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Author Archives: Janet Mullany


What are your favorite opening lines? What makes the opening sentence of a book compel you to read on, and do you think those all-important first words should shout or whisper? Here are some of mine:

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe), on a Friday at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (and I’ve raved before on this very blog about the wonderful stark simplicity of this sentence, but I have to throw it in again. Truly, less is more!)
There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (look! She’s writing in iambic pentameters!)
Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again.

Fast Women by Jennifer Crusie
The man behind the cluttered desk looked like the devil, and Nell Dysart considered that was par for her course since she’d been going to hell for a year and a half anyway.

Emma by Jane Austen–a masterly portrait of a heroine cruising for a bruising, but I can’t figure out how or why!
Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

Finally, to clear the literary palate, the opening line of Paul Clifford by Edward George Bulwer-Lytton (an example of more being less):
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents–except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

(and a reminder, by the way that the official deadline for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is April 15, only two days away!)

You are hereby invited to share your favorites!

Are Lizzie Bennett’s fine eyes or Miss Woodhouse’s delicate complexion more than a fortuitous gift of Nature? What weapons did the Regency lady have in her cosmetic arsenal?

More than you might think. Some–hair pomades made of pork fat and scented with essential oils–are not the sort of things you’d want to read, write, or even think about. The white foundation used by the former generation was lead-based and could ruin a woman’s complexion, if not kill her. The companion red for the clown look so popular then was mostly harmless, but could be expensive, made of safflower, cochineal, brazilwood, or sandalwood.

Favorite scents, for soap, lotions, and face-washes, included many ingredients we’d associate nowadays with cooking–cinnamon, cloves, citrus, cardamom–as well as amber, musk, violet, rose, linden flowers, and elder. No, I have no idea what elder smelled like!

It’s possible to make your own skincare potions with ingredients found in the kitchen–here are a couple I’ve actually tried.

Cleanser:
Grind up oatmeal in a food processor, add some honey (this is all to taste, I don’t measure this sort of thing). You might even want to heat it slightly. Massage into face. Rinse off.

Toner:
Rosewater (you can buy it at an Indian grocery store) beaten into one egg white. Let dry on face, rinse off.

And here’s one I haven’t tried, but it has a beautiful name–Queen of Hungary Water–and I intend to make some (when the mint is obliging enough to emerge and I can borrow some rose petals and lavender from my neighbors). I will post before and after pictures. It’s recommended as an astringent, aftershave, deodorant, hair and skin tonic and even as an inhaled headache remedy:

1 part roses
1 part lavender
1 part rosemary
1 part sage
1 part orange peel
1 part lemon peel
2 parts mint
To 2 ounces apple cider vinegar, add 2 ounces of the above herbal formula. Put in an airtight glass jar, let steep for about 2 weeks. Strain and add 1 1/2 cups pure distilled rosewater. Pour into an airtight decanter and use daily.

Go to this site, http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Prairie/8088/skin.html for more of the same. And do you have anything in the kitchen you enjoy slathering onto your face (other than accidental chocolate and ice cream smearage?)

Janet

So here I was tearing out my hair. February 21 is not a particularly auspicious day when it comes to exciting births, deaths, or events. So I thought I’d go and look up some newspapers for February 21, 1813. After a spectacular fail at a site where I would have had to pay, I found that, joy of joys, The Georgian Newspaper Project is once again online, with archives 1770-1800 of The Bath Chronicle. Or maybe it always has been and I’d mislaid it. Thank you, thank you, to all the volunteers who put this together.

455553I had a quick look to see what was going on in February in Bath in various years. Some of it was the stuff of scandal–look at this from February 8, 1770: Finance: Robert Yeeles of Longdean, Wilts repudiates liabilities of his wife Mary Yeeles, from date of advert. She has eloped & is not to be trusted.

The city was a hotbed of crime. This, and most of the examples below are from February 2, 1786. I think this is interesting because of the variety of fancy goods available in one shop. Crime: robberies – from Wm Moore’s shop, Orange Grove, Bath. Shell inkstand mounted in silver & 2 silver pens (12 months ago); pearl jessamine fancy pin – value 4 guin (1 month ago); 4′ 6″ oilcloth umbrella (on 22 Feb). Reward 5 guin each item on recovery & conviction, or 2 guin/ea if being pawned or sold.

