by Roseanna White | May 18, 2016 | 17th-19th Centuries, 20th Century, Ancient World, Remember When Wednesdays
I’m a historical fiction writer–and a historical fiction reader. I have always loved to learn history (or reinforce it) through a fictional story. For me, for my mind, that makes facts stick in ways that an article or non-fiction book seldom make it do. It makes it come alive. It makes it walk and breathe.
Over the weekend, I was hanging out with my family and with a man named Sascha–back in 1993, he came here from Germany for a year and stayed with my family as a foreign exchange student. We’ve seen him several times since, but the last was, for me, 16 years ago, when he came in for my high school graduation and stayed in for my sister’s wedding in July, traveling with friends for the weeks in between. Last year in May, he got married in Palermo, and my parents went to the wedding. Now he and his new bride came for a visit here.
Somehow, the talk around the dining room table turned to different parts of history as we ate. We talked about volcanoes, and I had to tell about the one in Mexico the kids learned about in Hill of Fire (by Thomas Lewis), an early reader about a volcano that came up out of a farm field and erupted in 1943.
We talked about the beautiful, intricate wood carvings he brought for us from the small German village where his father was born and raised, and I was reminded of the amazing carvings in The Seven Wonders of Sassafras Springs (by Betty G. Birney–a really, really cool book for kids, and which adults can enjoy too, if you’re looking for a read-aloud!)
Sascha brought chocolates, as well, including some Ferrero Rocher from Italy, in their shiny gold wrappers. My niece loves any chocolates in shiny wrappers–she refers to them as “chocolate balls of deliciousness” and collects those wrappers . . . which, of course, reminded me of the candy wrappers in The Kitchen Madonna (by Rumer Godden), and how the inventive children used them to create something beautiful and meaningful. And how the quest for each piece of paper, each scrap of material changed hearts and lives.
And those are just a few examples from dinner. Over the course of the weekend, various conversations also touched on the Baptist movement in Sweden (Gathered Waters by Cara Luecht), the Iconoclastic Fury in Holland (The Sound of Diamonds by Rachelle Rea), WWII in Holland (The Winged Watchman by Hilda van Stockum).
How the Russian Orthodox church was separated from the Western church (research for A Lady Unrivaled). We talked about the early church before the Bible was canonized, and I brought up what I’d learned when researching for Giver of Wonders.
It’s possible I talk about history more than the average person, LOL–it’s one of my passions, it’s what my writing involves, plus I homeschool my kids, so I’m reading it with them every day. But it’s history that I remember so well because of story. History that’s real to me because characters have made it so. History I rarely forget, because those stories have become a part of my heart, a part of my life.
I’m always baffled by people who don’t read fiction. Or, no–I understand those who just aren’t inclined toward it, whose minds work differently than mine. What I don’t understand are people who scoff at those of us who do enjoy fiction, especially genre fiction. Who deem it stupid or foolish or a waste of time, who call it “not real literature” and feel so superior because they only read non-fiction or so-called “literary” works.
To me, it’s the difference between a line drawing and a realistic painting. Between an indistinct statue and animatronics. To me, a compelling story makes what was real come to life again.
And so, whenever I come across those scoffers, I just smile. And I talk about whatever subject they’re talking about, the things I’ve learned about it . . . and the stories that brought it to life. I don’t ever apologize. I don’t really argue. I just prove the point. Yes, I write romance–and there are a ton of scoffers over that. I write historical romance. I read fiction of every genre and variety. Non-fiction when I must, to research, but it’s usually what I can weave into my story that I really remember. And I can talk intelligently. I know things they don’t, and I’m excited learn things I didn’t already. I can challenge them, and accept challenges in return.
And for me, it’s all thanks to fiction.
by Roseanna White | Nov 4, 2015 | 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
Yes, I did it. I made things complicated for myself–I wrote a series of books about the nobility of England, complete with all their complicated rules on what to call people.
Even worse, I wrote books about dukes. Who aren’t treated like the rest of the nobility, at least not in speech. Oh no. That would be far too simple.
