Posts Tagged ‘musings’

A women’s detective agency? Why?

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012

Hello, friends! I’m guest-blogging this week at Bites, where Donna asked me why I chose to write about a women’s detective agency in Victorian London. The short answer? I love bright and shiny anachronisms. The longer answer is here.

And did you know that this coming week, May 5 – May 12, is Canadian Children’s Book Week? In celebration of children’s books, my friends at Young Kingston have organized a group signing at Novel Idea Books on Sunday, May 6. I’ll be there from 3 to 4 with the award-winning Ann-Maureen Owens. Hope to see you there!

Bookmark and Share

Night shift

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

Hello, friends. I have a confession to make: I’ve always been quite a prima donna when it comes to writing time. When I was childless, I needed three-hour blocks of uninterrupted writing time, minimum, to feel that I was making progress on a manuscript. When we had a baby, that shrank to two hours – still a lot to ask, but with the support of my superstar spouse, we made that happen.

And now we have 2 children. The elder goes to preschool, part-time. The (new) baby is never more than a few metres from me, day and night. Basically, the I-must-have-privacy-and-silence-and-a-warmup-ritual-that-involves-freshly-ground-french-pressed-coffee thing is, um, not working out.

Instead, I’m learning to write like thousands (tens of thousands? gazillions? pity no one measures these things) of women have before me: in unpredictable increments that sometimes pop up when I least expect them. For example, last week I dropped off our son at preschool and the baby fell asleep in the car on the way home. I sprinted into the house, grabbed my laptop, hopped into the passenger seat, and wrote until she woke up. The tally? 800 words in 45 minutes. Yes, I’m still feeling mighty smug about that one.

Obviously, that’s a best-case scenario and it certainly doesn’t happen every time I open the laptop. I still have writing sessions where I fiddle with a single paragraph for 20 minutes, or worse yet, check email obsessively and write half a (bad) sentence. But I’m learning.

The other thing that’s changing is when I write. Now, a few evenings a week after the kids are asleep, I ignore the rest of my life (the dishes, the half-read novel, my lovely husband) and focus. I usually log in to Twitter and propose a writing sprint to anyone who’s kicking around. And off I go.

It’s messy and inconvenient and fundamentally at odds with my circadian rhythm (I’m one of those people who likes to go to bed at 10), but it’s working. Mostly. And whenever I feel particularly low about my word count, I think about one of my favourite Victorian novelists, Wilkie Collins, who was a consummate procrastinator.

When Collins was in the middle of a serial novel (a novel published in a magazine in many instalments), he would turn up at the offices of the magazine on the day of the printer’s deadline. There, he would finally sit down and write. As he finished each page, someone would run that sheet of paper down to the printer’s offices, where they would typeset it and finally print it.

It makes me feel queasy just thinking about it.

How do you write? Are you a Collins-esque procrastinator, or a marvel of efficiency?

Bookmark and Share

Your life, 150 years ago

Wednesday, March 14th, 2012

Hello, friends! I’m guest-blogging this week over at Turn the Page where, to mark International Women’s Day (March 8), Amy asked me to write about women in Victorian times. Here goes:

It’s 1862. You’re a sixteen-year-old girl. What are your choices like in Victorian England? Click here to read the full essay.

Bookmark and Share

What made you a reader?

Wednesday, February 22nd, 2012

Hello, friends. This week, a local journalist, Hollie Pratt Campbell, interviewed me. In the course of our conversation, Hollie said that while she now reads mostly adult books, it was Young Adult fiction that made her a reader; that really stirred her love of books, as a younger reader.

I was thinking about why that’s the case, and I suspect it’s to do with the importance of story in young people’s lit. Young readers don’t read primarily for gorgeous prose, elaborate narrative structure, or postmodern wit. (Which is not to say that they don’t appreciate all those things; they can be sophisticated readers.) But before all else, they want a fully developed story with complex characters and a conflict that gets resolved.

There’s a purity to writing for kids that’s incredibly satisfying, precisely because of these elements. As an adult, I too enjoy the quest. I want to solve the problem; I long to overcome the challenge. When life is messy and ambiguous, it’s a relief to pull things together neatly in a plot.

The plot, however, is just the hook. What remains for me are the characters and their specific struggles. If I think about the books that made me a reader, I think of the Murry family, in Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quartet – loving, often separated, intrepid. Emily Starr, the idealistic, lonely, aspiring writer created by L. M Montgomery. Even the Naughtiest Girl, a spoiled brat who’s determined to be expelled from her boarding school, yet comes to belong there (it’s a series by Enid Blyton).

What do you read for – plot, characters, something else? And what are the books that made you a reader?

