Lionheart

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I'm not a feminist.

Most of you are probably already aware of that; I kind of gave myself away with my post on Female Stereotypes back in October.  Apart from that, I think you will find my stance on the relationship of Man and Woman sprinkled through the romance in each of my novels - from The Soldier's Cross (which, in the main character's case, has little more than an undercurrent of romance), to Wordcrafter (where the quite modern main character struggles with the conservatism of Tera), to the Sea Fever novels (where Tip quite obviously takes the role of guardian to Marta). 

I have no patience with the flimsy cardboard women of old romantic literature, but neither have I the slightest interest in passing the time of day with such do-it-alls as inspired October's post.  I like happy mediums, and the romances in my novels thus far have reflected that.  Not by plan, certainly: to me as the writer, these relationships developed almost coincidentally.  "I can't take any credit for them," as Lucy Muir would say: "they just...happened!"  But develop that way they did.

Not so with Tempus Regina.  In so many ways this book has launched me out of my comfort zone, has, I hope, forced me to expand and expand some more.  I made a list several months ago of the things that are particularly tricky about it: the female main character, the span of time and research, the traveling the characters do.  One thing I did not write down was "romance."  At that time the romance between Regina and, well, Some Fellow was but the kernel of an idea, one I was fond of and longed to develop, but which had not yet come to life.

I've come quite a ways in the story since then: we seem to have gone to one end of the earth and are now headed for the other.  The chapter I am currently writing contains a scene I've been longing to write almost since Day One - you probably all know that feeling! - but the beginning has been slow, and so I've been thinking on this romance and wondering a little at it.  On the surface, these characters - and therefore this relationship - seem to depart so vastly from anything I have written to date.

Regina herself is a tough cookie.  She's not a steel magnolia - she's really just steel.  Having lived in London of 1849 for years, she has had some of its smoke, some of its colorlessness, some of its mercilessness ground into her.  Now she is the time queen, with a power and a persona that inspire fear.  Her strength and her dominance make her romance, not hard to write, but new.  Because if she is the power-figure, and if she terrifies those with whom she comes into contact, her romance could hardly be of the beaten-path variety.  She demands a man who can, in his own way, match her and surpass her in strength.

[because I'm pretty sure Tip would be thoroughly freaked out by her.]

That has been the joy of writing the romance of Tempus Regina.  At first blush, I suppose readers might think Regina is the dominant figure, that she is the one with all the brains and the chutzpah.  And at first blush, she is.  But down at the heart of the matter, in the things that count, the hero of Tempus Regina is more powerful still.  They're like Sophie and Howl, like Katherina and Petruchio.  They're a pair.

Yesterday I discovered the song King and Lionheart.  I had seen some of the lyrics elsewhere and liked them, and then when I listened to the song, I thought - naturally - of these two characters.

and when the world comes to an end

I'll be there to hold your hand

'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart

But then I realized that matters are different in Tempus Regina.  Because Regina is a queen, but the man who stands beside her is her lionheart.  And for me, that's where the thrill and the joy of this story lie.

A Cross Section

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I have quite a few books.  Not as many as some people, and not as many as I would like, but I've got books.  Most of them line a six-shelf white bookcase just inside my room and to the right, either standing on end like they're meant to or lying across the tops of books-that-are-roughly-the-same-height.  A number occupy a brown entertainment unit, sitting two layers deep and being, all around, rather difficult to access.  Whenever I'm feeling blue or idle, I drift through my room, look over the covers on each shelf and occasionally pull one off just to flip through.  They are friends, and they make me feel at home.

I was just thinking about this fondness, not just for books, but for my books, the other day as I pulled Kidnapped off the shelf and ran my thumb through the pages.  I think most readers can understand this feeling of love for their own books, and special love for particular works; and as I was trying to get my sluggish mind to determine what I would write about today, I thought, "Why not these books?"  I wrote a post on some of my favorites back in 2011, and though naturally the list has changed since then as I read more, I didn't feel like redoing it.  Instead I decided to pick one book (semi-randomly) from some of the shelves and give it attention.