So I read all I could find on how to address them. I scratched my head at what seemed really weird to me, and double checked it with those fiction writers who have made a career of this sort of thing. They agreed with the weirdness. So I went with it. And, of course, have heard from a few readers that I’ve got it all wrong, LOL. So I went back to those experts, who assures me that, no, I’m right. Small consolation when my readers don’t realize it, snicker, snicker.
But I thought I’d give us all a quick crash course–you know, just in case you’re ever dining with an Edwardian duke.
Now, we have it easy as commoners–the duke is just Your Grace when speaking to him. When speaking of him, you go with the full Duke of Stafford (because that’s the duke in my first book, so what other duke would you possibly want to dine with??) You never, never, never call him “my lord” or “Lord Stafford.” Dukes are too high up the social ladder to get a mere “lord.” If you become very good friends with him (despite your own lowly station, ahem), you may call him “Stafford” without the Duke part.
But what, you ask, if you happen to marry an earl or a marquess or a baron and are yourself titled when you meet him?? Well, that is the question, isn’t it? Then it gets tricky. Other peers (as you’re called) don’t ever say “Your Grace.” I mean, really–that would be beneath you. No, no, you simply call him Duke.
Which is where that weirdness comes in. “Duke?” People say. “What a funny nickname.”
But it’s not a nickname–it’s a term of respect. A bit like saying, “Come this way, Mr. President.” You would say, “Have a seat, Duke.”
In a pinch, you might use a “sir” with him–but again, never, never, never a “my lord” or “Lord Stafford.” You would just use Duke or Stafford.
Unless, of course, you know him really well. Then you might actually give him a nickname. (Yes, even lords and ladies have nicknames!) But what nickname? Because, honestly, they never, never, never use first names–not unless you were the mother or sibling of a titled man. And even then, if it’s a title they had since birth, you’d use the title, not the Christian name. So you’re not going to call them Bill or Joe or Alex. Sorry. No, what they did was shorten or modify the name they went by.
Which was–you guessed it!–their title.
My Duke of Stafford had a friend who loved to come up with odd nicknames. Back before he inherited the duchy, he was Lord Harlow–Thate called him Harry. Then he inherited the title of Marquess of Abingdon–Thate called him Bing. So what did Thate come up with for the Duke of Stafford?
“Stafford . . . Staff . . . which reminds me of a shepherd . . . so Shep!”
More simply, my Lord Whitby would have been called, for instance, Whit. Strange as it seems to us to take a high-faluting title and then un-falute it (let’s pretend that’s a word), they did. We have scores of books of the Victorian and Edwardian era proving it.
I know, I know. The rules are complicated for how to address the nobility, and especially so for dukes and duchesses. But we all must be prepared. So next time you dine with an Edwardian duke, you’ll know just what to do.
by Roseanna White | Sep 23, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
Gracious, my blogging has been sporadic! Sorry about that, all. I came home from vacation and was completely swamped by work. A good thing, but I kept totally spacing what day of the week it was and what that meant concerning blogs. 😉
But this being me, you can rest assured I spent my vacation being geeky and collecting history books about the Outer Banks. I found myself wondering as we drove along what the islands would have been like before the big bridge was built to connect them to the mainland. Where did they get their fresh water? (Cisterns and desalination shacks.) When did electricity arrive? (The 1940s!!!)
Well, I found so many interesting tales! One of my favorites was from the antebellum days, when the Outer Banks were an oft-forgotten outpost occasionally used, even then, as a resort. One young man told a tale of arriving on the island by boat for a stay at the hotel in Kitty Hawk. He describes with awe the great sand dunes he has to hike over to get to his lodging–the most sand he had ever seen in his life, and it went all the way up to his ankles while he walked.
He and the other guests found charming the laid-back island atmosphere…which wasn’t so laid back when it came to meals. Being a sophisticated fellow, he was accustomed to supper being served at 8 o’clock or even later, but not so on the island. It was served at 6, and if you missed it, sorry ’bout your luck.
Houses on the island never had cellars, but what I hadn’t realized was that early ones didn’t have ceilings either. All the rafters were open, which this guest found lovely and pleasant when it was a matter of the frangrant breezes whispering to him…but when the wind kicked up, it would blow sand straight into the houses, filling beds, bowls, mouths, eyelids…
That’s one part of history I’m happy to leave in the past, LOL.
