Oh, Picts!



One of the Aberlemno Stones showing
Christian and Pagan Symbols

 Here we are for the first posting of 2011. I hope everyone had a truly festive Yuletide and a Happy New Year. May Fortuna smile upon us all this upcoming year.

Today, I wanted to discuss a topic that is often neglected although it is very interesting: the Picts and pictish art. When going through more of my old photos from my days in St. Andrews, I came across a packet of prints from an outing with some of my MLitt colleagues to visit pictish sites in Angus, Scotland. The main attraction for us was the wide array of ornate carvings on several pictish gravestones, most of which are maintained by Historic Scotland at the Meigle Museum which is itself an old school house on the A94 Coupar Angus to Forfar road (for those of you who are interested in visiting). This little museum is a true gem and well worth a visit.

Before looking at the carvings however, I suppose I should answer one simple question. Who were the Picts? We hear about them all the time, especially in relation to the Roman invasion of what is now Scotland by Agricola in AD 79. The action-packed movie CENTURION, which came out in 2010, deals with Agricola's operations north of the Firth of Forth and the presumed disappearance of the Ninth Legion. In the film, the Picts are portrayed as society run by a warrior elite, the members of which paint themselves with woad. The film is very entertaining, if not violent, but the best thing is that it was filmed where much of the history presumably took place. It is worth a gander for that, if anything. But were the Picts simply a mass of blue barbarians as they are so often portrayed? Likely not.



Typical pictish symbols

 Contrary to the usual portrayal, the Picts were not simply one enormous group living and fighting north of the Antonine Wall. They were indigenous Celts and the term "Picts" is more of a blanket term that included approximately twelve Celtic tribes north of the Forth and Clyde rivers. These were recorded by the  Roman geographer Ptolemy in the 2nd century AD. Because of the military threat posed by Imperial Rome, the Celts in the area amalgamated into two larger groups, The Caledonii and the Maeatae. The Romans came to refer to them all as Picti.

The Pictish federation survived the various Roman incursions (the last one being the Severan invasion of Scotland in the early 3rd century). As a result the Picts were able to develop mechanisms of kingship and by the 6th century there was a Pictish kingdom.

In Pictish art, there are certain recurrant symbols such as those found on the Aberlemno stone including the 'serpent', the 'double-disc' and the 'Z-rod'. When I visited the Meigle museum I was struck immediately by the amount of Christian imagery, having had in my mind typical images of paganism when it came to the Picts. The presence of crosses and other Christian images is due to the conversion of the Picts to Christianity after the Irish abbot of Iona, St. Columba, ventured into Pictland in AD 565. Columba met the Pictish king, Bridei son of Maelchon in a fortress near the River Ness and thus began the conversion of the Picts, a process that was complete by about AD 700.



Interior of Meigle Museum

 The pictish symbol stones are one of the most important sources for information about the Picts and the symbols, common from one end of Scotland to the other, were widely understood by all the tribes. Now however, we know very little of their actual meaning except that they functioned as memorial stones or territorial boundary markers.

The church yard at Meigle contained a large number of pictish stones, implying that Meigle was itself a very important centre of burial for the pictish church and under the patronage of the kings of the Picts. Eventually however, pictish rule, which had survived the onslaught of Rome, was taken over by the Gaelic-speaking settlers of Dalriadia (modern Argyll) which led to the reign of the Scots King, Kenneth mac Alpin and his subsequent dynasty.



Cross-slab no.1
The Death of Queen Vanora

 Before we bid farewell to the Picts however, there is an interesting Arthurian connection with Meigle and one of the pictish stones (cross-slab no.1). On entering the graveyard at Meigle, there is a grassy mound known as Vanora's Grave. Local tradition has it that Vanora was actually Queen Guinevere, the wife of Arthur. Vanora was abducted by the pictish king, Mordred, and held captive near Meigle. When she was returned to her husband after this enforced infidelity she was sentenced to death by being torn apart by wild beasts, hence the scene of Vanora's death on the back of cross-slab no.1. Here remains were buried at Meigle. Tradition also says that Vanora (and Guinevere for that matter) was barren and it is said that any young woman who walks over her grave is said to risk becoming barren herself. True or not, this is yet another interesting anecdote of history and legend.


