S. Alexander O'Keefe's Blog, page 2

Regret

Regret is a powerful emotion. An honest man or woman, with a noble heart, feels its lash whenever advantage is unfairly taken, or offense unjustly given. A scoundrel, in contrast, lies, cheats and steals without moral discomfort. His only regret is getting caught.

The foregoing dichotomy plays out in both “Helius Legacy” and “The Return of Sir Percival.” In the former, John Caine holds himself accountable for the death of a fellow legionnaire, and in the latter, Sir Percival fears his belated return to Albion may have contributed to the kingdom’s downfall. In contrast, Carter T. Mason, the industry titan seeking John Caine’s demise in “Helius Legacy”, and Morgana, the lead antagonist in “Sir Percival”, regret only their failed misdeeds.

Alas, I fear villains often have an advantage over those who operate within the confines of a moral code, in the rough-and-tumble game of life. To quote my Dad, “A scoundrel’s perspective is very simple, “hooray for me, the hell with everyone else.” That being said, I would strongly counsel against the path of the wickedness, to use an old word. That bus is always too full, and I suspect its last stop will be rather unpleasant.

By the way, whenever I think of “regret” personified, it’s the character Raskolnikov, in “Crime and Punishment.” I would be curious to hear your choice.

 

I DO HEREBY SWEAR…

Oaths still play a role in modern day life. Every time I file a witness declaration in court, the declarant states: “I hereby declare and state that the foregoing is true and correct under the penalty of perjury.” Most people give a similar oath when they sign a personal financial statement or tax return. Other well-known oaths are the pledge of allegiance and the marital vow.

Some of the more well-known oaths that served as the foundation of medieval society are less well known, such as the oaths of “loyalty”, “fealty”, and “homage”. The latter pledges were exchanged between vassals and lords at various levels of feudal society, binding the vassal to support his lord, and the lord to protect his vassal. A host of other oaths were often given by soldiers before they embarked upon a military campaign, and post-conflict settlements were generally solemnized by a series of oaths made upon religious icons.

Knights made a series of chivalric oaths during their accolade ceremony, and received the Benedictione Novi Militis from the local bishop for good measure. Not surprisingly, these oaths, like those we continue to swear today, failed to restrain the barbarous. The not so-right and honorable Sir Thomas Malory, the author of the venerable Arthurian tale, “Le Mort D’Arthur”, is a good example. Sir Thomas was reputed to be a robber, rapist and turncoat (in the War of the Roses), and possibly a murderer as well. Reputable sources indicate he may have written part of his famous work in prison.

Well, you can like a book without liking the author

REVENGE

The desire for revenge against transgressors is an integral part of the human condition. Some deny they are subject to this urge (prevarication), some contend they have banished it from their lofty thoughts (not likely), others manage the urge (e.g. John Quincy Adams – keeping a list of those who “thwarted his progress in life”), and still others embrace the demon with an unholy passion (Josef Stalin). Historical examples of revenge are so ubiquitous, varied and terrible, recounting even an illustrative sample would take pages.

Revenge is not only a prevalent theme in literature, but a popular one. The penultimate tale of revenge, “The Count of Monte Cristo”, by Alexandre Dumas (one of my favorite books), is not only a classic, it remains incredibly popular, spawning a new film nearly every decade.

When I created the character “Morgana” in “The Return of Sir Percival”, my objective was bring to life a personality consumed with the desire for revenge, and empowered with the intellectual resources and amorality necessary to exploit this internal demon to the fullest. Throughout the novel, this antagonist designs and pursues her retributive schemes with care and patience, manipulating, exploiting and charming friends and foes alike to achieve her ends, without an iota of regret.

At the risk of raising and eyebrow or two, I must say that I do admire Morgana’s “effectiveness”. Since she is not burdened with the nuances “right” and “wrong”, the world devolves into a simple equation: Objectives versus obstacles. The former must be pursued, the latter eliminated. Many who live within this moral null-set are gratuitously cruel (Stalin), or hypocritical (Henry VIII), where Morgana is not, and a careful reader may even be able to discern vestiges of decency within this formidable woman.

I suspect if you were wrongly imprisoned in a foreign land, you might consider yourself lucky if someone like Morgana was tasked with obtaining your freedom for a very simple reason: She would secure your release, no matter how many bodies had to be buried in the pursuit of this goal.