Bookmark and Share

We are all Jane Austen

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012

Hello, friends! This week, I saw an interesting conversation develop about Jane Austen, race, and feminism. It started at Reading in Color, when Ari asked, “Is Jane Austen only for white people?” Sayantani at Stories are Good Medicine picked up the conversation and posed the logical follow-up question: “Can feminists dig Darcy?” There were loads of interesting observations in the comments at Reading in Color, and my intention here isn’t to rehearse those dialogues or respond to each one. But I was struck by the questions and want to talk a bit about how they sound to me.

To my ear, at least, each question can be flipped around and made more general:

Should everything I read as a woman of colour include characters of colour?

Should everything I read as a feminist be overtly progressive?

In sum, should we create a world of books that reflects our own world views and positions?

It’s certainly important to see ourselves – our own kind of people, whether we’re talking race or creed – reflected in our literature. It creates a sense of community, assists us in defining ourselves more clearly, helps us to look critically at our own strengths and shortcomings.

But at the same time, what a wilfully small world that would be. Can you imagine how limited our interests, imaginations, interests, and conversations would be, if that were the case? How unable we’d be to imagine another point of view, or follow an argument that didn’t relate directly to our own interests? How would we learn new things? How could we admire – and borrow – streaks of brilliance that we didn’t create?

We must read widely, read deeply, and read well outside our comfort zones if we’re to learn and grow. And if we enjoy what we read – if we absolutely adore what we discover – so much the better.

I’d also argue that when we make assumptions about the homogeneity or reactionary nature of Jane Austen’s (or anyone else’s) world, we’re limiting ourselves as much as we are them. People assume all the time that Victorian London was lily-white, with a clear-cut and never-changing social order. The reality is much more complex, as I try to show in the Agency novels.

Finally, isn’t it interesting that we don’t have to give our beloved Jane Austen a special get-out-of-jail-free card? Think about the lesson at the heart of her most-adapted novel, Pride and Prejudice. It is, at core, a novel about humility: 1) not presuming yourself superior to another group of people (in Darcy’s case, the Bennet family), and 2) being able to retract your hasty judgement of someone based on hearsay (in Elizabeth’s case, Darcy). That’s a fine message for any progressive book to carry – whoever the author.

Are you an Austenite? What have you learned from Jane Austen – or another favourite author?

Other bits from this past week:

On the same day I received my finished copies of Traitor, I heard on Twitter that They Are About – as in, already on sale in some places! One reader in Texas and another in Kentucky have already read the real deal. This is so exciting.

This review from Forever YA is the funniest review I’ve ever read about one of my own books.

And here’s a terrific podcast about the Plimsoll line, which has a small but important role in the plot of A Spy in the House. Thank you, MrsFridayNext, for sharing it with me!

Bookmark and Share

A very modern Victorian

Wednesday, February 8th, 2012

Hello friends! This week, I’m writing a series of short essays for my Traitor in the Tunnel blog tour, which starts at the end of this month. The tour will feature some of my favourite YA bloggers, including the Story Siren, I Swim for Oceans, the Booksmugglers, Reading in Color, Steph Su Reads, and the Bookmonsters. Hurray!

My theme for this blog tour is Victorian Obsessions and some of my research for it led me to a series of poems I haven’t thought about since I was a PhD student: Modern Love, by George Meredith. Modern Love is actually a sonnet sequence – a chain of fifty connected poems, each with the same rhyme scheme and all on the same subject.

That’s already ambitious. Yet Meredith goes further. Most sonnet sequences are about love – the development of a romance, the triumph of true love, pure and passionate. But Meredith turns this around completely, because Modern Love is about the breakdown of a marriage; his own marriage. Here’s the first 16-line sonnet, “By this he knew she wept with waking eyes”:

By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand’s light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gasping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep’s heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.

This sonnet blows me away every time I read it. It’s ruthless and violent, fiercely radical and brutally effective. I’d never guess that it was written in 1862; to me, it sounds more like 1962. And it’s a great reminder – especially to me, since I’m now writing about “the Victorians” and invariably generalizing a bit – that every era has its startling exceptions.

What do you think of the poem? Are there other exceptions (Victorian or otherwise) that it calls to mind?

As well as a blog tour, I’ll be having a launch party in Kingston to celebrate the publication of Traitor. Hurrah! The details:

Saturday, March 3, 2012, from 3 to 5 pm

Novel Idea Books, 156 Princess St, Kingston

If you’re local, I’d love to see you there!

 

Bookmark and Share

Year of the Ox

Wednesday, January 25th, 2012

Hello friends, and Happy New Year! Are you celebrating the Lunar New Year and if so, how? At my house, we’re feeling casual this year: a family dinner, a few little gifts, nothing extravagant. The Year of the Dragon will be busy and adventurous for us, I can feel it.