Most of the gentleman who came to the islands did so for the duck hunting. And most residents of the island made their living from catering to these rich folks, or from hunting and fishing and selling it to New York or Philadelphia. So it was a huge setback to island life when a law was passed in the 1920s that severely restricted hunting. This was also near the time when the government first talked of making it a national park–and so, to preserve it, they constructed beach-side sand dunes to keep the island were it was.
The problem for locals? With the dunes came a law that animals were no longer allowed to run free. As a small, insular community, islanders had to be pretty self-sufficient, which meant keeping chickens, cows, pigs, etc. But it’s not exactly fabulous pasture around there, so everyone let their livestock run free until this point–and were none too happy about this whole “park” idea when it began interfering with even their most basic way of life.
But the idea got derailed anyway. At one point after WWII they even saw oil prospectors arrive…but who found nothing. The park service did eventually turn part of the island into a wildlife preserve, and like people everywhere, the islanders adapted to the times as they changed. Eventually it was rediscovered as a vacation spot, and now, driving through the bustling towns of Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, and Kill Devil Hills, you can’t see so much as a glimpse of the island’s beginnings.
But it’s there, hidden in the more out-of-the-way places. Still whispering on those sea breezes.
by Roseanna White | Jul 8, 2015 | 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
I found myself in an interesting place in my story the other day. I needed my heroine to be out somewhere, away from her chaperones, where she could meet with another young lady of whom they didn’t approve. It needed to be someplace public, but that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. I had a hunch that a tea room might be perfect…but I wasn’t quite sure. So away I went to look it up.
What I discovered was absolutely perfect. The idea of a public tea room first gained popularity in the late Victorian age and soon became quite trendy. In London, there were a few rival establishments that were the epitome of posh–gorgeous decor, orchestras, etc. These were beautiful establishments which were perfectly acceptable places for young, unmarried ladies to go without chaperones. They would often attend their correspondence there, enjoying a few hours out and about on their own.
What’s more, they were one of the first places where a young lady could work without anyone frowning about it–even well-to-do young women often took on part-time jobs at tea rooms just for a little extra spending money. I had no idea!
I discovered most of this on a fun blog called Edwardian Promenade – go take a peek if you’re interested in the era!
And I know this is short, but you’ll have to excuse me. I’m getting ready to leave for a writing retreat, where I will hopefully get to The End of this last Ladies of the Manor book!!
by Roseanna White | Apr 15, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
Oh. My. Gracious.
So. As I was debating what servant POV I was going to use in the third installment of my Ladies of the Manor Series, I decided it would be fun to have it be the lady’s maid of the villain rather than the heroine. Though of course, she couldn’t just be any lady’s maid. Each of my servants’ POVs in the other two books propelled the story forward pretty spectacularly, so this one had to have a big purpose too.
So naturally, I decided she must be a Russian spy. Because, you know…of course. 😉 No seriously, it fits perfectly. My villains have made some pretty huge promises to “the Russian,” but they haven’t been able to deliver on said promises. Mr. The Russian might be getting a wee bit impatient, nyet? So obviously, he’s going to be looking into this.
Enter Miss Russian Spy. =D
Her name is Kira Belova, and in my mind’s eye she looks like this.
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| Elizaveta Boyarskaya, Russian actress who would be a perfect Kira |
I wasn’t really sure of her story, or how to write her, so I emailed my friend who has studied Russian history for years to ask for some guidance. She pointed me to a HUGE, hefty, meaty, enthralling book called Natasha’s Dance by Orlando Figes. I read for hours over the weekend, starting out going through the book chronologically and then jumping around a bit to the different sections so I could get closer to the time period I needed.
And Kira’s story started to crystallize.
Kira comes from a family of Russian peasant stock who were, until serfdom was abolished in the 1860s in Russia, serfs. Not just any serfs though–artist serfs. What are they, you might ask? I don’t know that I’d ever heard of this practice, or if I had, I’d forgotten. But Mr. Figes wrote a lot about them, all of it so very interesting.