Hope you've enjoyed this. Once more, if you ever get the chance to visit Meigle's museum and some of the stones in the surrounding area, it is well worth it. If Picts are your thing, then you may also wish to visit Pictavia (http://www.pictavia.org.uk/), a new visitor centre and living history museum for pictish history in Angus, Scotland. If you visit Pictavia at the right time of year, you just may see the Picts and Rome's Legions do battle one last time!

Rosslyn Chapel

Rosslyn Chapel - North Side

Something a bit different for this entry. I was going through one of many boxes of old photos that I have from my studies and travels and came upon a packet of prints from a visit to a truly amazing place - Rosslyn Chapel.

Having lived in St. Andrews, Scotland for a couple of years I had the opportunity to visit new and interesting sites all of the time, from Melrose and the Roman fort at Trimontium in the Scottish borders to Inverness and Eilean Donan castle and everything in between. It was something new every weekend. You can visit prehistoric sites, Pictish sites and Roman sites, of which there are many. I'll talk about the latter at another time. Finally, there is a wealth of medieval sites to visit and I have a few entries coming up on those.

Building materials for restoration work

One of the most interesting sites that I did visit was Rosslyn Chapel. I was fortunate enough to have done this in the pre-Da Vinci Code days of publishing after which, I am certain, hordes of eager tourists turned the quiet chapel into a virtual marketplace of symbology. I'm not trashing that as I'm sure the major influx of funds has helped Rosslyn Chapel's restoration along nicely. When I was there there was scaffold everywhere, along with piles of stone that were to be used in the work. But oh, what a place, and what a treat for me and my three friends to have it all to ourselves at the time. 

Rosslyn Chapel lies just south of Edinburgh and has been known as many things throughout its history - the Chapel of the Grail, a key to the secrets and treasures of the Templar Knights, the survivors of which were absorbed, some say, into the Masonic order. Certainly, many authors and historians have contributed to theories that go beyond the boundaries of conventional academia. And why not? It makes for fascinating fiction as well as some perfectly viable historical theories. A few book mentions later on.

North Aisle

Carving of Lucifer, the Fallen Angel

Rosslyn Chapel Chapel was founded in 1446 by Sir William St. Clair, the last St. Clair Prince of Orkney, who was buried in the chapel. It took some forty years to build what remains today and even that was not what was intended, for the original plan called for a larger structure. Evidence of this was found in an early excavation when the archaeologists discovered foundation walls that went well beyond the existing walls. Not everyone perceived Rosslyn as a sanctuary, a work of art or marvel of mysticism. Many, especially protestants, labelled Rosslyn as a house of idolatry, no doubt disconcerted by the images staring at them from every corner of the intensely ornate chapel.

Outer wall of St. Clair Castle

I will not go into the long history of Rosslyn Chapel here as this is more of a short pictorial tease, however, this place was not awarded the respect that was due to such a work of art. In 1650, during the Civil War when Oliver Cromwell's troops were besieging St. Clair Castle (only about 100 meters away), the English horses were stabled in the chapel. In 1688, pro-Protestant villagers from Roslin entered and damaged the chapel because it was "Popish and idolatrous". It was abandoned until 1736 when James St. Clair repaired the windows, roof and floors. If you have read a great deal about Rosslyn, the Templars and/or Masons, you will know that the name of St. Clair (or Sinclair) figures prominently. In April of 1862, the Rosslyn Chapel was rededicated as a place for worship and has undergone various stages of repair over the years, including when I visited in 2000. 

Carving detail

 It is, unfortunately, easy to get taken up with picture taking in such a place. I know that at first, I certainly did, but once I ran out of film I was able to sit quietly in that place and admire it for a while. I remember it being very quiet and there certainly was a feeling of constantly being watched (and not by CCTV cameras!). No, there was definitely a feeling to the place, unlike any other. Yes, you do have some of the usual religious iconography and stained glass but there is more of the unusual and mysterious. Questions certainly abound. For instance, the appearance of American vegetation such as aloe or Indian corn! There is a plethora of mythical creatures, dragons especially, of unusual angels such as the one playing the bag pipes, or another carrying the heart of Robert the Bruce (could it be the Black Douglas who was to take the Bruce's heart to Jerusalem?).