You probably know what your animal sign is (calculator here, if you don’t), and wikipedia does a reasonable job of summarizing each animal’s characteristics. Although I have only a passing curiosity in astrology, I began to wonder what zodiac animal Mary Quinn is. Although her precise date of birth is unknown, she was born in 1841, making her an Ox. (Probably. If she was born before January 25, 1841, though, she’d be a Rat.)

So if you’re a believer in Chinese astrology, you’d say that Mary Quinn should be “dependable, ambitious, calm, methodical, born leader, patient, hardworking, conventional, steady, modest, logical, resolute, and tenacious. Can be stubborn, dogmatic, hot-tempered, narrow-minded, materialistic, rigid, and demanding” (description from wikipedia). Hm. I don’t see “impatient” in that list of traits…

As for James Easton, he was born in the summer of 1839, making him a Pig. (Mary could have told you that the first time they met, right?) Apparently, pigs are “honest, gallant, sturdy, sociable, peace-loving, patient, loyal, hard-working, trusting, sincere, calm, understanding, thoughtful, scrupulous, passionate, and intelligent. Can be naïve, over-reliant, self-indulgent, gullible, fatalistic, and materialistic.” Again, the description misses one of James’s main characteristics: arrogance. Tsk, tsk.

What’s your astrological sign, and how accurate do you think it is?

Bookmark and Share

The Great Purge

Wednesday, December 21st, 2011

In a perfect world, I would never discard books. I would save the ones I no longer wanted until just the right person walked into my life, and I could gift them the ideal book for their needs in that moment. (Maybe I’m a librarian manqué…)

In this world, however, we have six bookcases and they are crammed. There are stacks of books on the piano. There are more in the bedroom. There are yet more in the living room, and have I mentioned the study, the bathroom (repository of magazines), and the kids’ room? It’s time to purge.

Happily, books have more lives than cats. A few of mine will go to friends and neighbours. Most will go to my local library’s Neverending Book Sale, which fundraises for the library. But still, it hurts.

I love paper books because they contain powerful memories of when I acquired them (I’ll never part with the first book my husband ever gave me – Middlemarch – although I have 2 other editions of the same book), my priorities at the time (a hideous and battered 1970s paperback copy of The French Lieutenant’s Woman reminds me how tight my budget was as I began my fourth year as an undergrad), and where I read them (a train ticket from Manchester to London is a bookmark that reminds me of what I was reading on our last trip to England).

Some books are easier to shed: literary theory that I held on to, because I couldn’t quite believe I’d escaped the academy; books I haven’t thought about in years; books I know I’ve read but whose content has leaked from my brain. But for the most part, getting rid of books feels like an eviction. I hope the little darlings (even the ones I disliked and disrespected) don’t take it personally. And I hope they find new homes soon. But they’ve got to go.

How do you manage your book collections? And how do you feel about getting rid of books?

Bookmark and Share

Pop! Goes the Weasel

Wednesday, November 23rd, 2011

A few nights ago, I lay awake in bed thinking about the lyrics to “Pop! Goes the Weasel”. (Authors do not lead the lives of rock stars, know what I mean?) My son’s been singing the North American version at preschool:

All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel.

The monkey thought it was all in fun,

Pop! goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread,

A penny for a needle,

That’s the way the money goes.

Pop! goes the weasel.

But then I got thinking about the British version, which is the one my husband grew up singing:

Half a pound of tuppenny rice,

Half a pound of treacle.

That’s the way the money goes,

Pop! goes the weasel.

Up and down the City Road,

In and out the Eagle,

That’s the way the money goes,

Pop! goes the weasel.

If you’re as history-obsessed as I am, you will found yourself looking for meaning even in traditional children’s songs. The explanation I like best involves, coincidentally, the Victorian period. If you know that “pop” is a slang term for “to pawn” and that “weasel” is Cockney rhyming slang for “coat”, then the lyrics suddenly make sense. This isn’t just an odd little nursery rhyme featuring lively weasels; it’s about grinding urban poverty. Go ahead, check it out!

This grittiness makes me like the song even more. How about you?

Bookmark and Share

Rebels with a Cause

Friday, April 22nd, 2011

Hello friends, and sorry for the blogging blip; the Gremlins of the Interweb locked me out of my site for – gasp! – almost 2 days. I know, I know: modern-day nightmares are so banal.

Anyway, this week’s blog post, Rebels with a Cause, is part of YABookReads’s Historical Fiction vs Dystopia showdown. Among other things, I argue that “History is about competing stories, rival interpretations, and detective work.” Much as I enjoy dystopia, I think we all know which genre will prevail. ;)

And look! It’s an Agency collage!

by Zoë Lehoux, age 11

I love that Zoë sought out an image of Mary’s jade pendant (near the top, left of centre). What do you think? Is it like you imagined? Thank you for letting me share your hard work, Zoë!

Bookmark and Share