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A Million Little Words

Book_open1_2 

A scathing review full of vitriol and acid. Not about my book, thank God. No, this is for a new book by James Frey, the same fellow who brought you A Million Little Pieces that was supposed to be a memoir, but...oh yeah. It wasn't. The same man who got reamed by Oprah on television. The same man whom HarperCollins gave a million little dollars for his next book? Are they crazy??? But fear not. If this LA Times reviewer is any indication, maybe HarperCollins has learned a million little lessons from this at last.

I have never read a review quite like this. It opens thus:  "Bright Shiny Morning is a terrible book. One of the worst I've ever read." And it pretty much goes downhill from there.

I'm going to try to stay on David Ulin's good side.

You can read the whole review here.   

Top Ten Myths About the Middle Ages

I think whether we know it or not, we all harbor myths about the Middle Ages, that time period usually considered between 500 and 1500 AD. And since I write medieval mysteries and spend a lot of time researching the era, I thought we might spend some time going over those tired myths that crop up from time to time; those hackneyed fallacies that travel the net and maybe even into the conversation around your dinner table. Let’s take them in no particular order:

1. People didn’t bathe—in fact, bath houses were open to all. The whole city of Bath in England started out life in Celtic times, pre-Roman, and were valued for their curative waters (it was the only hot springs in Britain, so it must be from the gods, right?) but the baths themselves were in continuous use right through to the Georgian period. Of course, Bath’s hot springs were seen as special, even religious. Public baths and saunas were social in nature while at the same time giving you a chance to clean up a bit. Washing hands before meals was always the custom, and though full immersion in a tub of heated bath water was strictly for the rich, the common folk took spit baths often. The idea that a person would bathe only once a year is absurd. Are our noses any different from medieval times? Stink is stink no matter the era. Medbath

2. Meat was covered in sauces because it was rotten. Lack of refrigeration made storing food a problem, true, but it was not insurmountable. Meat was salted and dried. Vegetables and fruits were preserved. There certainly was an abundance of dried foods, beans, barley, oats to be used on demand. But there was also fresh fish and shellfish to be had, rabbits kept, doves, chickens, geese, ducks, wild fowl, wild boar, venison. The common man who kept a few pigs would wait to slaughter the family pig in the winter when all the other preserved meats were consumed, which would in turn supply a great deal of preserved meat to last throughout the winter: hams, sausages, hocks, etc. Meat, when butchered, was hung and aged without refrigeration. If you lived in a market town or in London, for instance, you shopped daily where fresh, aged meat was available at market. But sauces were employed simply to make things taste better, different,--just like today. Bam! They’re just kicking it up a notch. And the spices that were used are a bit different than what we’d expect today for European cookery. Many spices that we would only use in desserts—Cinnamon, cardamom, allspice, nutmeg—would be used with meats, along with dried fruits like apricots, figs, raisins. Perhaps these were a Mediterranean or Moorish influence—many of the recipes remind me of Moroccan cooking, in fact—but it might have more influence in what was available at certain times of the year, how much of a certain ingredient was stored and used.

3. Flat Earth. – Even the simplest peasant could use the proof of his eyes. Just why did a ship sink below the horizon? You can tell by the shadows that the moon is an orb. Orbs, you say? You mean those things kings were depicted holding in paintings to show their Christian dominion over the world, a global world?

The best known work of medieval thought, both in its own time and now, is Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica from the mid 1200s. In book 1, question 1, article 1 of this treatise, the roundness of the earth is given as an obvious example of a well-known scientific truth. “For the astronomer and the physicist both may prove the same conclusion: that the earth, for instance, is round: the astronomer by means of mathematics (i.e. abstracting from matter), but the physicist by means of matter itself.”

Columbus did not sail the ocean blue in the year of 1492 to discover a new world or to prove the earth was round. He was looking for a new route to the orient. When he refused to believe he was somewhere new, he named the inhabitants “Indians” because he tried to convince himself he was in India. He in fact failed in his mission and did not completely appreciate what he ran into.

