Sarah M. Glover's Blog, page 2

Sherlock, friendship and sex

You can't swing a cat these days (turn of phrase, just a turn of phrase, folks) without smacking into another rendition of the great detective's life.  Movies, the BBC, and now CBS (although the BBC is far superior to everything out there, sorry, but it's true) have all tried their hands at Sherlock Holmes.  Even before this latest round, 221B's most famous resident has been portrayed on the page and on screen more than any other fictional character. 

Regardless of the incarnation, I am a ardent fan -- a Sherlockian, if you will.  The brain of the man, his deductive skills, his robot like chill and suave exterior, are all thrilling to read or watch.  But it's the heart of the enigmatic sleuth that draws me in.  A heart that even Watson doubted the existence of for much of the stories. 

For those of you not in the know, there exists a huge fanbase in the blogosphere clamoring for more than a bromance between these two men.  A forest of fics have popped up detailing what happens once those 17 steps have been climbed.  Why had this occurred?  Perhaps it's the current upsurge of erotica. There exists, my right hand to God, one publisher who focuses exclusively on sexing up the classics --- Clandestine Classics or some such other title.  Jane Eyre with whips and chains, Emma with a dog collar -- who knows?  The lustier, trashier, edgier, more pornographic the better -- right?

As if without sex, a relationship is somehow not complete. 

I'm confused.  First I think the classics are fine without crotchless panties.  And as far as Sherlock goes, there is a world of intensity to wallow in without condoms and lube.  What isn't compelling about a lifelong, utterly devoted friendship --- one of the greatest in literary history -- the bromance of all bromances if you will?  These men would die for each other, they basically live as a happily married couple with their domestics and quiet contemplations and laughter.  They complete each other as no one else can.  Isn't that more profound than a good shag?  Not that I'm against a good shag, mind you.

Now, I'm a strong supporter of same sex equality in all things -- especially marriage.  And I have read and enjoyed my share of M/M fiction.  But before we even contemplate who tops whom in any of these stories, can we talk about devotion.  I think it's a forgotten word nowadays.  It's quiet and constant; it doesn't throb or thrust or moan loudly.  Devotion transcends time and age and the battles waged just to get through life.  There is a charge to it that can fuel passion if passion is there, yet it can fuel courage and nobility and joy as well.  But most of the time it stays silent by.

This devotion is what affects me most about the Sherlock stories.  Holmes and Watson are each incredibly broken in their own way.  One is an unappreciated and often spurned genius, the other is an emotionally and physically crippled veteran.  The dynamic of those men healing each other -- of coming to need each other -- is staggering.  Do I need to see them hop in the sack --- I'm not against it, but it's not in their nature to do so.  If I were to read a series that had those elements with a different set of men, would I be intrigued -- of course -- but I don't think Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ever envisioned handcuffs lined in mink.  Still I would challenge anymore to watch the end of the last episode of this season's Sherlock and not feel it deep in your gut.

In that way, Arthur Conan Doyle did, I believe, craft a love story.  One in which two halves are made whole.  The making of a great man by the devotion of another.

My dog is also a paradox

My beloved dog, Harry, had surgery today for an imbedded foxtail. For those of you who love a dog --- this is for you.   Here's the link for the link:  http://theoatmeal.com/comics/dog_paradox?ref=nf

Banter College: Romance Education for Men

This has been on my mind lately. Paul Delgardie, the fictional uncle of Lord Peter Wimsey, was quoted as saying that he could never trust his nephew's romantic or sexual education to chance or the ignorance of the uninformed. Well, yes, he was French, but I think he was onto something.  If you haven't read any of the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries --- do so.  Read my response below.


From Busman's Honeymoon

A Most Novel Woman: Laurie R. King

Last week I had the honor of attending a book reading at BookShop West Portal featuring Laurie R. King.  A truly fangirl moment for me as she is my idol in many different ways.  She would probably scowl at this or wave her hand and laugh it off, but it's my blog, I can offer a virtual squeal if I wish. 

First, she is a magical writer -- having crafted several entertaining mystery series, my favorite being the Mary Russell novels.  They feature a woman who is strong, intelligent and not always lovable.  She is also the only living person who can match -- and often trump --- Sherlock Holmes' detective abilities.  She is also his wife, so there.

I fell for Ms. King's writing after reading The Beekeeper's Apprentice  which begins with the sumptuous line of "I was fifteen when I first met Sherlock Holmes, fifteen years old with my nose in a book as I walked the Sussex Downs, and nearly stepped on him."  The rest of the series flew by, and now I am in the middle of her latest, Garment of Shadows .  She does her homework.  She researches.  She can write -- lord, can she write.  Too much of what I've read lately has left me feeling like I've just bit on aluminum foil.  She proves you can have a bestseller and not sacrifice the prose.

Second, she is a role model for writing mothers (well understanding the often mind-numbing tasks required in that career and balancing it with the ability to disappear into fiction) and a role model on how to continue to grow as a woman.  I've often written about the invisibility of turning forty, but as I sat and listened to Ms. King I felt like a student that had fallen into a well-loved class.  She is well traveled and well educated but she is also quite savvy (who knew she was aware of Cumberbitches?)  She is also witty and laugh out loud funny.  The one thing I regret about the evening is that the bunch of us didn't take her out for drinks.  Listening to Ms. King speak is something I doubt I could ever tire of.

A Night to Remember for Grave Refrain and me

Truly a Night to Remember.
It was a fantastic turnout at Book Shop West Portal on the evening of April 5th.  Surreal moment looking out at the audience filled with friends from school, the hood, and St. Aidan's, plus many interested folks wondering why the shop was so packed!  Thanks to all who came to show their love and support.  I believe the shop ran out of chairs!  And special thanks to Neil Sofman, owner of BookShop West Portal -- he is tremendous---a true supporter of writers, especially the starving ones! Greeting folks on their way in.  Most common question, "Are you the model on the cover of the book?"  Answer:  I wish.