Let me know what you think of this character if you have a minute.

Guinevere’s Damoclean Burdens

Anyone who became the King of England during the “middle ages” was consigned to bear a great, and often unbearable burden. It was a dangerous, stressful and complicated job. The king had to protect the realm from invasions, which were all too frequent; identify and frequently battle would-be usurpers (including obstreperous children like Richard the Lionhearted); and thwart or manage a thousand palace intrigues. Some English monarchs lost their heads (Charles I); others lost their minds (George III). I suspect almost all would have sympathized with Napoleon’s rueful comment, “I am only emperor until my next battle.”

The first woman to be Queen of England, as in the sole monarch, was arguably Mary I (I say “arguably” based upon the assumption that Matilda, the wife of William the Conqueror would quarrel with this designation). However, Elizabeth I, Mary’s half-sister, the second female monarch to sit on throne, was, in my humble estimation, one of the most, if not the most skillful and successful English monarch.

During her long reign, she was forced to play a terribly complicated life-and-death chess game. Her opponents were parliament, a flock of power-hungry nobles, two churches (protestant and catholic), Spain, France, and long series of would-be husbands (who were seeking the FIRST place at the royal table). Yes, like any monarch who reigned during that period, Elizabeth authorized or allowed many acts we would consider barbarous today, but when you consider the entire balance sheet, particularly from a comparative perspective, she was truly a “great” queen.

When I brought to life “my” Guinevere in “The Return of Sir Percival”, in some measure I modeled her after Elizabeth I. Like Elizabeth I, Guinevere is smart, practical, strong and wise. At the same time, she is also a witty and caring woman, who desires to live life to the fullest. In one crucial chapter, she displays a characteristic that I believe is obligatory for any great ruler, and one that Plato and his mentor, Socrates, would surely recognize: She is wise enough to realize what she does not know, and willing to take the advice of others on those matters, even when she might make a different choice.

Although I do enjoy the time I spend with this wonderful queen, I do not envy Guinevere’s position. Carrying the fate of a kingdom and its people on your shoulders, in a time of relentless barbarian invasions, is a burden that even Damocles would be reluctant to bear. When the threat posed by Morgana’s deadly intrigues is added to this anvil of troubles, I suspect even Elizabeth I would be inclined to take a pass.

In almost all the reviews that I have read, readers have indicated that they enjoyed this character. Let me know your thoughts on the matter if you have a minute.

What If the Romans Had Never Invaded Britain?

“You’re a man haunted by those two most terrible words: What if?” (Quote from the movie “The Time Machine”, 2002). I suspect every one ruminates over this inquiry at one time or another (generally after we have thoroughly and unnecessarily botched something up). When this inquiry is posed as to one or more historical events, or choices, the resulting questions that arise, along with the conflicting perspectives, are often fascinating.

If were a British historian, I would be inclined to pose the following “what if” inquiry: What if the Roman empire had not conquered Britain? More specifically, did this historical event accelerate or impair the civilizational progress of the people living there?

After reading Paul Johnson’s “History of the English People”, I had the distinct impression that this author firmly believed the “fall” of Rome relieved Albion’s indigenous people from the “dead hand” of an intellectually repressive and backward force. I am not sure the Romanized people who lived there in the late fifth century would have agreed (see attached painting), whilst they were being ravaged by Saxon, Jute and Angle invaders (I have read and very much enjoy this historian’s books). However, Mr. Johnson may be correct: By the fifth century, the empire was doing a lot of things wrong.

My bias in favor of the conclusion that the Roman invasion and occupation of Britain was a positive thing from a civilizational perspective is based upon the following admittedly simplistic observations. From the third through and fifth century, vast amounts of people were fighting for the right to live within the empire. If this existence were so terrible, presumably the opposite would have been true. Second (and this is an American bias) infrastructure is a central attribute of civilization. The Roman road system (with its mile markers and regular rest stops (mansio)), and the Roman sewer and water systems were astounding improvements over the status quo that existed when they arrived. Third, if your territory was within the empire, you had a measure of protection from barbarian invasions, and you had the opportunity to learn from and adopt the military methods of your conquerors (many of Rome’s generals in the last years of the empire were Goths). I suspect the “real” Arthur was in fact a Briton who did exactly this, and then used these skills to defeat the Saxons. Fourth, the Romans kept records, and understood the critical need for education (at least for some). This characteristic allowed many indigenous people who would otherwise have had no opportunity to acquire an education, to do so.