4. Lawlessness—pitch-forked and torch waving peasants in uprisings; unbridled thievery on the streets; highwaymen stalking the woods. Though there was a fair share of the latter, the courts were busy and efficient. And the lawsuits! The most detailed documents from the period include the law courts and lawsuits by ordinary citizens against the other, women suing men and men suing women. A truly equal opportunity system. And speaking of women, women had many opportunities to better themselves, though it usually involved marrying well. A servant could certainly gain in rank if she married her master (and likewise male servants who married their mistresses—that is, their bosses). Women could be brewsters (brewers of beer) and run alehouses, though mostly if they were widows to men who were in these professions.

Chastitybelt_300 5. Chastity Belts—the idea that a knight would encase his wife in a contraption to ensure fidelity as he went off to the Crusades might be a cultural curiosity, but it was never fact. What woman would put up with that? I mean really. It is a Victorian myth to perpetuate the romantic (romantic?) notions of an age of Chivalry. Remember, this was the age of the pre-Raphaelites, whose depiction of noble, dutch-boy coifed Crusaders would meet their lady loves in sunlit groves, a veritable Rivendell of velvet gowns and pointy sleeves. Those last vestiges of chicanery were removed from the British Museum, many of which have been on display since 1846—which was probably when they were made! A spokesman of the museum explained: “It is probable that the majority of existing examples were made in the 19th century as curiosities for the prurient or jokes for the tasteless.”

6. Off with his head—Not so much. Only the French Revolution saw so much beheading. Beheading wasn’t a neat way to go nor was it saved for the general population. You had to have been a very naughty boy or girl to get this treatment, and the headsmen were so unskilled at this that there were often many chops to get it right. (Remember Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter?) No wonder Ann Boleyn requested a French swordsman to do the deed for her. These were certainly not public spectacles, but within palace walls and only a special or invited crowd to attend.

7. Witch Burning—Not so much there either. The occasional true heretic was burned at the stake—people like Joan of Arc. But Miss of Arc was a special case and it was more a case of English versus French rather than person versus Church. Witches—when witches there were—were generally hanged.Stake_2  

8. “Dark”—as in “Dark Ages” used to refer to the proper title “Early Middle Ages”, a period from 500 to 800 A.D. “Dark” as in unenlightened. Everyone was just waiting around for the Renaissance. It must have been such a nuisance living in the “middle” ages, in between important stuff. Contemporary scholars of any repute don’t refer to these periods as “dark” and the myth of the Renaissance as the collective sigh of relief that the dark period was finally over is again, one of those Victorian conceits, like nude sculptures in unpainted marble. They were deemed more “Classic” when in fact, the Greek and Roman statuary they were emulating had been painted with all their pubescent details. The Renaissance or “rebirth” is a false designation, and indeed, one wonders where exactly that line can be drawn. The Second World War left the world ready for rock and roll and thus the age of Free Love in the sixties and Disco in the Seventies...though no one was ready for that. No, each epoch simply ushered in the next, and if Times They Were A-changin’, then they simply did.

9. Ate off pewter plates and threw bones on the floor—Okay, pewter was something still relegated to the wealthy and not in wide use until about the 15th century. Wooden plates were more often used in common households. In very wealthy homes, silver plates. Plates made of precious metals were in fact used as currency. You’d keep your plate under lock and key. If you ever had to make a hasty departure, grabbing your plates was a convenient way to carry your wealth away with you.

Another myth was that medieval people were often felled by lead poisoning from all this pewter that they didn’t use. It takes a lot to leach lead from pewter. And lead poisoning doesn’t knock you out. The symptoms of lead poisoning may include: irritability, aggressive behavior, low appetite and energy, difficulty sleeping, headaches, reduced sensations, loss of previous developmental skills (in young children), anemia, constipation, abdominal pain and cramping (usually the first sign of a high, toxic dose of lead poison). Very high levels (meaning you’d have to be eating the stuff in large quantities) may cause vomiting, staggering gait, muscle weakness, seizures, or coma.