The noble, wealthy families in Russia from the late 1700s through the mid 1800s controlled a lot. All the land, all the people who lived on the land. They had such a huge work force that it sometimes resulted in comical things like a horn band in which, rather than teach anyone to play their horn well, they simply taught scores of them to play one note well…and then to know where in the song to play their one note. (???? LOL)
The leading families created orchestras…operas…theaters…ballets…. They had architects…artists…and often harems from among the serfs. They would select a few of their serfs and send them to academies and Imperial schools in the capital, and then those artists would work for their masters. They could achieve great fame, but only rarely did their masters let them work for anyone else or accept commissions that could earn them fortune as well. It was considered fashionable and Western (it was very desirable to be Western in Russia in that era) to have a slew of serf girls devoted to your personal, intimate pleasure. Masters could treat these girls any way they desired–and when the girls got too old to please them, they’d usually marry them off to their best male serfs and give them a dowry.
As I read about these artist serfs over the weekend, I began to get a feel for Kira’s family’s story. I decided that her babushka (grandmother) was an artist serf, who ended up wed to her master’s huntsman (the elite of the male serfs)…but only after being one of his Girls. She was a singer or actress (haven’t decided which) but also–as most Russians were–a woman of great faith. (One famous Russian writer observed that Russians, as a whole, had to have great faith in order to survive life in Russia.) She raised her family to value above all the freedom they were granted. To do what they ought. To understand, as Russian peasants are famous for understanding, the realities of life and death.
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| Posters for the Ballet Russe, 1911 |
Kira would have broken her babushka’s heart when she ran off to Paris and joined the Ballet Russe–or rather, when she embraced the life of a ballerina in the Ballet Russe, which involved having a “patron” who supported her in high style…for, of course, the cost of being his mistress. The life Babushka had hated, had so valued getting away from, and Kira chose it freely.
But Kira’s going to get her redemption story, and it’s going to be a lot of fun to write. Because through her uniquely Russian understanding of life, she’s going to bring healing to some broken places in the world of her new English mistress. She, who has an intrinsic understanding of life and death (some of Tolstoy’s final words were musings about how the peasants die), will have wisdom to offer, though she never anticipated taking on such a role. She, though a spy, will help knit together families long feuding.
Yep. So. Much. Fun. The learning, the writing, the creating. Let’s pray I can adequately capture that Russian soul that so many artists and writers made it their life’s work to shape and bring to light–a Russian soul in many ways created by those artists struggling to understand their history and cultural identity.
by Roseanna White | Mar 11, 2015 | 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
In my upcoming Ladies of the Manor Series with Bethany House, my main characters are largely comprised of the British nobility. And because of certain reasons, jewelry comes up rather often. For book covers and whatnot I’ve had to search out photos, so I thought it would be fun to share some of my visual aids here. =)
In book 1, The Lost Heiress, Brook has a necklace she wears all the time. It’s Victorian in its styling, with a gold filigree connecting two strands of pearls, with two dangling pearls from the filigree. Something sorta-kinda like this, though this image isn’t awesome.
But she inherits quite a bit more jewelry from her mother too. Like a ruby and diamond bracelet.
And an emerald and diamond necklace.
In book 2, The Reluctant Duchess, Rowena brings only one substantial piece of jewelry with her–a brooch with her family plaid.
She soon receives, however, the legendary Sussex ruby set. Which primarily features a ruby necklace that I envision to look something like this.
There’s a matching bracelet, but rather than those small earrings featured with this set (which is actually red crystals and not rubies, but you know–we’re just going for style here, LOL), I instead describe a dangling set…which Rowena can’t wear, not having pierced ears.
The earrings will, however, be borrowed by my heroine for book 3, Ella. (The book is tentatively titled The Waiting Lady, though that will likely change. Still noodling stronger, more provocative words than “Waiting”–ideas???) Anyhoo. I describe the earrings as having 3 rubies on each one, dangling in tiers. Kinda like these, though with an extra level.
Having not actually, ahem, written any of book 3 yet, I don’t know what other bling Lady Ella might end up with. 😉 But I have a definite love for the pretty baubles, so you can be sure something will come up. =)
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.