Angel carrying the heart of Robert the Bruce



The Apprentice Pillar

One of the most famous works in the chapel is the Apprentice Pillar. This twisted pillar, based with eight coiled dragons, is a true masterpiece and the story goes that when the master mason when away, his apprentice continued to work and created something that far surpassed that of the master. The master mason was so enraged with jealousy that he killed the apprentice with his mallet.

I think however, that the most striking thing for me was the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the chapel. At one point, you look up and there above is an intricate pattern of alternating daisies, lilies, flowers, Roses and stars.

Ornamented Barrel-vaulted Ceiling

Numerous books have been written about this place, countless pictures published on-line but, there is no substitute for actually visiting it, interacting with it. Rosslyn has quite a story to tell, no matter what your perspective. You can gaze at it for hours and not see it all.

Here are a few recommended reads that touch on Rosslyn but also on the Templars and Masons. If fiction is your thing, check out Jack Whyte's Templar Trilogy in which the St. Clairs make an appearance. Oh, and why not check out Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code - it may not be literary fiction but it is highy entertaining and has caused millions of people to pick up a book and read who might not otherwise have done so. Besides, he fictionalizes some quite interesting theories put forward by Michael Baigent and Richard Leigh as well as other alternative historian/detectives.

A couple of non-fiction recommendations that I have are Rosslyn, Guardian of the Secrets of the Holy Grail by Tim Wallace-Murphy and Marilyn Hopkins and secondly, The Sword and the Grail by Andrew Sinclair. The latter is a very interesting exploration into the Templars and the possibility that they discovered North America more than ninety years before Columbus's journey of discovery. I know, it sounds mad but it is truly fascinating and besides, the Vikings discovered Newfoundland some five hundred or so years before Columbus! For you alternative history buffs out there, you'll already have made the link to the carvings of Indian corn and aloe on the walls or Rosslyn Chapel.

More to come in another few entries about some extraordinary sites in Scotland and other places. Hope you have enjoyed these shots of Rosslyn Chapel.

Angel with engrailed St. Clair cross



Knight with lance





Remembrance for All

Poppies

Today is the 11th of November, Remembrance Day here in Canada (the 14th in the UK). This is a day to think on the sacrifices of men and women in the armed forces now and in the past. Remembrance Day is not only about World War I and II but also Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, and Afghanistan. It is about remembering those who have served in any conflict of nations.

When I went to Remembrance Day ceremonies at Queen’s Park in Toronto this morning, I was happy to see so many people present. As ever, it was a solemn occasion blessed with sunlight and crisp autumn air. The bugle sang out sadly and when it stopped, four artillery cannons commenced firing. The sound of just one of those cannons going off was shocking to say the least and I tried to imagine, in vain, what it must have been like for any soldier when there were literally hundreds of those things going off. For troops to push on to the next trench, or take a hill, with cannons thundering all around, well, it must have taken a rare form of courage.



D-Day Invasion - Normandy



Warfare plays a prominent role in human history and is something that historical novelists write about a lot, something that readers are thrown into. I remember reading John McCrae’s poem In Flanders Fields in grade school and I still wear a poppy this time of year. Like so many others, my grandfathers served in both World Wars – one with British forces under General Allenby during WWI and the other with the Greek Merchant and U.S. Navies dodging German U-boats in WWII. I wish they had lived longer so that I might have learned more from them, and though most of their stories are lost to our family, I still remember. Just because a conflict fades farther into the past does not mean that its importance is diminished in any way. War is ugly, no doubt and despite the Homeric ideals that have lived on for thousands of years, there is nothing romantic about another soldier’s brains exploding next to you.

There are countless novels and films about the World Wars, Vietnam and other modern conflicts. But, as this is a blog about historical fiction in the ancient and medieval periods I have a few recommends about turning point conflicts in the more distant past.

As far as historical battles go, the Battle at Thermopylae (480 B.C.) stands out over the ages as the true measure courage and sacrifice. When the Persian king, Xerxes invaded Greece he was met at the narrow pass of Thermopylae by 300 Spartans and 700 Thespians. The Greek forces delayed the Persians long enough for the rest of Greece to rally its forces – they all perished. For a good novel about this conflict, check out Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield.