You might have heard that some believe the term Upper Crust came from the wealthy desiring to eat only the upper crusts of the bread, and thus the term was born. Uh uh. Trencher loaves were cooked specifically for their use as plates for food. After it soaked up the juices you could eat it, but more often than not, your servants ate it or it was donated to almshouses to pass out to the poor. Why would you want to eat just the crust? If you were rich, in fact, you prided yourself on being able to afford well-milled wheat for light, fluffy loaves of bread—the Wonder Bread of the Middle Ages. The poorer folk actually ate healthier bread, made with husks and oats and other dark products (that we pay more for today in the supermarket. Ain’t that a kick in the head?). This upper crust notion comes from 1460, “Kutt e vpper crust [of the loaf] for youre souerayne”—in other words, serve him first.

And you certainly never threw your trash on the floor whether rich or poor. You lived there for God sake. Would you do it now? Dogs might have been wandering about and you might have fed them scraps as you might do now, but tossing scraps over your shoulder? Let’s be reasonable.

10. Animals congregated in the thatching to keep warm and when it rained, they’d sometimes slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying: It's raining cats and dogs. There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

What a load of twaddle. The thatchers art is remarkable. Long straw as well as Norfolk reeds are bundled together very tightly, tied to the roof framework, and sparred to each other with hazel spars (resembling giant bobby pins) before it is cut and trimmed to just the right contour for the roof. It becomes a very tight seal indeed, providing excellent insulation to keep warmth in during the winter and out during the summer. Nothing—not rain or snow—is going to get through it. Houses are still thatched in this same method today in England and other parts of Europe, and it is very expensive in modern times because the art is all but lost except for a few hard-working artisans. The idiom “raining like cats and dogs” comes in around the 17th century “raining dogs and polecats”, and later by Jonathan Swift of Gulliver’s Travels fame, who writes, "I know Sir John will go, though he was sure it would rain cats and dogs". No, canopy beds with bed curtains allow the sleeper to keep warm and allow them a bit of privacy when servants were likely to sleep in the same room with you.

Why do such a myths and all the others like it persist even to this day? I think because it seems medieval to us, what we have perceived the middle ages to be as depicted in popular films and bad history in school (as bad as the persistent myth of the noble Pilgrims coming to these shores to escape religious persecution... But that’s a whole other story.) And it was so long ago. Well beyond living memory. Five hundred years ago at the end of the period. In England in the 1500s, they were now speaking an English we could easily recognize. But before that, in the heyday of the middle ages, they were speaking Chauceran English, or Middle English. A difficult tongue for us to recognize. This puts it quite distant indeed when we can’t even understand the language.

Were they that different from us? In many ways, yes. There was an understanding of one’s place, a code of ethics we might bristle at in the U.S. Family ties were much more important than they are today. There was—for the most part--a common belief system. But there were also many similarities. Love, betrayal, friendships, deaths, disease, ambitions, desires—the array of the human condition.

How would you survive if placed in the middle ages? Maybe not too well. We would have a hard time understanding the customs and mores of the time. We live in such wasteful times. They did not. We live in a time where we care for people of all kinds, all races, all faiths, people we will never meet. They lived in a time where the “other” was a danger to them. Though in many instances, those “others” helped bring about new ideas.

What do we know and how do we know it? Well, we don’t get our history from novels, or films, or –God help us—the History Channel. What we do is read primary sources—the actual documents, archaeological discoveries, or we move on to secondary and tertiary sources like text books by the latest scholars in the field who draw their conclusions from primary sources and from the exchange of ideas with other scholars.

Then, what I get to do, is take that information, recreate that world and time, and play with my repertoire of characters to bring you interesting dramas.

Potter Peters Out

It's happened. "The Times Book Review's senior editor, Dwight Garner, announced Thursday...that the best-seller list for the May 11 issue of the book review does not include a single Harry Potter title."

Ten years. The Book Review, in fact, created a seperate children's best-seller list because the Potter titles kept taking up room every freakin' week. And then, they had to create another seperate list just for series children's books. I suppose it only means that every child in America already has a copy. Maybe two.

This phenomenom has been such fun. I was fortunate enough to go to midnight bookstore events for the last two, and I'm so glad I did, so glad I was a part of it all. Something like this is not likely to happen again, something with which both children and adults can find common ground. I will personally miss it off the best-seller list and hope that it doesn't stay away too long.