Two readings:  the beginning of Chapter One and the Columbarium scene. Tried to leave the curses out in front of the younger kids, but hell that's hard.  Taking questions from the audience.  Sigining books!!
The party afterwards!  Stunning catering by the Jennings.  Oyster bar out back and my lovely girls doing what we do best.  And they dressed in 1930s and 1940s for the night---put Nora to shame.  Thanks to everyone for making the night so magical.  I could not do it without your love and support.

Look at that window! 4/5 Grave Refrain book reading and signing

 
Look at that window!! Grave Refrain book reading is almost here! Brush off your fedora or snazzy dress (if you dare).When: Thursday night, 7 pm
Where: BookShop West Portal, 80 West Portal Avenue, SF
Why: Because you deserve a great night out. It will be a blast.

In Praise of the Independent Bookstore & Book Signing 4/5/12

I read an editorial cartoon a few weeks ago which had a husband and wife sitting on a couch and discussing the evening paper.  The husband looks up and says, "Wow.  Amazon is going to buy buildings and put books in them for people to buy."

With the close of Borders and the potential close of Barnes and Noble, the publishing world continues to flail.  E-books outpace hardcovers, self-publishing is no longer anathema, J.K. Rowling just took it all under her own control and cut out the publisher entirely when it comes to her e-books. 

But what about the bookstore?  There is something magical about being in a neighborhood book shop, entering into a welcoming and lovely space and being surrounded by beautiful books.  The ability to pick any book up, read through sections of your choosing, browse the older works of a favorite author.  The staff of the truly wonderful shops is there to recommend works -- they know the authors, the genres, what is inspirational.  It's a place that is tangible and warm and alive.

Imagine a world where there were no bookstores.  Where everything was ordered online -- or all books became e-books?  I'm not discounting the benefit of e-books, I'm only saying that a bookstore can be a cherished place of any neighborhood. 

Our neighborhood bookstore is BookShop West Portal.  I adore it.  I adore the owner and the staff.  Stop by on Thursday evening, April 5th at 7pm for a tremendous time.  I'll be reading from my novel, Grave Refrain.  Come and have a great time -- I'll save a seat for you.  You'll be helping a neighborhood treasure.  And yes, that is a picture of it.  Don't you want to go in?

Great review for Grave Refrain

Romancing the Book gave Grave Refrain its highest "rose" review!  Some snippets:

"Ms. Glover's debut novel is simply riveting. I had my heartstrings pulled and I tended to not want to let go as it spun its magical web around me...you will just have to read this incredibly well written story. It is probably the most captivating list of characters and storyline that I have had the chance to read in a very long time. It is fresh and full of warmth and romance that draws you in with each word, each description and each feeling that tumbles from the pages. As you keep turning the pages you find yourself laughing and crying. You begin to believe once again in the magic of romance with the fumbling ways of beginning love and you begin to remember the way it was when you first fell in love. I cherish this book and look forward to much more to come from Ms. Glover along with the next ghost adventure.

You will be spellbound…I am sure of it."

To read the complete review:  http://www.romancing-the-book.com/2012/03/review-grave-refrain-by-sarah-m-glover.html

My special thanks to Robin the reviewer!!!

Reflections on Mothers and Daughters

In the name of improving mother-daughter relations, I find myself sitting across the table from my daughter, our hands covered in a viscous Crisco based icing. It has oozed out of the back of the silver-tipped pipping bags and is making its way down our arms. We have signed up for a cake decorating class, and today we are learning to make shag-muffin flowers. Ours look like some disemboweled fluorescent Muppets.

I am intent to have a better relationship with my daughter than my mother had with me. Or I had with my mother. We have thus far navigated the mother daughter relationship somewhat successfully. My daughter, her own force of nature, is a bright and driven, a tomboy who prefers dirt to bathing and obsessively watches the Food Network and Animal Planet. The second child, however, she believes she is second in her parent's affections and brings this up whenever she wants to steer the familial ship in her direction. This fierceness I recognize from my own mother, and I realize it will serve her well in the world. No one will ever walk over her, pity the fool who does as she once studied Kung Fu.

She is the oral historian of the family. She knows every detail of the Venn Diagram of our lives. She mimics me in both deeds and speech. I'm flattered by this and when I watch her sleep my heart yearns for her. I want that happiness and peace for her always.

We have adopted the exchange of "I love you," "I love you more," which I did with my mother. As the mother, I'm not sure I like this as it dredges up the maternal guilt. Am I not loving her enough? What am I doing wrong? No such guilt seems to leaden her little brow. She is forceful in her declarations. She loves me more because she loves me so much is her explanation. There is no either or. Comparisons between her and her brother can exist, comparisons between mother and son and daughter can exist, but not between her and I. The paradox is strange, and as the teen years loom on the horizon, I'm sure it will become even stranger.

Did I want a lover only to receive fighter? Perhaps. But maybe there is a cosmic equilibrium to all of this. We get what we need, not necessarily what we want. Right now, I am content to decorate my cupcake and let her decorate hers. I may tell her to slow down and work on each design, but she will not listen – at least not right away.

Daydream Believer

Had a blast recording my essay "Daydream Believer."  It can be heard at 7:35 am Thursday morning (March 8th), or if you don't get up that early or are already at work:http://www.kqed.org/a/perspectives/R201203080735
And congratulations to Victoria for winning an e-book of Grave Refrain!!!