Monument to the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae

When it comes to Alexander the Great (356-323 B.C.) opinion is divided and differing theories are rampant and hotly debated. Was he a hero or a butcher? Was he the greatest general in history or was it is his father, Philip who should lay claim to that title for having created the army Alexander used? The questions go on and on. One thing is certain, Alexander’s campaigns ushered in a new golden era in which not only warfare and siege craft flourished but also, art and learning and technological advancement. Alexandria became the greatest city of the ancient world where the brightest minds gathered at the greatest library ever known. Some say that Alexander’s goal was to spread Hellenic culture to the rest of the world and so unite it. This might seem impossible with the violent sieges of Tyre and Gaza but then, he was also welcomed as a liberator in Egypt and Ionia and when he went east, he adopted many of their customs and traditions as his own. Alexander is one of the most complicated personages in history and I doubt that anyone will ever nail down who the man was exactly. A good series of books on Alexander is Valerio Massimo Manfredi’s Alexander Trilogy which looks at Alexander’s life from childhood to his death in Babylon.
If you are looking for a pivotal war in the Roman period, there are several to choose from, but the one that stands out for me because of a trilogy of novels is the second Punic War against none other than Hannibal. Carthage was dealt a humiliating blow by Rome at the end of the first Punic War and there was much hatred on both sides. Hannibal met his match in the person of Scipio Africanus on the plain of Zama (206 B.C.), in modern day Tunisia. The trilogy of books (Hannibal; Scipio; and Carthage) by Ross Leckie is an excellent read that I highly recommend. He manages to make us sympathetic to both sides of the conflict and a most interesting way.

Those are just a few recommended reads from me. I don’t really have any that deal with the wars of our modern age to suggest. When it comes to reminding myself of the World Wars, for example, I turn to films like Patton, Saving Private Ryan, The Thin Red Line or The Guns of Navarone. Even Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, based on the book by Louis de Bernières is a great film that sheds light on a bit of little-known history of the war on the Greek island of Cephalonia. Everyone has their favourites.

So, today, I raise my cup to the fallen heroes of the past and present. To my grandfathers and grandmothers who suffered and fought through the World Wars, to my cousin who lost her brave husband so recently in Kandahar, one of the cities founded by Alexander himself.

To the glorious Dead, thank you, now and always….


Normandy Graveyard for American Troops



Memorial at Thermopylae

Wine-Dark Sea Battles

 Today I read about the discovery of what experts believe is a Carthaginian warship ram discovered off of Sicily that is thought to date to a sea battle of 241 B.C. between the rising Roman Republic and Punic Carthage. This was the First Punic War which ended with a treaty in 241 B.C. Here is a photo of the bronze ram that was found and which is a remnant of the last great naval battle of that war:

For a writer, sea battles can provide a very different setting for engaging enemies. The sights, smells, sounds and weapons are not always those that will paint a picture of battle on land. A good example of a small scale, ancient sea battle can be found in Gillian Bradshaw’s historical novel set in ancient Greece entitled The Sun’s Bride. This book has some great sequences and while they are not the large scale battles that no doubt marked the First Punic War, they will give a good idea of what was involved.

A good resource for research on ancient war ships if you are interested is the Trireme Trust (www.triremetrust.org.uk/). In 1987 this group built a full scale, working trireme and carried out numerous experiments to prove or disprove various theories related to the most common and deadliest of ancient war ships, the trireme. The ship itself, known as the Olympias, has been in movies and events in both Britain and Greece. In the summer of 2012, the trireme will be in New York City harbour as part of the tall ships exhibition and will be accompanied by an exhibition on Athenian maritime history at the South Street Seaport Museum (http://www.trireme.org/).

So, if you want to add a little salt-sea flair to your writing, a battle scene with a twist, get your sea legs on and get your men on board ship. If your legionaries are not comfortable at sea, remember the Roman invention of the corvus, the spiked boarding plank that the Romans invented during the First Punic War that allowed infantry to fight as though they were on land when at sea. Things were likely just as bloody. If you like movies, check out The Odyssey with Armand Assante and Greta Scacchi or Jason and the Argonauts with Jason London, Natasha Henstridge and Derek Jacobi. Both of these are great fun to watch. Just remember to offer up something to Poseidon or you could find yourself adrift.



