Calling All New England Sister Queens Spotters

My map of the USA is filling up (and so is my collage) as kind friends and readers snap and send pictures of The Sister Queens from various locations around the nation.  New York leads the tally with pictures from all over the state (but oddly not Manhattan, publishing central).  I have photos of The Sister Queens with adorable children, crazy friends, B&N workers, and even with a Tennessee spring field in the background.  Thanks to all the spotters who have contacted me so far.

I am eager to finish up New England.  So, I am going to make things a little interesting.  I have these lovely bookplates (which I distribute to book clubs I visit virtually) and I will sign and send one each to the first people to spot, snap and send photographs of The Sister Queens from Maine ,Vermont, Massachusetts and Connecticut.

Just post a comment below letting me know you’ve spotted The Sister Queens (and where) or use the contact form here at the website.  I’ll let you know how to get your photo to me and you can let me know where you want your bookplate mailed.

Sex and the Historical Novelist

Birds do it, bees do it, and our ancestors most definitely did it, but should sex be included in the pages of historical novels?  Today at Peeking Between the Pages I discuss the expansion of sexual content from historical romance into straight historical fiction and my views on this trend.

Meanwhile, the latest review of The Sister Queens is in!  The Broke and the Bookish says:

an excellent slice of an extremely interesting period of time. We get the politics and social aspects of not one but two countries (always a bonus!) as well as in the latter part of the book, Louis’ crusade to theHoly Land. I felt very connected to them and their personalities were extremely opposite and varied. I enjoyed watching the sisters grow from young teenagers to mature mothers, queens, and friends. Recommended to all historical fiction lovers!

 

A Reluctant Time Traveler

Today I am guest blogging at The Book Vault.  My gracious host, Dominique, asked me to consider which era I’d like to visit if I could travel back in time, and what I would do once I got there.  If you think you know where I would head, my answer may surprise you.

It’s Launch Day Mes Amis!!!!

It is launch day at last!  I am off to celebrate at a luncheon including two of my favorite historical authors—Kate Quinn and Stephanie Dray.  But don’t hate me.

The truth is, launching a book involves more work (and sheer terror) than it does champagne.  And what launching a debut novel entails in this age of social media is one of the topics I discuss today at The Paperback Swap Other subjects on the table—why I chose to focus The Sister Queens on only two of the four daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence; a family controversy about whether I am more like Marguerite or Eleanor; and the book I am working on next.

Oh and you just might win a copy of The Sister Queens in the Paperback Swap giveaway.

Confessions of a Closet “Description Minimalist

Today my blog travels take me to Just One More Paragraph where I confess (oh heresy) that too much description in a historical novel (even of very lovely gowns) causes my eyes to glaze over.  How about you?

Come over, read my viewpoint on the effective uses of descriptive language in historical writing, and share yours.  While you’re there enter to win a copy of The Sister Queens.

Gifts My Sister Gave Me – Part II: The Giveaway

A sister is a gift.  Whether she is the mirror allowing us to see ourselves clearly when we’ve imagined we are somebody we are not, or whether she is a cautionary tale whose mistakes we act to avoid, our sisters shape us in profound ways.

Last week I shared how my sister gave me the gift of reinvention – reinvention as a writer.  Today, I am interested in hearing about your sister – specifically I want to know what positive gift or gifts she has given you.  I don’t mean that cashmere sweater she sent you for Christmas.  I want to know the good stuff — how she made you the person you are today, opened your eyes to something you might not have seen, or otherwise shaped you for the better.  The floor (or rather the comments section) is open.

And, in celebration of the fact that my novel, The Sister Queens, makes its debut one month from today I am going to make the sharing fun.  I will select two individuals from among those posting their comments (about their sister–see above) to this blog by midnight February 12th  and send each of them TWO (2) signed “advance-reader “copies of The Sister Queensone for themselves and one for their sister.  That means the winners will have  galleys of  The Sister Queens before anyone can purchase the novel.

Check this comment thread Monday, February 13th (one week from today) for names of the winners and instructions for those lucky two.  Bonne chance!