You can read the story herePotter3Potter4Potter2_2

Blood Relics

We can't talk about my Medieval Noir series without talking about relics. And so I borrow this article from my other blog Exploring Relics.

Holyblood Blood relics are prized relics indeed. When Catholics celebrate the mass and partake of the Eucharist, they are sharing in the promises of Jesus, that “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” (John 6:53) The Communion bread, the Host becomes the flesh and blood of Jesus through Transubstantiation, with the priest as middle man. But there are places that are said to have the preserved blood of Jesus—and others—in their reliquaries.

Joseph of Aramathea plays an important role in most Christ blood relics, either capturing the blood in a cup while Jesus hung on the cross (and here is where the complicated grail history begins) or later keeping some as he cleaned the body before burial.

I must first explain the unlikelihood of such an event from the Jewish Pharisee that Joseph was. Surely he was aware of the blood prohibitions, of touching blood and bodies that would make him unclean to enter the temple. This would be a horrific situation for a priest of the temple, his being unable to enter it until he underwent many weeks of ritual bathing before he was declared clean again. The thought of even saving blood must have been completely foreign. But let us, for the sake of argument, assume that Joseph—for whatever reason—had the idea to preserve some of Jesus’ blood. What did he do with it from there?

If we were to follow the grail legend, then we would end up at Glastonbury in the southwest region of England, which gave rise to its co-mingling with the Arthurian legends. But if we were to follow other legends, we might end up in Constantinople. During the fourth crusade it is said that the Holy Blood of Christ made its way from Constantinople to the Basilius chapel in Bruges on April 7, 1150. The relic consists of coagulated blood kept in a 12th century style rock-crystal flask. Since 1303, the relic was carried around the city walls in procession, called the Holy Blood Procession which is still celebrated today.

Westminster Abbey was presented with Christ’s blood by King Henry III of England on October 3, 1247, that the king had received from the Masters of the Knights Templars and Hospitallers and the patriarch of Jerusalem. It was encased in a crystal vase. The Bishop of Norwich preached a sermon, promising an indulgence of six years and one hundred and sixteen days to anyone who venerated the relic (that is, six years and one hundred and sixteen days less in Purgatory). It never made Westminster the pilgrim stop that Henry had desired. In fact, it was not lost on the populace that Henry was desperately trying to compete with the French king who a year later, dedicated his Sainte Chapelle with relics from the holy land, among them the Crown of Thorns (which we’ll talk about in another post), the Holy Lance, a portion of the sponge soaked with vinegar, purple vestments with which Jesus was mocked, and a sepulchral stone.

In Hailes Abbey, not too far from Westminster, larger crowds came to see their vial of Christ’s blood. But when Hailes’ blood was scrutinized in the 16th century by Henry VIII’s examiners, it was reported that the vial consisted of not Christ’s blood but of honey mixed with saffron coloring. Yet another account says it contained oft replaced goose blood. Whatever was in it, this vial, along with the one at Westminster, was disposed of by the Reformation’s agents.

One of the more famous blood relics belongs to Saint Januarius or as he is known in Italy, San Gennaro. Born in Naples in 300 AD, he was a Bishop of Beneveto around the time of Emperor Diocletian who was particularly nasty to Christians. While offering spiritual support to imprisoned fellow Christians, Januarius was himself arrested. The prelate, Timoteo, put Januarius through several gruesome tortures—thrown into a furnace, tried to tear his limbs apart on the wheel—but he seemed to come out of them unscathed. Finally, Januarius and his fellow prisoners were condemned to be torn apart by wild beasts. When this also proved useless, Timoteo ordered Januarius to be beheaded, the favored way of getting rid of saints-to-be.

Januarius’ old wet-nurse Eusebia, gathered his blood into vials and his body and head were wrapped and hidden until the time that Christianity was no longer persecuted. It was on this occasion that Eusebia was free to display the glass vials of the martyr’s dried blood, and for the first time, they became liquid. Januarius was one of the many honored saints in Italy for many centuries, but there is no mention of his blood or it’s “liquefaction” until 1389. By then his skull and blood had come to rest at the Real Cappella del Tesoro di San Gennaro, located near Pozzuoli. And to this day, on September 19, the feast day of Saint Januarius, his blood relics are displayed with much praying, novenas, and other celebrations. If the blood liquefies, it is signaled by the firing off of canons. Sort of like the groundhog seeing his shadow.

