First of all, I’m sorry for the lack of pretty graphics to go with this post! For the past two weeks, blogger has decided not to like for me to download things (actually, I think it may be my ancient computer!). Next week a computer geek friend is coming over to help me work on it, so hopefully next Saturday we will be good to go again. In the meantime, we will just have to imagine! 🙂

I’ve been researching a new story idea while I wait on various project floating around out there, one in which the heroine is a Russian ballerina in 1890. As usual, I’ve gotten a little sidetracked in my research meanderings, and wasted a great deal of time reading various books and visiting various websites. One book I’m enjoying is Orlando Figes’ Natasha’s Dance: A Cultural History of Russia. It’s a massive volume, and I’ve only read bits of it, but there is a whole section titled “Children of 1812” which details the effects of the conflict with the French on Russian society and culture. Since this fits in with “our” period, I decided to kill two birds with one research stone and talk about this here a bit (then my reading is not in vain, LOL!)

Figes says “As readers of War and Peace will know, the war of 1812 was a vital watershed in the culture of the Russian aristocracy.” French was the language used at court and in the cities; French culture had been emulated since the days of Peter the Great and had become ingrained in the fabric of aristocratic life. Now suddenly the French were the ENEMY! To be “Russian” was suddenly in vogue. The use of French, so long de riguer, was frowned on in St. Petersburg salons (Tolstoy’s novel also captures the spirit of this time, when nobles brought up to think and speak in Frencg suddenly struggled with their native tongue). In the 18th century, French was considered the sphere of “thought and sentiment” and Russian of “daily life” (i.e. men used Russian in dealing with serfs and middle-class businessmen; court and city life were for French). Girls, unlike their brothers, would not have much business with serfs and merchants, and were thus less likely to be taught to write Russian script (though I’m sure they would have spoken it, at least some). By the early 19th century, this was changing. Bilingual was the norm; letters would often switch back and forth, even in the same sentence, and even women could write it (Tolstoy’s mother Maria, for example, even wrote poems in Russian).

Native Russian foods and crafts also came into style. For example, Count Alexander Osterman-Tolstoy (a military hero of 1812) had a great mansion in St. Petersburg, with the reception rooms decorated with marble and mirrors, and a bedroom lined with rough wooden logs to look like a peasant hut. Dances like the pliaska were added to the round of waltzes and minuets. Princess Elena Golitsyn said “Nobody had taught me how to dance the pliaska. It was simply that I was a Russian girl.” (Amanda’s note–well, my family is Irish, and I doubt I could suddenly just jump up and do a jig. I’m just saying).

Country houses, or dachas, were now a must-have. They were constructed in a simple Russian style, two stories, made of wood, surrounded by a mezzanine veranda, with ornate window and doorframe carvings in Russian motifs. There the city-escapees picked mushrooms in the woods, made jam, drank tea from samovars, fished, hunted, visited the bathhouse, etc. Back in town, ladies started appearing at balls and receptions in native dress–the sarafan tunic and kokoshnik head-dress, for example. Peasant shawls were the new trend, replacing Indian imports. They were made in bustling serf workshops. The “natural look”–cotton gowns, simple hairstyles, pale complexions, and lighter perfumes were in (Tatiana in Pushkin’s famous poem Eugene Onegin personified this new natural woman).

Pushkin also used Russian songs and tales in hsi work, and he was a serious student of folk traditions–Ruslan and Ludmila, Tsar Saltan, The Golden Cockerel all derived from folktales. By Pushkin’s death in 1837, the literary and musical use of folk tales and motifs was common. The Collection of Russian Folk Tales (1790) was an instant hit. Beethoven used two songs from the collection in his “Razumovsky” quartets (1805), including the “Slava (Glory)” chorus, later used by Mussorgsky in the coronation scene of Boris Godunov. It was originally a sviatochnaya, a folk song used by Russian girls in divination games at New Year’s. This simple tune became a national chorus in 1812.

I admit to being something of a Russophile, so I hope I haven’t bored you with all this info! Hopefully it was kind of interesting to glimpse a culture of the Regency period so far from England. And I’m going to have to echo Megan’s question here, because I need to find out–would you find a Russian heroine interesting??? What about paranormal elements that derive from Russian folktales? What are some other cultures you would like to see more of in novels?

I am currently in the midst of writing a proposal to send to my agent. A proposal, for those of you not aware (as I was not until Carolyn Jewel told me this past summer. And I think I’m so smart.), is the first three chapters and synopsis for a proposed book.

In other words, I don’t have to actually WRITE the entire book in order to get it sold. How cool is that?!?

Of course it means I have to write the synopsis, which is agony for another day.

But meanwhile, I am actually doing RESEARCH, another first for me, as those of you who read A Singular Lady know (there’s definitely some wrong stuff in there). My hero this time around is an opium addict, although he’ll start to kick by the end of Chapter Three, or else it wouldn’t be much of a romance–kinda more like Hunter S. Thompson goes to ton.

So I’ve gotten quite a few books out of the library, so many I hope no-one’s monitoring me, or I’d definitely be tagged as suspicious. The most useful one thus far is In The Arms of Morpheus: The Tragic History of Laudanum, Morphine, and Patent Medicines by Barbara Hodgson. I just got Opium: A History by Martin Booth, which Jo Beverley cites in the author’s note of her latest release, To Rescue A Rogue, which also features an opium addict (and here I thought I was being so innovative! But my hero is scads different from hers, so hopefully it won’t be walking over the same romantic ground). Of course I have Thomas De Quincey‘s Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, but his writing is so hyperbolic it’s not so informative. Samuel Taylor Coleridge‘s poem “Kubla Khan” was supposedly written under the influence, as was Christina Rossetti‘s Goblin Market, which is gorgeously illustrated by her brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Addiction to laudanum was not disgraceful, especially for the upper class. The Prince Regent was addicted, and several other famous personages of the time used laudanum frequently. Laudanum was cheap, too, so poor people could obtain it easily. The most heinous thing about its use at this time is that opium was an ingredient in several children’s elixirs, guaranteed to soothe the fretful child. There were many deaths attributed to over-medicating.

