Back to Top

Monthly Archives: June 2012

A few weeks ago I posted some fun stuff about ballooning but today I’ll talk about the risks taken by the early aeronauts.
Pilatre de Rozier, along with the Marquis d’Arlandes, was one of the first aeronauts to go up in a hot air balloon (Montgolfiere). He was also the first to die in a balloon accident. After a number of hot air balloon flights, De Rozier planned a Channel crossing. Since a Montgolfiere could not carry enough fuel for such a flight, he devised a hybrid hot air/hydrogen balloon. De Rozier himself may have been concerned about this combination of airborne furnace and a highly flammable gas, but nevertheless he and his companion, Pierre Roumain, set off in June of 1785. Accounts I’ve read vary as to whether the balloon actually caught fire or not. What is certain is that the balloon crashed, killing both aeronauts.
The earliest English balloonist, James Sadler, had many misadventures. During one flight, the balloon dragged him for several miles, illustrating the difficulty of landing in windy conditions. Another time he ended up in the Bristol Channel, where he was rescued by a boat. Sadler’s son Windham was the first to cross the Irish Channel in 1816. But sadly, he died in 1824 when his balloon struck a chimney stack during an attempted landing.
Another famous tragedy was that of Sophie Blanchard, the wife of balloonist Jean-Pierre Blanchard. After his death she continued ballooning, making over 60 ascents. However in 1819 her luck ran out. During an exhibition over the Tivoli Gardens in Paris, the fireworks she was letting off ignited the hydrogen. Her balloon crashed onto the roof of a house and she fell to her death.
Another English balloonist, Thomas Harris, died in 1824.  He was trying out a new safety mechanism: a gas discharge valve intended to quickly deflate the balloon and thus prevent the balloon from dragging the car (basket) and its passengers on landing. Theories differ on how it happened, but the valve must have discharged prematurely, setting the balloon plunging. Thomas Harris was killed but his companion, Sophia Stocks, survived. According to one account (possibly romanticized), Harris jumped out early to lighten the balloon and thus save Sophia’s life.
So now I leave it to you to guess which of these perils might threaten my balloonist hero.
And now congratulations to librarypat! You have won an ebook of your choice from my titles. Please email me at elena @ elenagreene.com (no spaces) and let me know which book and format you’d like.
Elena

I read in many genres, but one thing that stays consistent throughout all the genres I read is that I like there to be many, many dark moments.

I like it when I read something and I get that scared whoosh in the pit of my stomach as one of the book’s characters does or says something that moves them irrevocably towards a terrible end (although it’s not irrevocable, is it, since this is a romance, and we have an HEA. But at that moment it seems irrevocable).

I think that’s why I like Mary Balogh so much; her dark moments are so agonizingly painful for one or both of the characters. It’s too easy, as a writer, to want to keep things easy for your characters; after all, you created them, you like them, and they feel like friends (not to be all woo-woo, but that’s how I feel, at least).

But as writers, we have to make things difficult, or the ultimate payoff won’t be as sweet.
Some of my favorite authors–Anne Stuart, Stacia Kane, Karen Marie Moning, George R.R. Martin (still waiting for the payoff there), our own Carolyn Jewel, Brent Weeks–are amazing at tearing their characters apart as they try to reach some form of happiness.

Do you like the superdark moments in books? Which authors do it the best?

Megan

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 2 Replies

I received the author copies of A Not So Reputable Gentleman? last Friday, and there is nothing like seeing the book in its tangible form. Even ebook-Kindle-loving me savors holding the book in my hands and flipping through its pages.

I’ll do an “official” introduction to the book near its release date of July 24, but revisiting the book after several months reminded me of some of the essential elements of the story.

My hero and heroine were secretly betrothed before the book begins. Secret betrothals, while favored in fiction (e.g. Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele in Sense and Sensibility; Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax in Emma), were frowned upon in the real Regency world. In fact, it was considered a serious moral lapse.

Unmarried men and women in society were not permitted to be alone together and were expected to meet only in carefully chaperoned circumstances, like balls and other society parties.

Before a betrothal, young men and women were forbidden to use each other’s Christian names. They could not correspond by letters. They could not exchange gifts. They could not touch in any kind of intimate way and certainly could not kiss.

My hero and heroine had broken nearly all these taboos, although they, of course, considered themselves betrothed. In public, however, any show of particular attention or lapse of correct behavior would have given them away. Society was quick to assume a serious attachment on any sign of particular attention between a couple.

A secret engagement typically meant that there were reasons parents would not approve of the match. During the Regency a parent’s approval was expected if the child was under 21 years of age. Parents naturally wished for socially and financially secure marriages for their children. At the time of my book’s beginning, my hero was neither financially secure or socially acceptable.

By the 1800s a betrothal became more of a gentleman’s word than a contract between families. Even though suing for breach of contract was no longer the norm, a gentleman was expected to keep his word if he asked a woman to marry. A gentleman was disgraced if he broke an engagement and his fiancee was considered damaged goods. The lady was the only one who could “cry off” but then she was considered a jilt.