Ancient Greek Trireme



Imperial Feast

Feasting has always played an important role in the ancient and medieval worlds as well as today. Feasts were celebratory, religious and sacrificial, in honour of various gods and goddesses and other sacred occassions.

Today is Canadian Thanksgiving, so, for all you Canadians out there, Happy Thanksgiving. Our own table was overflowing with food last night and the wine was certainly flowing, perhaps not in Dionysian proportions but enough to bring a rosy hue to our cheeks. Our sacrifice was a large turkey that fulfilled its role admirably and will provide lunchtime sandwiches for a week.

The ancients did not have turkeys on their tables but they had countless feast days. A recommended read is the Handbook to Life in Ancient Rome by Adkins and Adkins which has a wonderful chronological list of all of the feast days celebrated in the Greek and Roman world. But what did they eat?



The Classical Cookbook by Andrew Dalby and Sally Grainger

Well, if you are adventurous in your culinary explorations, you may want to check out The Classical Cookbook by Andrew Dalby and Sally Grainger. This is a wonderfully varied cookbook that contains everything from really easy dishes like chicken stuffed with olives (my favourite!) to more exotic, quirky meals like rock eel with mulberry sauce. Whatever recipe you choose will help you to feed or frighten friends and family. It will also help you writers out there with your research and will add some texture and taste to you dining scenes. The book is well researched, the writers having taken the recipes within from a range of classical texts that describe dishes from such ancient cooks as Marcus Gavius Apicius (inventor the hamburger during the reign of Tiberius).

There is a lot more food and history to be had in this book as well as others that will add a historical twist to any feast. So, if living history is the thing for you, why not step back and try out a feast ancient Greek or Roman style. Could be that your next Halloween, American Thanksgiving or Christmas feast will have people talking for quite some time. Cheers!

Eleusis to Avalon



Harvest symbols at Eleusis


The Autumn Equinox is here and there is a full, waxy moon glowing above Toronto. In the city it is a bit difficult to feel a connection to harvest, our rural roots having been eclipsed long ago by fast, urban living.
In a small effort to reconnect with the earth and our western ancestors who were bound to it, I thought I’d mention a couple of traditions around what has for thousands of years been an extremely sacred time of year for many cultures. Of course, this is the time of year for Thanksgiving (earlier in Canada than in the USA) when we sit around the table en-famille and stuff ourselves like the turkeys that grace our tables. And wine, oh yes, and lots of it for the oenophiles among us. But where does all this come from? Not the pilgrims, I can tell you that.

Apart from this being the night when Summer gives way to Fall, when the length of day is equal to that of night, this time of year is also Harvest time. In ancient Greece it was the month of Beodromion and the festival Apollo, the time for one of the most sacred rites: The Eleusinian Mysteries. The Mysteries were of course, in honour of the Goddess Demeter who was associated with crops, fertility, harvest and the protection of marriage. The Mysteries also honoured Persephone, Demeter’s daughter who would go to spend half the year in the underworld with Hades. The time of harvest is associated with the death of agriculture and Persephone’s time away from her mother, the time Demeter would weep, wintertime.



Goddess Demeter

 "Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of
good gifts, what god of heaven or what mortal man has rapt away
Persephone and pierced with sorrow your dear heart?  For I heard
her voice, yet saw not with my eyes who it was.  But I tell you
truly and shortly all I know...
(from Hesiod's Hymn to Demeter - Hecate to Demeter)

...But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the
heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the
dark-clouded Son of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the
gods and high Olympus, and went to the towns and rich fields of
men, disfiguring her form a long while."
(from Hesiod's Hymn to Demeter)

The cult of Demeter and Persephone existed for over one thousand years and Eleusis, one of the most sacred places of ancient Greece was where the highly secretive ceremonies would take place in September and October. Sparse details about the ceremonies include bathing in the sea, sacrificing a piglet (not a turkey!), various sacred, secret objects and a procession from Athens to Eleusis.

The site of Eleusis is itself an amazing archaeological site that is well worth the visit if ever you have the opportunity. Apart from the vast complex of temples, and other remains, you can see the cave where Persephone supposedly descended into the Underworld, a door to Hades. Facing the dark entrance is a well known as the “Tears of Demeter”, thus named because of the goddess’ weeping in that spot. All quite moving.


