conventionally (see The Life And Times Of Daffodil Mulligan, Brilliance Books, 1984), but has subsequently had to self-publish; Charlie Raven's first novel A Case of Domestic Pilfering would have appeared alongside MDH had the mainstream reaction not been so opposed to any suggestion of a romantic attachment between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson – as it was, it had to wait thirty years to see the light of day and her second novel The Compact was brought out under out own imprint (www.theravensbunker.com). Jane Traies has had the best success of all of us so far, with her ground-breaking doctoral research into the lives of older lesbians published in user-friendly form as Now You See Me: Lesbian Life Stories; but as she points out, her fame is limited to the LGBTQ community, and the three novels published by Onlywomen Press back in the 1990s when she was one half of the Jay Taverner partnership - Rebellion, Hearts and Minds and Something Wicked- have fallen into obscurity.
So, what to do? How to get to the ball? Well, we've decided to magic up our own coach and horses in the form of WYRD SISTERS, INK - a brand new e-zine featuring the writing of 'extraordinary women'. It'll be packed with articles, poetry, excerpts and interviews and it'll be available for free online – watch this space for news, announcements and invitations to the ball, all coming your way soon!