Kidnapped (R.L. Stevenson): This is not at all random and is actually cheating a little, since the book is off the shelf being reread, but one can't help that.  In the grand scheme of things Kidnapped is a very new favorite: I finished reading it for the first time exactly a year ago, in March 2012.  It is a story of adventure - adventure on the sea, adventure through the highlands of Scotland - as most of Stevenson's works are.  The main character, a hard-headed Lowlander named David Balfour, sets out to gain his rightful inheritance and becomes embroiled in the political tensions of the Highlands - and particularly in the affairs of the outlaw Jacobite Alan Breck Stewart.  My love for the story was not at all slow in coming: I fell in love with Stevenson's ironic humor and sparkling characters at first sight. David is a stalwart, upright chap with a dry, biting kind of wit.  Alan Breck is wholly lovable, an absolute gem, and a swift favorite.  And I don't have many favorites.

My edition of Kidnapped is a paperback Modern Library Classic - nothing magnificent, but it is one of those that seems tied to the story itself.  I am extremely fond, not just of the tale, but of the book.  I take it down frequently to flip through (and sniff: I'm an incorrigible book sniffer).

Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte): I haven't read this book in quite a while, except one time fairly recently when I took it down to reread the part where you Find Out Who Is Locked Up.  When I did read it for the first time, several years ago, I didn't know anything about it.  I didn't even know about the plot point for which it is famous.  I was right there with Jane as she learned Mr. Rochester's secret; I recall I read that section in the evening, and it gave me such a shock I dove out of bed in search of someone to tell.  I'm pretty sure everyone else knew it, so it was probably just me babbling incoherently while they nodded in vague sympathy and thought, "Wow, she's ignorant!"

My copy of Jane Eyre is a hardback Courage Classics edition; originally it had a dust jacket, but I took it off in an effort to render the book slightly less hideous.  Seriously, Jane and Mr. Rochester looked like apes.

The Scarlet Pimpernel (Baroness Orczy): I think most of you Scribbles readers are Scarlet Pimpernel fans, so this one needs little explanation.  This book was another that I read years ago and had no knowledge of at the time - I somehow managed to be extremely ignorant when it came to classics.  The back of the edition I have gave it away, as synopses often do, and in revenge I whipped out a black Sharpie and blotted out that paragraph forever.  Now whoever gets the copy (an Aerie paperback with a huge orange "2 for $1 WAL-MART!" mark on the front, detracting a great deal from the picture of the two men dueling) will not have it given away.  Just in case they're as blissfully unaware of the Scarlet Pimpernel's identity as I was.

The Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien): Jenny was the first one to read these to me - before or after we watched the films, I don't remember.  I think it was before.  We got through the first two books and about halfway through the third, but I seem to remember finishing it on my own; I also recall she skipped the Council of Elrond, and when I went back to it a few years later, I was shocked to find how much I had missed.  I haven't gone back to them in some time; after the movies came out I was a huge fan, but that wore off and while I still appreciate the books, the series isn't my absolute favorite.

I am pretty fond of the copies I own, however, since I scored a deal on a set of unread Del Rey paperbacks at a secondhand bookstore.  They're so perfect and fit on the shelf so well, it actually seems a shame to take them off and read them.

The Tall Ships (John Jennings): This book has an interesting story behind it.  I forget why it came up in conversation, but my father remembered that there was a novel he had read years before dealing with the Jeffersonian Embargo, and could not for the life of him remember its author or the whole of its title.  He only knew it had something to do with "tall ship."  We had a deal to do finding it, but we did manage to track it down and to get a nice Doubleday hardback.  While there are some elements of the story that I took issue with, it was interesting to discover a novel set in the Age of Sail that focused more on the characters and their growth than on any individual event (coughHornblowercough).  Jennings' style is much closer to that of The White Sail's Shaking and The Running Tide than either Forester's or O'Brian's.

Alchemy (E.J. Holmyard): I picked up this book for research and though I have only read the first chapter so far, that first chapter was enough to pique my interest.  I don't know that I will necessarily read it straight through - that depends on how engaging it is - but it is a fascinating topic.  (And it actually makes some amount of sense under Aristotelian philosophy!)  Being a writer is such fun: you have an excuse to research the most outlandish things.  This copy is, alas, merely a bright red Dover paperback with several USED stickers on the back and spine.  To have an old hardback would be lovely, but ho hum!

so there's a cross section of my shelves.  what about yours?