When I wrote “The Return of Sir Percival”, I made a point of investing Sir Percival with (among others) two critical attributes: He was well read, and his father and grandfather made sure that he was schooled in the Roman art of war. These skills play a critical role in the story and disclose my bias on the above “what if”. Yes, I think the Roman invasion of Britain was, in the “long run”, a good thing (my apologies to the Atrebates, Iceni, Brigantes etc.).

Guinevere’s Burden

In one of the more recent histories on the decline and fall of Rome, the author made both a critical and ominous point. One hundred and fifty years before the date designated as the “fall” of Rome, 476 A.D., the Romans had no inkling the end was coming. To the contrary, according to the author, they were not even looking in the right geographic direction, insofar as the coming threat was concerned. Rome’s primary concern in the fourth century was the threat posed by the Persian empire, not the disparate gothic tribes to the north (never mind the more distant Huns) that ultimately overran the western empire. Today, one hundred and fifty years is the temporal span between your life and your grandfather’s – think about that.

Like the Romans, we Americans rarely ponder the existential threats to our existence, although they are certainly there. Whether we are looking in the “wrong” direction when we ponder this universe of threats is a more complicated and contentious question. Like the Romans, most Americans assume this nation will surely overcome any external threat, and therefore our focus should be on the more relevant (read irrelevant) matters that dominate the news. My thoughts on the matter are not so sanguine. History teaches otherwise.

Notwithstanding my geopolitical paranoia, I will frankly admit that one of the most challenging and fascinating aspects of writing “The Return of Sir Percival” is the existential context within which the story takes place. As I have mentioned in prior posts, the real Arthur was a Celtic Briton fighting for the survival of his people against invading forces – Saxons, Jutes and Angles. The alternatives he faced were to resist, or accept defeat, subjugation and death – harsh choices. According to the historian, Nennius and others, Arthur chose to fight, and for a time prevailed.

In Book I of the “The Return of Sir Percival,” and even more so in Book II, Queen Guinevere faces the same enemies as her departed husband. My task, as a writer, is to endeavor to understand and describe the Queen’s mindset, and that of Percival, Capussa and Merlin, given the dangers they face. During every waking hour they must be prepared to confront an enemy who may appear on any shore or navigable river, in force, at any time of day or night, during the invasion “season.”

Although I have read hundreds of history books that provide a measure of insight into this mental universe, and I have my own vision of this ongoing crucible, my research continues. Alas, I wish Winston Churchill were available for a quick talk on the matter. If you have any thoughts on this topic, I’d like to hear from you.

Characters

Every character in a novel, unless he or she is based upon a historical figure, is drawn from the author’s imagination. The character looks, talks and acts in accordance with the writer’s mental perceptions, and lives and dies in accordance with the writer’s grand, or not so grand plan. As an avid reader, I can still recall many of the fascinating and unique characters in my favorite books, even though I read them many years ago: Golem and Bilbo Baggins (“The Hobbit”, by J.R.R. Tolkien), Edmund Dantes (“The Count of Monte Cristo”, by Alexander Dumas), Peter Blood (“Captain Blood”, by Rafael Sabatini), and Sydney Carton (“A Tale of Two Cities”, by Charles Dickens).

I think the most important aspect of a character development is a recognition of that which makes each of us unique – our individuality. During the continuum of a single day, a man or woman will conjure into existence, experience, endure, ponder and sometimes act upon a confluence of ideas, desires, feelings and motivations, as varied as they are distinctive. Creating a character who carries within, and displays this spectrum of diversity, is difficult, but I think it’s what makes a character interesting, and believable.

The characters I created in my first two novels were drawn from my imagination, historical references, and from my relationships with the people who I have met on the road of life, or observed from afar. What is fascinating and rewarding is how and why certain characters resonate with different people. Some readers were drawn to Guinevere, others to Percival, and still others to Capussa, the Numidian. (See e.g., “Percival is appropriately noble and easy to root for against the utterly evil Morgana, but the real star here is the knight’s fiery friend, the warrior Capussa, whose sharp sense of humor should make him a favorite of readers.”, Kirkus Reviews). If there is a particular character who you enjoyed please send me a comment. I would love to know who and why.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.” W. Shakespeare (“Henry IV”)

In Book I of the “Return of Sir Percival,” flashbacks grant the reader a sense of the heavy burdens borne by Arthur Pendragon, and his councilor, Merlin the Wise, during the last years before the kingdom’s fall. In Book II of this series, Guinevere will feel this same weight, as she struggles to protect the reborn kingdom, and it is often an oppressive one.

