I've been tagged by Janet B. Taylor and Candie Leigh for the "Lucky Seven" meme. Here are lines 7-15 from page 77 of my current manuscript:
Anyone else want to play? Leave a comment with a link. Let's see some lines from from your fabulous WIPs!
Bringing Sixteenth Century France to Life Through Historical Fiction
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| Photo credit: ferran pestaña |
Yesterday, I reviewed Sophie Perinot's debut novel, THE SISTER QUEENS. Today, Sophie answers some questions about her book.
The most humbling moment came about a week later. I took my youngest child to a Barnes & Noble near our home so that he could see my book on the table. He took one look, shrugged (really) and said something along the lines of, “That’s nice but the hardback books at the front are displayed standing up.” Wow. Yeah, that pretty much deflated them moment.
Power down your cell phone, turn off your computer, disconnect your landline. Now imagine that you want to share your latest joy or current frustration with someone dear...say, a sister who lives hundreds of miles away. What to do? Write a letter, of course. But now imagine the roads are bad, conveyances slow, your sister’s whereabouts uncertain. It will take weeks, perhaps months or even a year for your letter to arrive. By then, your news will be old, your feelings changed. Your sister, when and if she receives the letter, will have questions to ask, advice to offer, secrets of her own to share. But it will take just as long, if not longer, for her response to arrive. In the meantime, your life continues to unfold in ways your sister will never--can never--comprehend. Do you even bother to pick up that pen?
Marguerite and Eleanor of Provence, the protagonists of Sophie Perinot’s debut novel, THE SISTER QUEENS (NAL, March 2012), do reach for their quills, again and again and again. Despite distance, fallible couriers, scheming barons and marauding Saracens, the two sisters write to each other regularly, from the time they are separated by Marguerite’s marriage to King Louis IX of France in 1234 until they are reunited on a brief state visit between King Louis and Henry III of England, Eleanor’s husband, in 1255. Writing is the only way the sisters have of maintaining the bond of love they’ve shared since childhood, a bond so strong that each is as the other’s “own heart” (page 37).
Perinot deftly structures each chapter of her tightly written debut around an excerpt from one of the sister’s fictional letters to the other. As the chapters alternate in the first-person voice of each queen, the prefatory excerpt establishes which queen is speaking as well as the date and place from which she is writing. Since the chapter is recounted from that particular queen’s perspective, the reader becomes intimately familiar with the factual and emotional truth of her situation and the events in which she is involved. The interest in the letters, then, becomes what the letter-writer chooses to divulge to her sister and the manner in which she relates it. Armed with knowledge the recipient doesn’t have, the reader can follow in the letters the evolution of the sisters’ relationship as well as each sister’s personal growth.
For growth and change there is. Each queen faces distinct personal and political challenges, convincingly drawn. Marguerite, the reserved, obedient, respectable elder sister finds herself alone in France, married to a saintly but emotionally distant man who is ruled by his jealous mother and absorbed by the affairs of his kingdom and the Christians of the Holy Land. Eleanor, the more outspoken, willful and impetuous sister, arrives in England with a bevy of Savoyard relatives and quickly becomes indispensable to her adoring, domestic but diplomatically-less-than-adept husband. Each woman must learn what it means to be both queen and wife, how best to balance family and politics, and, most importantly, what she is willing to sacrifice in pursuit of personal happiness.
THE SISTER QUEENS is an admirable debut, well-written and richly imagined, peopled with unique characters and simmering with conflict. Despite its length, the story never bogs down with unnecessary detail; the politics of thirteenth-century France and England are sketched with just enough detail to support the dramatic action. The focus remains on the sisters’ relationship throughout, assuring thematic as well as structural cohesion. Ms. Perinot handles the alternating viewpoints with skill and ingenuity (pay close attention to handling of point-of-view in Chapter 40, where form and function unite for subtle but delightful effect). Readers will find themselves drawn to one of the sisters more than the other (I’m an Eleanor fan, myself), but that is one of the attractions of the book. Congratulations to the author for finding a little-explored moment in history and bringing it to life for modern readers with verve, demonstrating how the bonds of sisterhood transcend not only distance, but time.
[A word of warning to those who, like me, prefer “fade-to-black” love scenes: I'd describe sexual encounters in THE SISTER QUEENS as "all lights on."]
*****
You can learn more about Sophie Perinot and her work at her website and blog. Sophie is also a regular contributor to the group blog From the Write Angle.
Come back tomorrow for my interview with Sophie about THE SISTER QUEENS!
When choosing historical fiction, do you migrate towards books whose protagonists were actual historical personages, or do you prefer fictional characters placed in a historical setting? Author Elizabeth Loupas, whose second novel, THE FLOWER READER, goes on sale today, has written both types. The protagonist of Elizabeth's first novel, THE SECOND DUCHESS (NAL 2011), was Barbara of Austria, the true-life second wife of Alfonso II d'Este, the duke of Ferrara. THE FLOWER READER brings to life Rinette Leslie, a fictional sixteenth-century Scottish noblewoman who is able to foresee the future by reading flowers. In today's guest post, Elizabeth discusses her own preferences in the historical versus fictional protagonist debate.Historical? Or Fiction? Or both?
by Elizabeth Loupas
Some readers of historical fiction are suspicious of fictional characters introduced into historical settings. Is the fictional character created as a device to tell the story of a famous historical personage? Will she (or he) spend every scene listening at doors and peeping through peepholes? (We know all those Renaissance palaces were riddled with peepholes and secret passages.) Will the author resort to convoluted machinations to justify the fictional character’s presence whenever something important happens to the historical personage? Why not simply let the historical personage tell her (or his) own story?