The Catholic Church encourages the celebration of the saint but falls short of declaring the liquefaction event a miracle, opening it up to scientific study. We won’t debate it here, but as we constantly remind readers, that the relevancy of a relic is in its ability to inspire rather than its ability to run the gauntlet of scientific scrutiny.

*The picture above is the Christ blood relic from Bruges and is part of the Procession of the Holy Blood every May.

British vs American

Britam20logomedium We’re a people separated only by language, or so we thought. I am speaking, of course, of our British relatives across the pond. Now I’m an Anglophile of the first order. Grew up with the stuff, maternal grandparents were British until they became American citizens as adults, watched Masterpiece Theatre and lots of Brit films all my life. Devoured Brit lit. But even I, when I went to England some thirty years ago, stumbled over some of the dialects. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I only speak American,” I found myself saying. But it’s more than dialects, isn’t it? That’s a long way across the Atlantic and we’ve grown apart in many ways. Perhaps it happened even longer ago when we dressed like natives and tossed their tea into Boston harbor. After all, it only took about 100 years for our own dialects to diverge from our Brit brethrens from the time our ancestors landed on Plymouth Rock till the Shot Heard Round the World.

Here’s a sample of some of the insights from British author Stephen Booth during the Sisters in Crime online Mentor Mondays (you have to join Sisters in Crime online to read the rest).

“I know it sounds like a stereotype, but British readers are much (more) reserved than their US counterparts, on the whole. Americans tend to be unrestrained in their enthusiasm - which is great, but a bit of a shock the first time we Brits encounter it! “When I do bookshop signings in the UK, booksellers often tell me that readers really want signed copies of my books, but they won't come into the shop while I'm there - because they ‘don't want to bother the author’. At talks and library events, when it comes to the Q&A I usually 'plant' the first question with a member of staff, because I know no reader will want to be the first to put their hand up with a question. Once you get over the barrier, they're fine. But I've never had those problems in the US! British readers also don't like the 'hard sell' approach by authors which I see in the USA sometimes.”

Oh we garish Americans! Yes, it’s true. We’re a noisy lot. And, apparently, we don’t go in for subtly where book covers are concerned either. According to Carol Pinchefsky in her blog entry from 2005, “American book covers were more colorful, almost garish, while British book covers were more austere and muted. Big empty swathes of negative space filled the British covers, and they looked practically empty next to their busy American counterparts.”

Rita Frangie, an assistant art director at Penguin Books, explains. "Here [in the United States] we tend to want to use every inch, to fill [the cover] up with color, and to get it to do as much as it can do. Everything here is bigger, more commercial, more targeted to sell and to advertise. In Europe, the covers are geared to look more like the way they dress: very simple. Their use of negative space goes along with the theory of less is more."

There may be something to that. Meanwhile, I’m still on tenter hooks waiting for my own cover art. Since it depicts British subject matter and British subjects but is an American publication, it could be anything, from subtly garish to negative space on one side and crammed with brightly-colored buildings and people on the other. At any rate, you’ll see it here first.

LA Times Festival of Books 2008--Sunday

Mystery_panel It's another hot day, with a wildland fire up in the Angeles National Forest. Yup, it's a typical day in southern California. But not so typical is the final day of the book festival.

We arrived early enough to wander a bit, pass out more bookmarks, and catch pal Cornelia Read, who is the blurber of record (so far) for Veil of Lies. Bought her new book The Crazy School and chatted, wishing her great luck as she is a fantastic writer and an even more fantastic gal.Cornelia_read_2

My hubby and I were at leisure to do more shopping, where we picked up Laura Lippman's What the Dead Know and a book I've been wanting to read, Mary Roach's Stiff. You know. Light reading.

We finally wandered over to our first panel in the splendor of air-conditioned comfort, which was Starting a Mystery Series with Jacqueline Winspear, Sandi Ault, Chris Reich, and Sarah Weinman(m). Winspear has had great success with her Maisie Dobbs series, started about five years ago; Ault's debut novel is nominated for an Edgar and a second book is on the way; and Reich is embarking on series fiction for the first time, with many stand alones to his name.