The life of a ruler is not one I would choose, and I suspect many of those who covet and acquire “imperium” have belatedly come to understand the admonition “be careful what you ask for, you might get it.”

The powerful Godwinson family coveted the crown worn by the weak, but allegedly saintly English king, Edward the “Confessor”, for a many a decade. When Edward finally passed away, or was quietly killed, the Godwinson’s finally achieved this end. Harold, the family’s eldest son, became king on January 6, 1066.

Alas, the crown’s stay upon Harold’s head was both “uneasy” and short. Nine months later Harold was forced to kill his brother, Tostig, who sought to unseat him, with the help of the King of Norway. Less than three weeks after this fratricide, Harold met his own demise at the Battle of Hastings, facing the Norman invader, William the “Conqueror.” “Be careful what….”

Unlike Harold, the historical Arthur (according to Nennius and others) was more of a war leader than a king, but like King Harold, he spent his much of his time fighting invaders – in Arthur’s case, the Saxons. However, Arthur, unlike poor Harold, was victorious.

Now, Guinevere, Arthur’s Queen will face her time of trial in this ongoing existential struggle, in Book II of the “Return of Sir Percival” saga.

I wish her well.

“THE WAR OF ALL AGAINST ALL” (Thomas Hobbes)

According to the seventeenth century philosopher Thomas Hobbes, the natural human condition is “a war of all against all.” Although Hobbes’ perspective may be somewhat bleak, I suspect we can all agree on the human capacity to disagree, and often, to be disagreeable. History, alas, is replete with examples of the bloody wages of this contumaciousness. That being said, novels would be rather dull without these obstreperous proclivities, and I thoroughly enjoyed exploiting them in “The Return of Sir Percival: Book I – Guinevere’s Prayer.”

The central conflict in the novel is between the forces of Guinevere, the Queen of the Britons, and those of Morgana, and her Norse and Saxons allies. However, a plethora of conflicts arise within each faction. Young Cadwyn, Guinevere’s handmaiden, is often squabbling with the aging Sister Aranwen, Guinevere’s spiritual adviser, over one matter or another. Guinevere has quite an argument with Sir Percival and his Numidian friend, Capussa, over strategy, and the Queen was less than pleased with Merlin’s rather clever charade.

Hobbes “war of all against all” is on full display within Morgana’s camp. This brilliant and utterly ruthless antagonist manipulates her allies and diabolically pits them against the other in her quest for primacy, while at the same time plotting the demise of Guinevere’s forces. Not to be out done, Morgana’s co-belligerents scheme against her, and each other, in their pursuit of power and wealth.

Alas, how would we survive without human contentiousness, duplicity, greed, etc., within the realm of fiction.

If there’s a particular book or movie that you think illustrates Hobbes “war of all against all” perspective, let me know.

VETERANS’ DAY / ARMISTICE DAY

Today is “Veteran’s Day” in the United States. In Great Britain, it is referred to as “Armistice Day” or “Remembrance Day” (and “Poppy Day”). In France, the day is “L’armistice de la Première Guerre Mondiale.” The date originally commemorated is the armistice ending hostilities in World War I that was concluded on November 11, 1918. In the United States, our remembrance on this day was later broadened to acknowledge the immeasurable debt of thanks we owe to all of our veterans (my Dad was a waist gunner on a B-17).

As an obsessive military history buff, I have read several histories on the “Great War” (I felt Liddell Hart’s was particularly good). It was truly a cataclysmic horror. In the Battle of the Somme alone, combined casualties exceeded 800,000 (both Allied and German).

When I read about the conditions the soldiers endured in the trenches, I questioned how any of them could have retained their sanity. Thankfully, most did, including C.S. Lewis (British Army), J.R.R Tolkien (British Army), and Ivan D. Margary (British Army). Margary is the British soldier whose exceptional Roman road maps guided my characters in the “The Return of Sir Percival,” in their travels throughout Albion

So today, I shall say a fervent prayer of thanks for all of America’s veterans, and a second prayer for the soldiers who endured the battlefields of World War I.

God bless.