Women’s Work — Trobairitz, the First Female Composers of Western Secular Music

In the High Middle Ages the Occitan speaking world – of which Provence was a part – brought Europe a group of poet composers called troubadours. These musicians and their tradition of composing songs of courtly love, chivalric bravery, and bawdy humor quickly spread throughout much of Europe. The influence of troubadours and their work-product can hardly be overstated. Their verses were a stepping stone for virtually all of western literature that followed. Without the troubadours it is unlikely we would have Dante or Chaucer just to scratch the surface.

Who were the troubadours? Probably not who most people think.

Popular imagination tends envision troubadours as itinerant. In fact, they often attached themselves for long periods of time to a single court, enjoying the patronage of a nobleman or woman.

Nor were they vagabonds (romantic as that might seem). The earliest troubadours were members of the nobility, including the highest ranks. Ruling Dukes and Counts could be troubadours (e.g. William IX of Aquitaine a very early troubadour, and grandfather of Eleanor of Aquitaine, was a Duke). Even Kings—including Richard I of England; Thibaud I, King of Navarre (and Count of Champagne for good measure); and Alfonso X, King of Castile—were known to dabble as poet-musicians. Only gradually did individuals of the lower classes (merchants and tradesmen generally, rather than the truly poor) join their numbers. This makes sense given the fact that troubadours wrote a type of sophisticated verse that would be greatly facilitated (and may arguably have required) the writer to be a “person of letters” (educated).

Contemporary audiences also tend to think of troubadours as exclusively male. They were not. In medieval Occitania composing original poetry and setting it to music could be and was women’s work as well as men’s. The women who pursued this occupation were called trobairitz and they were the FIRST female secular poets and female composures of secular music in the western world.

Of the more than four hundred troubadours whose names are still known to scholars today, about twenty–or roughly 5%–can be positively identified as women, but women may well have been a higher percentage (is not always easy to distinguish the work of a trobairitz from that of a troubadour and it is also possible that some women used male pseudonyms for their work).

Like my Sister Queens, the female trobairitz came almost exclusively from the Occitan cultures (there are know trobairitz from Provence, Auvergne, Languedoc, Dauphine, Toulouse and Limousin). This is likely not a coincidence.

Circumstances in early 13th century Occitania created the perfect storm for the emergence of these secular women poets. Women of this region administered great estates—dispensing justice and defending property—at a time when such roles were far less common elsewhere in Europe. Why? First, they were able to inherit and govern territory in their own right. But perhaps more importantly, a nearly continuous string of crusades resulted in a large loss of Occitan men either temporarily or permanently (when a nobleman died or simply decided to stay in the Crusader States). And while their fathers, husbands and brothers were absent women throughout Occitania were left in charge of administering family holdings.

What the trobairitz wrote is as startling as the sudden emergence of these woman poets. Trobairitz used their voices to emphasize their desires and to assert their right to have love and passion in their lives. Consider this excerpt from a work of the most well known trobairitz, the Countess of Dia:

I should like to hold my knight
Naked in my arms at eve,
That he might be in ecstasy
As I cushioned his head against my breast . . .
I grant him my heart, my love,
My mind, my eyes, my life.

These are the words of noble women with enough self-assurance to express and defend not only their actions in taking lovers but their emotions and their passions. They also often emphasized feminine values both setting forth ideal love and in defining the valorous male. Pretty remarkable for the 13th century.

The period of the trobairitz was fleeting. They first appear in the literature early in the century and most of their writings are dated up to and through the 1260s. By 1280 they had disappeared entirely. While this may seem sad, it can be taken as a more positive reminder that history is not linear—even those periods when the roles of women were heavily circumscribed have been punctuated by moments of female progress and power.

If you are interested in hearing the words of the trobairitz as they were meant to be—sung—there are a number of excellent recordings (e.g. In Time of Daffodils: Songs of the Trobairitz, The Sweet Look And The Loving Manner – Trobairitz, Love Lyrics and Chansons de Femme from Medieval France or The Romance Of  The Rose – Feminine Voices From Medieval France)

I will leave you with one of my favorites–a rendition of a poem by the Countess of Dia

A Glimpse of 13th Century London Through Matthew Paris’s Eyes

Another image to share. This one still and far older than the video I posted yesterday.