The questions posed by Weinman sought to pin these authors down on whether they expected to write a series or not, who were their influences, and a little insight into their characters. It's gratifying to hear--even in such diverse voices--that it is the same with most authors, where their ideas and characters come from. Makes me feel I'm on the right road, indeed, when I can commiserate on these topics (for instance, when I was good and decided on the medieval noir theme, Crispin sprang forth whole, like Athena from Zeus's forehead, fully formed and ready-armed).

At the end of the interesting discussion, I finally had my moment with Sarah Weinman and gave her the inevitable bookmark. A very nice lady. Don't forget to pop over to her blog. You won't be disappointed.

Julie_andrews2_2  I was late for the Julie Andrews interview with Pat Morrison, but did get my seat. Really wanted to see her as Julie Andrews was definitely a presence when I was growing up. Having a hankering to act myself, I spent a lot of time listening to records (yeah, records. Remember those?) of her Broadway performances of My Fair Lady and Camelot. I loved Camelot. I'm a mezzo soprano and can't quite hit her notes and, of course, I was never ingenue material. But it never hurt to try and I knew them quite well. It was a very heartwarming interview, with great encouragement coming from Ms. Andrews to aspiring artists, no matter their stripe.

After that, it was just a quick bite and we were done.

Snapshots:

  • Working on the crossword puzzles and getting quite a few on the board.
  • An eight-year-old kid at one of the comic book booths rushing over to a Batman book and exclaiming, "I've been looking for this all my life!"
  • Strolling down "Wacko Walk" where the enthusiastic conspiracy theorists had at it. Cheney
  • $5 lemonades
  • Scoring great parking. 

We'll see you there next year. I hope to be so busy signing at various places, I won't have time to see panels (maybe even be on one myself!). Cheers!       

Festival of Books 2008--Saturday

Img_0179_2 It's hot in southern California, and it always seems to be particularly so on Festival weekends, but what are ya gonna do?

A wee bit of traffic on our two hour trip to UCLA; a few fenderbenders (not us, thank goodness), but we managed to get there on time anyway. As I told everyone who would listen, I was volunteering to help at the Mystery Writers of America booth at 10am, and I bounded in on time to do my bit. I met a fellow Sister in Crime who heard I was going to be there, which was a very nice boost.

Last time I did this stint at the MWA booth, I relieved someone who had already done their bit trying to hock memberships, but there was no one to relieve so I stood around, trying not to be in the way, and did my hocking from the front: "Mystery Writers of America! Readers and writers! Join the club and hobnob with mystery writers!" I was wearing a t-shirt that had a picture of Chaucer with a line that read "Chaucer is my homeboy" and that garnered a few interested persons. I passed out a lot of my bookmarks. People seemed interested in the book. After all, that's why I was there! Met some very nice people that way, including the MWA pres Les Klinger and another author helping out, Pamela Samuels Young.

After my hour was up, I headed for my first panel of the day, The Literary Detective, moderated by Sarah Weinman, with Les Klinger, Peter Robinson, and April Smith. I passed out yet more bookmarks to the folks waiting in line (I have found in the few years I have attended this event, that to bother other than mystery panel lines was waste of time. "Mystery? What's that?")

The panel began right away and one question was about what is literary and what is not. Robinson opined that crimewriters were obliged to produce a book a year, due to its serial nature, while a literary novel had the luxury of a long time of conceiving, planning, and just plain thinking about it, and then taking a few years to produce.

Smith called the literary novel more complex and transformative, taking each character to a new experience.

Gears were switched a few times and then the question was posed about the detective himself. How has he changed from those early days of the birth of literary detectives? Klinger reminded us that many of the cliches we recognize in detective fiction today were invented by these first authors: Poe, Conan-Doyle, Wilke Collins. In the case of Holmes, the butler did indeed do it in one of the stories. But Robinson pointed out that there are new technical challenges today for the detective: DNA, mobile phones, cameras everywhere (in Britain), making it difficult for the murderer to remain an unknown in fiction.