A good question. And what I like to call “biographical fiction” can be wonderful and satisfying. Margaret George’s novels of historical women are good examples (Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles, The Memoirs of Cleopatra, Mary Called Magdalene, Elizabeth I), as is Susan Kay’s unforgettable Legacy and debut author Sophie Perinot’s The Sister Queens, to mention only a tiny few. A meticulously researched and carefully imagined historical “biography” can be both enriching and entertaining.
But sometimes I just want a book with more story. I want plot and drama and excitement and adventure and romance. The real lives of well-known historical personages don’t always include these elements, and trying to add them in by fictionalizing love affairs, conspiracies and betrayals, secret lives as detectives, or magical vampire or zombie powers (no, I’m not kidding, although of course you already know that), aren’t usually very satisfying. Building a story around a fictional character who lives in the same world as a historical personage offers a blank canvas, and for me, anyway, gives much more scope for storytelling.
I think the trick, if one is going to use a fictional protagonist, is to make the fictional character truly the center of the story, with his or her own desires and needs, passions and hurts and joys and sorrows. The historical personages must be supporting characters—and you know, that gives the writer a chance to really look at a historical personage in a fresh, slightly different way. A not-such-a-big-deal way. Because history looks back and sometimes makes individuals more dramatically central than they very well may have been in their own time.
I love all kinds of historical fiction, both with and without fictional protagonists. It’s the history that makes it magical—the sense-drenched presence of another time and place. I love to find new ways to look at real personages from history, to read about them clothed in flesh and blood and flaws and foibles and not as just as names in history books. But I also love the idea that there may be people—call them fictional characters if you will—we’ve never met and stories we’ve never heard before, living their lives around the edges of known history.
The Flower Reader makes its fictional protagonist Rinette Leslie central to her own story, and takes a glancing look at Mary Stuart in the process. For more information, visit Elizabeth Loupas’s website at www.elizabethloupas.com.
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I reviewed THE FLOWER READER here a few weeks ago. No need for flowers for me to predict that you'll be swept up in Elizabeth's imaginative yet historically-grounded story!
To celebrate the publication of THE FLOWER READER, Elizabeth has generously offered to supply a handmade bookmark to one lucky reader. The custom-made bookmark is signed and numbered by flower artist Lesley Hegewald and made of real pressed flowers and leaves. Elizabeth will include a note identifying the flowers used and explaining their meaning in Rinette's lush world of floromancy.

If you are interested in entering the drawing, please comment on this post with your email address. Entries may be posted until 11 pm PST on Sunday, April 14, 2012. Winner's name, chosen at random, will be posted on Monday, April 15. Good luck, and best wishes to Elizabeth on her launch day.




Once thievish Love the honeyed hives would rob,
When a bee stung him: soon he felt a throb
Through all his finger-tips, and, wild with pain,
Blew on his hands and stamped and jumped in vain.
To Aphroditè then he told his woe:
'How can a thing so tiny hurt one so?'
She smiled and said; 'Why thou'rt a tiny thing,
As is the bee; yet sorely thou canst sting.'
Theocritus, Idyll XIX