The Door to Hades


Let us not dwell too long in ancient Greece however, for our Celtic ancestors in Europe also revered this time of year. To the Celts, harvest time was also known as Alban Elfed (Welsh for ‘Light of Autumn’), and the Feast of Avalon (Feast of Apples) among other names.

To the Celts, this was the time of year when the acorns fell from the sacred oaks and the last sheaf of wheat was cut by a young maiden. It was a time of reverence and thanks for the Earth’s bounty, a time to harvest once more and to slaughter animals before the onset of winter. An offering of apples would often be placed on burials to symbolize rebirth, hence the Feast of Avalon, Avalon of course being the ‘land of apples’.



Glastonbury Tor - 'In insula Avalonia'

 Harvest time, to the Celts, also preceded the sacred festival of Samhain which marked the end of the light of summer and the beginning of winter’s dark. Again, the cycle of light and dark, birth and death is an ever present arch-type, a cycle of which our ancestors were keenly aware and for which they had a deep respect.

So, as we sit to our laden tables this autumn, perhaps we should tip a bit of wine to the goddess who wept for her daughter’s departure into darkness, for the end of light. When the harvest moon shines down on us in all its luminescence where we live in a world of concrete floors and steel girders, think on our forest and field-dwelling ancestors, those who looked up at that same moon for ages from the dark circles of their sacred groves and gave thanks for all they had.

Oh Behave!

I quote Austin Powers. Yes, Austin ‘Danger’ Powers who is known to have said this occasionally when an erotic comment escaped some vixen’s lips on the silver screen. You’re right, absolutely nothing to do with ancient and medieval history or historical fiction. However, those two words not only denote Austin’s curious interest in the lewd but taken together they can also bring about a question:

When writing historical fiction, how much detail should one put into scenes that contain sex and nudity, be it a loving scene, a highly charged moment or in some cases, a scene of sexual violence? Opinion is divided, certainly in my own writers’ group. But really, where does one draw the line in historical fiction before it becomes more of an historical romance or an erotica moment?

I read an article the other day in one of the writing magazines that talked about the dos and don’ts of writing fiction. One of the don’ts included not underestimating one’s readership, not explaining everything in detail but rather leaving things up to the reader’s imagination. Makes sense but I am sometimes surprised, and not in a good way, by some of the things I read in historical novels; things like detailed rape scenes just don’t do it for me. They feel like the only use is for shock value. We know that rapine was a fact of the ancient and medieval worlds but such a heinous act, and the psychological effects upon the victim, can be related to a reader without going into the minute details of the whole thing. People know what it is and for most, the mere implication of such a thing happening is enough to convey the message.

One time, when I was looking for some new historical fiction, I picked up a novel set in the dark ages and began to read the first page. I had read one good review about this particular author so I thought I would check it out. To my horror, the very first scene was of a young woman being impaled upon a stake and it described in gory, perverted detail how here clothes were lifted and the stake inserted into genitalia as a large group of men looked on. I put the book down and will not pick up anything by that author again.

I may sound a bit preachy here but that does an injustice to historical fiction. I am certainly not a prude by any stretch of the imagination but I do feel that with all the suffering in the world authors have a responsibility to convey messages that will encourage humanity to goodness. Yes, evil is present, bad things happen but spare us the details at times.

On the other hand, someone, a reader or writer, with Mr. Powers’ cheeky view on life might enjoy a bit of randy detail in a scene and why not? They did know how to party it up in the ancient world. A bit of skin shown by flute girls at a banquet could be a bit of all right. Or you could add to the intrigue by having pairs of folks coupling in the wings while the Emperor is distracted. Sexy and dangerous. A bit of fun is good, but do we need to go so far as to see up close and personal things going in and out of other things? Probably not, this is historical fiction, not Penthouse Letters.

What about if two characters are deeply in love and you want to portray that to the reader? Remember the ‘show don’t tell’ rule but also remember not to show it all. The true love between characters will be apparent in how they interact, how they treat each other at all times, how they are when they are apart. If your two love birds are in an intimate moment, set the scene and give them a bit of privacy. The reader’s imagination will do the rest.

Basically, there are many ways to look at it, and many genres in which sexuality and violence are expressed in different ways. Historical fiction has recently garnered the respect it deserves and that momentum should be maintained – we are not writing true crime or erotica, we’re writing and reading well-researched and hopefully well-written historical fiction.