A lively discussion left me listening more than taking notes, so I guess that is the sign of a good panel. Afterwards, I wanted to introduce myself to Sarah Weinman as she has sometimes linked to this blog and it seemed the thing to do to personally thank her and also so that she can put a face to the name. But she skeedaddled out of the panel too quickly for me to catch her (did I just write "skeedaddled?"). I'll try to catch her tomorrow.

Img_0164_3  After this, my hubby and I headed over to the Gore Vidal interview, which is always a treat. Well worth it.

We blew off the next panel in order to look at some of the booksellers and by then it was 3:00 pm and we were pooped out. We were returning the next day, so no point in looking at the whole place in one go.

Tomorrow: More bookmark distribution, an interview with Julie Andrews, and I will drop by to say hello to Cornelia Read, and maybe catch Sarah Weinman and--wait for it--give her a bookmark. See you tomorrow. 

Saint George Day...er...a day late

Stgeorgewindow

I just couldn't get to this yesterday, his feastday. But we mustn't let too many days go by without making mention of this pretty important medieval saint, Saint George, patron saint of England (it's in the Union flag!) and many other places. This is a rerun from a post from about a year ago.

Saint George. A fourth century martyr, George became the patron of many countries, including England, as he was the patron of soldiers and armies. He was born in Lydda, Palestine and was himself a soldier. He is best known for his heroics found in the Golden Legend, practically a field guide to the middle ages compiled by Jacobus de Voragine in the 13th century, who gathered the lives of many saints. The familiar legend wherein George slew a dragon to save a fair maiden from a gruesome death is most likely more metaphor for his accomplishments fighting the evil of paganism. Though it does make for great imagery in church windows. George became a soldier in the Roman army and a secret Christian. But Diocletian decreed that the Christians must be persecuted. George refused and even spoke out against it. Well, he was arrested, put to various tortures which he survived, never denouncing his faith, and was eventually—wait for it—beheaded.

His cult was so popular that by the 15th century his feast day was almost more important than Christmas. Because of his immense popularity, his feast day (death day) is celebrated on many different dates: 23 April (Roman Catholic); 3 November (Russian Orthodox); fourth Sunday in June (Malta); third Sunday in July (Gozo) Dragons_moreau_saint_george_small

He is the patron of a dizzying array of countries, afflictions, and occupations: Amersfoort, Netherlands; Aragon; agricultural workers; archers; armourers; Beirut, Lebanon; Boy Scouts; butchers; Canada; Cappadocia; Catalonia; cavalry; chivalry; Constantinople; Crusaders; England; equestrians; Ethiopia; farmers; Ferrara, Italy; field hands; field workers; Freiburg, Baden-Württemberg, Germany; Genoa, Italy; Georgia; Germany; Gozo; Greece; Haldern, Germany; Heide, Germany; herpes; horsemen; horses; husbandmen; Istanbul; knights; lepers; leprosy; diocese of Limburg, Germany; Lithuania; Malta; Modica, Sicily; Moscow, Russia; Order of the Garter; Palestine; Palestinian Christians; plague; Portugal; Ptuj, Slovenia; riders; saddle makers; saddlers; Senj, Croatia; sheep; shepherds; skin diseases; skin rashes; soldiers; syphilis; Teutonic Knights; Venice.

So if you are a saddle-making farmer Boy Scout with herpes in Baden-Württemberg, Germany, take heart. Someone’s looking out for you.   

John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster

John_gauntIf you go to Crispin's blog (and why haven't you?) you will see another poll that asks, "who would make the better king?" Among the choices are Richard II (the actual king), Edward of Woodstock otherwise known as the Black Prince, and John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster. Most who have taken the poll voted for Lancaster. Surely this is how Crispin would have voted. And why is this? Let's take a brief look at the duke.

John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster. Something of an imposing figure in his day. Born in Ghent (Gaunt) Flanders in 1340, he began his fighting career early and married well to further his holdings. He married his third cousin Blanche of Lancaster, and when his father-in-law died, he inherited the title, becoming the earl of Lancaster, which made him the wealthiest man in England. Later his father Edward III made him a "duke". He campaigned with his brother Edward of Woodstock and fought many battles in the Hundred Years War and in aid to his ally Peter the Cruel of Castile, though many of his more successful battles were in backrooms rather then on a battlefield.