This, of course, makes great fodder for Regency Romance Novels. In reality, it is what led Wellington to marry Kitty Pakenham. When Kitty had been young and vivacious Wellington had courted her, but his suit was not accepted by her family. When he returned from India, Kitty had become pale and sickly, but Wellington realized that she had considered them betrothed all that time. He felt duty-bound to marry her as a result.

A secret betrothal held no such protections for the couple. By its secrecy, words–and hearts–could be broken without any social cost, although the emotional cost could be enormous.

In matters of marriage, the Regency was, like in so many areas, a time of change. In the 17th and 18th century society marriages were arranged by the parents and were secured for financial gain or rise in social status. By the Regency, couples wished to marry for love. Some blamed this foolish notion on the reading of novels.

Do you like secret betrothals in Regency romances? What about arranged marriages?

If you would like a chance to win a copy of A Not So Reputable Gentleman?, enter my part of the Harlequin Historical Authors Summer Beach Bag Giveaway. For more chances at other prizes and the grand prize of a Kindle Fire, enter daily. See details here.

So last week I mentioned I was reading Amor Towles’s Rules of Civility, and there were some comments about how beautiful the cover of this book is.  I decided I had to share it here since a) The cover really is totally gorgeous (and was what grabbed my attention in the first place) and b) The book itself was so amazingly good.  I read it in a couple of days and wanted it to go on longer.

It’s set in 1937, and has a very Fitzgerald-y feeling to the prose (one reviewer called it a “throwback” novel, which it is in the best sense of the word–very atmospheric, full of characters doing glamorous things with a dark underpinning and having witty conversations).  It opens in 1937, among the upper society of New York City, and is narrated by Katy Kontent, a young woman working in publishing and pulling herself up from a lower-class Russian Brighton Beach upbringing.  She and her friend Eve, out carousing in jazz clubs on New Year’s Eve, meet a handsome young banker named Tinker Gray, you think the story is heading one way, then–well, it doesn’t.  It’s almost Regency-esque in its complicated and detailed view of a very specific world.  I loved it.

I am always looking for books set in the 1920s and 1930s, such a rich setting that isn’t seen much in romance (though I think it definitely should be!).  I did one Undone short story set in the ’20s,The Girl in the Beaded Mask, and I would love to do more…

Right now I’ve started reading Sadie Jones’s The Uninvited Guests, since I’m still in a 1930s mood.  What have you been reading lately?  Do you like books set in this time period??

Well, it’s been quite a week with the great kitchen remodel and the emergency appendectomy Kelly performed, one of my many and valid reasons for going MIA last week. Thanks, Kelly, great job! How I laughed when you asked if you should wash your hands first.

Another thing that did happen last week was that my parents’ musical instruments, a cello (detail here), a couple of violins and some bows were auctioned off. It was sad because we have no string players in the family who could have inherited them, and these instruments were much loved by them. One of my earliest memories is of going to sleep listening to my dad play.

But it was also fascinating because my dad’s violin turned out to be the star of the show. And I didn’t even have to email in bids to keep the bidding going. Even though the auctioneer believed it to be a fake and thus predicted a low sell price, two bidders got into a bidding war over the violin, described as  

Violin labelled Tho. Perry & W M Wilkinson…no. 4906, Dublin 1830, no. 4906 branded on the button and branded Perry Dublin below the button.

My dad believed it to be a late nineteenth century French instrument. If it had been a fake, chances are it would have been German. But if it was really what it said it was, then the bidding war was justified. Thomas Perry (1744-1818) was in fact one of the great British violin makers of the late Georgian period who made 3,000 or 4,000 instruments (or 4,906; estimates vary) characterized by a typical rich, warm and focussed sound (grantviolins.com.au). But it’s mysterious. After Perry’s death, WM Wilkinson, his son in law, carried on the business capitalizing on Perry’s name and reputation.

Much has been made of the fact that although Perry’s firm apparently continued to trade as ‘Perry and Wilkinson’ after 1818, Perry and Wilkinson were probably never in partnership, though William Wilkinson married Perry’s daughter. The general view is that standards declined after 1818: ‘a lamentable falling-off in workmanship, modelling and tone’ (Henley). A fairer picture is perhaps that quality became much more variable. Some good work was produced from this workshop but owing to labelling problems it is not always clear what was sold after 1818 but made under Perry’s direction beforehand. From: “The Violin Family and its Makers in the British Isles” by Brian W. Harvey, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995; pp183-185. Quoted at fiddleforum.com

But if you were going to fake an instrument wouldn’t it make more sense to attribute it to the period of Perry’s lifetime?

Perry was probably of French Huguenot descent, hence the French connection, related to a Parisian instrument maker called Claude Pierray. He worked in Dublin in Temple Bar, moving to this location on Anglesea Street in 1787. Maybe my father’s family had owned the violin all along, since they came from Dublin, but more likely his father, an inveterate auction goer himself, had picked it up for a song. He probably would have approved of last week’s sale.

I’ve never attended a live auction. How about you? Do you own any family treasures?

Follow
Get every new post delivered to your inbox
Join millions of other followers
Powered By WPFruits.com