To finish off, I would like to relate an incident that occurred in one of my writing classes several years back. This was an evening class at a community centre. Everyone in the class had writing aspirations and many had short stories or first drafts of novels. The class had about ten to thirteen people in it, mostly women (old and young) apart from myself, twenty at the time, and an older English gentleman, a veteran working on a memoir. Once a week, the teacher would ask one of us to read another person’s work out loud and then everyone would provide input. My work of short fantasy had been read out the previous week so I was off the hook, content to sit back and bask in the positive vibes and constructive comments everyone had given me.

That week the teacher had selected several pages from one of the ladies’ romance novels, something set in the Wild West, complete with cowboys, banditos, covered wagons and women with names like Clementine and Annabelle.

“Adam”, the teacher swivelled her chair to face me, all the heads around the table following suite. “Would you like to read for us today?”

“Sure…” The lady sitting directly across from me was the author. As she sat there, apprehensive, wide-eyed, anticipatory, the teacher slid the sample pages to me. The teacher, I should say, did not like to read the samples ahead of time, preferring to rely on first impressions and initial impact. I accepted the pages, cleared my throat. Everyone except the author was staring at the table or ceiling, waiting for the blank canvas of their minds to be filled.

“Where the Sun Sets,” I read the title and pressed on. The setting was fantastic, romantic. The purples, golds and greens of the plains came alive and we were all drawn in. The characters were likeable, heroic, flawed, human. I tried to read well, to do it justice and glanced up occasionally to see the author brimming with pride and everyone else smiling at some far off place and time of happy memory. People gripped the table edges and chairs when the banditos rode in, grimy and destructive as in a Clint Eastwood movie. The hero, a cowboy, a cool dude with feelings, saved Ms. Annabelle from certain shame and a life of hardship when he rode after her and her captors for two days, tracking them like a wolf.

Ms. Annabelle was in danger, no doubt and we weren’t sure if the hero would reach her in time. But he pressed on. Oh yes, this author had her audience hooked. Even I forgot that I was reading in front of an audience. They didn’t care about me or my voice, they cared about the words, their rhythm, the images they conjured so magically. To make a long story short, the hero dispatched all ten banditos with stealth, skill and shear cohones. Ms. Annabelle was weeping but ever so grateful. The pair were taken care of by a doctor at the closest town. The hero insisted on sleeping outside Ms. Annabelle’s door because he wanted to make sure she was safe from any more suffering. Ms. Annabelle, unable to sleep because of the heat, the sweat and the man outside who had saved her, tossed and turned and finally went to the door.

As I read the words it started to feel warm. Something in the back of my mind said, Should I stop now? Why isn’t the teacher stopping me? I’ve read so much already! I could feel my neck getting warm. The Englishman beside me started to cough. Then, different words started to appear: sweaty, longingly, caresses, kisses and even licking. Intimate parts were being explored in the sweaty sheets of this bed on the south-western frontier. The hero stood above Ms. Annabelle who could not take her eyes off him and scanned his beautiful face, shoulders, torso and hips until her eyes fell upon… Oh, shit, do I have to read this? Really? The author stared at me and, my face red as a Roma tomato, I forced myself to finish, to get it over with.

…until her eyes fell upon his…swollen member.

“Ok Adam. That’s enough. Good reading.” The teacher sat back in her chair and I sank as far as I could go into my turtleneck, the Englishman beside going through a full-on coughing fit now. I wondered if anyone would loosen his ascot for him because was so utterly red, choked by embarrassment. “Well,” the teacher continued, “it sure is hot in here!” Everyone allowed themselves an uncomfortable chuckle. “Feedback?”

Some folks pointed out the beautiful descriptions of the landscape. Others highlighted the build-up between the characters, how they eyed each other along the wagon train but always within the bounds of propriety. The teacher nodded. I said nothing. I’d done my part. When the input from students was done, the teacher leaned on the table and smiled, looked at the author.

“This is a great romance novel, fits the genre archetypes very well but had your own unique style. Very good.” The author relaxed visibly but the rest of us knew it was coming. “However, an author should never, EVER, use the phrase swollen member.” Thank god she said it. “Leave that kind of detail to the reader’s imagination.”