When Blanche died, he married Peter’s daughter Constance or Costanza, and laid claim to the throne of Castile (he liked to be called "Lord of Spain," but I don't know how many indulged him in this title.) He took command of the troops when his brother Edward fell ill, and through backroom and bedroom dealings, gained control of England while his father Edward III declined in health. If Edward of Woodstock had died without an heir, John would certainly have become king. But it is the quirk of the line of succession that fouled that up. Edward might have been quite competant. He was certainly well liked, but he died right before his father himself gave up the ghost and Richard was the next in line. Gaunt_amorial

The “Good Parliament” of 1376 cut Gaunt down to size by stripping him and his cohorts of power, but it wasn’t long until he rebounded, put his friends in place, and put together his own hand-picked Parliament in 1377. At this time his nephew Richard II came to the throne with Gaunt ore or less as steward. Gaunt again was the most powerful man in England. He made some decisions that did not always sit well with the people but he wasn't the king and let Richard take the brunt of it. He made darned sure, in fact, that he wasn't associated with any talk of taking the reins from Richard. If he had wanted to do it, he surely could have. One wonders why he did not chose to do so.

In his household, Lancaster had the court poet Geoffrey Chaucer as a loyal friend and servant. Was it because he liked the man or liked his sister-in-law more, for the duke entertained Katherine Swynford as his mistress for many, many years, and even married her a year after Constance died. Does this sound familiar? (This wasn't his first mistress. When he was a young man he took one of the queen's [his mother's] ladies-in-waiting as a mistress, Marie de St. Hiliare, and had a daughter with her, named Blanche Plantagenet). All told, he had about 14 children both legitimate and ill-, with nine living into adulthood. His illegitimate children from Katherine Swynford were made legitimate by King Richard when John finally married her but they were barred from inheriting the throne. But their eldest son John later had a granddaughter, Margaret Beaufort, whose son became Henry VII and took the throne from the last Plantagenet. So never say never.   

Gaunt_tombbig_2 King Richard later had a falling out with the duke’s son Henry Bolingbroke and kicked him out of the country. But it is Lancaster who gets the last laugh. In 1400, Richard is forced to abdicate and is then left to starve to death. Lancaster’s son Henry seized the throne and thus the royal House of Lancaster began, followed by three more kings. Unfortunately, the venerable duke was in his grave by then.

More Bookstore Closings

Medieval_library

We have written it here before. Duttons and others. But now it's Long Beach landmark Acres of Books. They've sold the property to a developer. Well, it is southern California and that property has got to be worth some gold. But still. This was a place that was literally "acres of books." There is nothing like walking into one of these places. What is that smell that comes off of old books, anyway?  A combination of rabbit glue and must? It's that same aroma in the special collections section of libraries, where there are equal numbers of treasures hidden amongst the stacks. I'm sure there will always be used book stores just as there will always be thrift stores. At least when we dispose of things, we don't always toss it down the storm drain.

I spent many an afternoon at Acres of Books when I lived in the South Bay area. Lots of hours of entertainment and lots of books to buy. I still have them. I may throw out a lot of stuff at home, but books never seem to leave; they only multiply!

I'm more worried these days about real bookstores with new books. In another generation, will they just become another dodo? I was heartened by a recent trip to Pasadena (the big city to me now) when I went to a Sisters in Crime LA meeting for the first time in a year or more. I dropped in on the Barnes & Noble in Old Town and was very gratified to see how busy it was--on a Sunday! All the chairs were occupied with readers and a few of the aisles had customers sprawled on the floor. (I had some bookmarks with me so I left them in a few of the more popular medieval mysteries.)

I hope we don't lose our brick and mortar stores. There really is no way to browse online like you can in person. And e-books are just not the same. The heft, the brilliant color of the dust jacket--that smell of rabbit glue and must. I don't think you can fake that.

The article about Acres of Books is here.   

*The picture above is not of Acres of Books. It is a medieval library somewhere in Europe.