Then there’s the case of the great horse exchange. While robbers looted Mr. Moore’s shop, criminals roamed the countryside. Crime: horse theft – iron grey gelding stolen on 30 Jan, the property John Brittan, Dyrham, Gloucs. Reward for information leading to conviction from John Brittan of 1 guin over amount allowed by Act of Parliament. But on the same day, this notice was posted: Notices: abandoned horse – brown mare left in field where iron grey gelding removed (property of John Brittan, Dyrham). Owner requested to reclaim.

While in Bath, you’d probably order tea, coffee and candles (tea and coffee, yes, but candles in the same shop?) from Coles tea warehouse. Goods: fine fresh teas, Coles tea warehouse, 7 Northgate St, Bath. 16 varieties tea. Best Bohea 2s, Congou leaf 2s 6d, Congou tea 3s, very good do 4s, very good Souchong 5s, v fine do 6s, superfine do 7s, fine green 3s 6d, fine single 4s 6d, v fine do 5s. But another ad mentions imported cowslip flavour 10s. That surprised me. Although you’d expect to find herbal teas for medicinal use, you wouldn’t expect to find them in a tea and coffee (and candles) store. Cowslip tea’s main use is as a sedative. And imported from where? It’s native to England.

More luxury goods. I almost feel sorry I’m two centuries late for this sale: Fashion: sale of silks by James & Peter Ferry, retiring silk weavers & mercers, cnr Gallaway’s Bldgs, Bath. Remainder of stock at a quarter less than any shop or warehouse in England, includes crepes & bombasines.

Posh arrivals to Bath were announced in the newspaper. Visitors: arrivals in Bath – Hon Mr Williams [no other titled people], Admiral Collins. Sometimes “no other titled people” was shortened to NOTP.

The fashionable churches demanded reservations: Churches: Octogon Chapel – no access to pews for visitors unless seats reserved via clerk, Mr Bullman at Mr Herschel’s in New King St, Bath; or at vestry 1 hr before services on Sundays, Wednesdays & Fridays. And yes, that is Mr. William Herschel, organist, composer, and astronomer whose house on New King Street is now a museum.

_41353654_bath_chron203And if you wanted to leave the city of luxury and pleasure, you’d turn to the newspaper: Travel: coaches Bath to London, summary – a) Bristol & Bath mailcoach from Three Tuns at 5.30pm; b) coach from Lamb Inn at 4pm; c) coach from Three Tuns & Lamb Inns at 4am. Inside passengers only £1 10s. Perfomed Willimas & Co Bath, Wilson & Co London.

I love this stuff! What do you think the story is behind the eloping Mrs. Yeeles or the great horse exchange?

Posted in Research | 5 Replies

The boddynge flourettes bloshes atte the lyghte;
The mees be sprenged wyth the yellowe hue;
Ynn daiseyd mantels ys the mountayne dyghte;
The nesh yonge coweslepe bendethe wyth the dewe;
The trees enlefed, yntoe Heavenne straughte,
Whenn gentle wyndes doe blowe to whestlyng dynne ys broughte.

Thomas Chatterton, the anguished teenage poet, was one of the great fakers of the Romantic period–his short-lived and unsuccessful career, which started with him faking medieval poetry, ended with his suicide in an attic at the tender age of eighteen.

And plagiarization is something fiction writers are too often accused of…after all, all regencies are about fresh-faced ingenues and rakes, right?…aren’t they? Even though academic story analyses have proposed that all story-telling is derivative, and derive from a handful of basic plots, it’s something we are accused of far too often.

As a living example of how different writers can take a simple plot premise and work it into something different, visit Diana Peterfreund’s Great Blog Voice Experiment. Diana invited twelve writers for their contribution, and each is different and interesting. Why? It’s a question of individual imagination and individual voice–whatever voice is. It’s one of those difficult-to-define elements that distinguishes a writer’s work, and I hold the theory that the stronger the voice, the more extreme the reader’s reaction.

Can you define voice? Which writers have a strong voice, and what do you like/dislike about their work?

Janet

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 5 Replies
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