Opium affects the brain in powerful, immediate ways, so it is very easy to get addicted quickly, and very hard to stop taking it. I am reading Jo Beverley’s book now, and she does a fantastic job of explaining how hard it is to get off it: Imagine wanting the best chocolate chip cookie ever, and you haven’t eaten all day, and you have to deny yourself the pleasure of eating it. And then magnify that by 1,000 times. That’s what it seems to be like to be addicted to opium.

My wonder is that more people weren’t addicted back then, given its availability and lack of social stigma.

And my questions are: Would you find an addicted hero sympathetic? What about an addicted heroine (mine isn’t)? Have you found anything out about the Regency period (such as what I discovered about the children’s elixirs) that startled you?

Megan
www.meganframpton.com

Nothing–directly–to do with the Regency, but what else is new. We all posted our beach reads a couple of months ago, and although I haven’t been near a beach I have read, actually re-read, one of the books I listed–Our Mutual Friend by Dickens. His last published book, it was published in installments, and I suspect he was pretty much a pantser. The Penguin Classics edition has his chapter by chapter notes, and he takes some astonishing liberties with his plot. He introduces new characters one third of the way through a book already crowded with a cast of dozens. There’s one character who has a long, introspective monologue telling you a key plot point that none of the other characters know, something that made me grit my teeth and mutter “Not fair! No one else could get away with it.” True, because no one else writes like Dickens. No one else breaks the rules with such flair and chutzpah and good humor.

Another “writerly” thing–using setting as characters. This book is haunted by two very strong, atmospheric settings–the river Thames, both a destroyer and a means of rebirth, and the mysterious Dust Heaps that produced a fortune for their owner. What’s in the Dust Heaps? Good question. Secrets and, probably, excrement. It’s possible to go way overboard on Freudian/Marxist interpretations of what OMF is about, so I’ll desist. But one of its themes is about the effect of money–too much, too little–and what it does to people.

But what struck me most about OMF was how much I wanted the female characters to be different. It’s a complex plot, and there are two heroines. One, Bella Wilfer, has a scene that reminded me a little of Anne Elliot’s declaration in Persuasion, where she publicly states that she loves the man she once rejected, even if he no longer cares for her. Anne’s declaration is understood only by Wentworth, and it comes from hard-won self-knowledge and trust in her own feelings. Bella’s is equally impassioned and sincere, but she’s been manipulated into it by a male character, her patron Mr. Boffins (who has inherited the Dust Heaps)–who does it entirely because he cares about her. So she goes from being an infantilized daughter to the wife of another man who then deceives her–in the most playful, charming, kind way–as to the extent of his real wealth.

The other main female character, Lizzie, is interesting because she’s working-class and as sexual a female being as Dickens ever wrote about. How he does it is interesting–by omission, mostly, but it works. She’s pursued by an upper class, wealthy man whose intentions may or may not be honorable–he doesn’t even know himself. You’d think a woman who rowed a boat on the river while her father dredges up corpses could handle this situation–heck, even the genteel Lizzie Bennett could and did. But no, she too has a male mentor, another father figure, who tells her that she isn’t strong enough to withstand the gentleman’s advances, and advises her to flee.

It’s interesting that Jane Austen, with her stalwart, principled heroines, was read as widely as Dickens. So were those other proponents of strong, passionate female characters, the Brontes and George Eliot. Why? Because Dickens delivers. Even a troubling book like OMF has so much–wonderfully named characters, sympathetic and grotesque, and usually both; scenes of melting tenderness and silly comedy–oh goodness, I’m going to say all human life is there, but it’s true. It must have been fifteen years since I read this last, but the good bits are still good. Dickens is the consummate storyteller, the puppeteer pulling the strings of his characters and his readers.

So what’s your favorite Dickens book/tv or movie adaptation?

Congratulations to jennybrat, who has won a copy of Candice Hern’s IN THE THRILL OF THE NIGHT. Please send your snail mail address to egreene@stny.rr.com to receive your prize.

Thanks to all who visited during our interview with Candice, and to Candice for sharing her stories and fabulous collections with us!

The Riskies

In one week, on Tuesday September 26, is the Gamester Contest!!! Just leave a comment on that day’s Risky Regencies post talking about MY LADY GAMESTER, and be entered to win!

To learn about the great prizes (including an eighty-page, lavishly illustrated Pride & Prejudice “FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION” Book, a biography of the Prince Regent, and a souvenir guidebook from the Bath Assembly Rooms & Museum of Costume) or to read the complete rules, click here.

Remember — your comments don’t have to be flattering. They don’t have to be clever, or witty, or insightful. They just have to reflect what you really thought about the book.

Now for today’s question: what book was so wonderful that you couldn’t put it down? What book do you reread frequently, or tell your friends “you have to read this!” What book makes you ask “How does she do that?” or “Why can’t every book be like this?”

Or is there a whole series, or an author, that excites you that way? Or more than one author? Please share!

All opinions welcome!

Cara
Cara King — author of MY LADY GAMESTER
Booksellers’ Best Award for Best Regency of 2005