Here for your enjoyment is A drawing of London by the chronicler Matthew Paris from his Historia Anglorum, Chronica majora, Part III; Continuation of Chronica maiora.  This manuscript is now in the collection of the British Library.

This sketch is believed to have been executed between 1250 and 1259.

There Ought to be a Law!

Real Tudor laws leave a gentleman in nothing but his skivvies. Elizabeth may not see the humor in this, but I CERTAINLY do.

How Belva Lockwood Got Me Thinking About Overlooked Women in History

Once upon a time I was young.  No, honestly.  Then as now I was a history nerd—big time.  In fact (trivia alert), I was the first member of my graduating class to declare a major in history.  Anyway, one day the younger me was given a postcard by her Woman’s History professor.  A postcard showing the black and white image of Belva Lockwood.  This image as a matter of fact.

It took me a while to discover the importance of this gift, delivered, as I remember it, with no real explanation beyond the mild-mannered comment, “I thought you might like this.”  With age and distance I now realize my professor gave me the postcard to galvanize me to action; to make me angry—not at him but at the way history was taught and who got left out.  You see Belva Lockwood was the first woman to have her name on the ballot for President of the United States (yes, I know Victoria Woodhull “ran” but her name did not appear on official ballots and votes for her were never tallied).  She was also the first woman to be admitted to practice before the Supreme Court (though mind you she had to write to President Grant just to get the law diploma she’d earned and it took an act of Congress to see her admitted before the High Court).  But I’d never heard of her.

That DID make me angry, and it also made me think.  Just what does a woman have to do to be noticed, historically speaking?  Give birth to a King?  Have her head chopped off?  How can that be when there were so many women throughout history who did so much more?  Even today, Belva remains only the tip of the “over-looked” iceberg.  And because we continue to under-represent women in history and underestimate their activities readers—both of non-fiction history and historical fiction—often think writers get it WRONG when they accurately report what historical female characters did.

I recently saw an example of this in a book review.  A reviewer took Author X to task because her female main-character pressed her right to rule her own territories.  “How dare the author suggest,” and I am paraphrasing here, “that a woman in the Middle Ages would assert such authority, or would even have the desire to rule in her own right!”  The reviewer went on to castigate Author X for imposing modern feminist ideas on long dead women.  But the truth is plenty of women held territory (and titles) in their own right during the time period of the author’s book.  The reviewer was just wrong—likely because he/she had never heard of such women.  I remember wondering what said reviewer would make of the fact that my main characters’ uncle, Thomas of Savoy, was Count of Flanders only by marriage and lost that title when his wife died and her title passed to her SISTER.  My guess is the particular reviewer would think that bit of history was made-up, feminist-revisionism as well.

It is time to recognize, as consumers of history and historical fiction, that women have filled many, varied, roles throughout the centuries—even if we haven’t always heard about them.  Some women did extra-ordinary things with those roles (e.g. just like male rulers, some female rulers were better at it than others), but the fact women held such roles wasn’t, in and of itself, necessarily as extraordinary as modern audiences seem to think.  In each period of history we need to look at the specific facts rather than relying on broad assumptions.  For example, to assume things were necessarily better for women later in history than they were earlier is to incorrectly posit a linear progression in women’s rights and opportunities.

I am happy to say that, imo, there’s a lot of really wonderful historical fiction celebrating women who have been historically overlooked these days.  There are also fabulous books that examine “big name” historical women in new ways—as more than “ornaments of royal courts” or “mothers of kings.”  Personally, I am very interested in telling the stories of women who are more obscure than they deserve to be.  Probably because of that darned postcard.  When I stumbled upon a footnote in a history of Notre Dame de Paris about Marguerite of Provence (her image is carved over Notre Dame’s Portal Rouge) and her sisters I had a Belva Lockwood moment.  Clearly these young women (all of whom made significant political marriages) were celebrities of the High Middle Ages.  Marguerite and Eleanor were the queens of France andEngland for heaven’s sake!  Yet I had never heard of them.  I made up my mind right then to tell their story.

I wish Professor T was alive today.  I’d send him a copy of my book and I’d put the Belva Lockwood postcard in it—as an excellent bookmark and a thank you of sorts.



 



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