The Lady Killers

Words and more words: On historical slang

Ann Parker here, Monday's child for the Lady Killers, picking up the thread on "historically speaking." Thank goodness I don't have to deal with Latin chit-chat since my historical period of choice for the Silver Rush mysteries is 1880s in the U.S. of A.

To help with the language of the times, I sometimes turn to the newspapers of the day and look at the quotes to try and parse out the cadence and some of the slang. And sometimes I get buffaloed and, despite idiom reference guides, etc., have no idea what a particular bit of language means ... or meant (get those tenses right).

Here's a little example I came across a few years ago that continues to bug me to this day. The phrase in question appears in an article talking about the Rio Grande Railroad's plans for dealing with some Leadville folks who refused to grant right-of-way through their property so that the tracks could be built to the site of the town depot. Colorado Governor Hunt is very straightforward in saying that the railroad will not be stopped. (You can read this little article yourself at the Colorado Historic Newspapers website. It's titled "Railroad Racket" and appears in the July 17, 1880, issue of the Leadville Weekly Herald.)

At the end of the interview, Hunt concludes, "...the Rio Grande road doesn't allow bad luck to interfere with its plans very much. Smile? Don't drink? Sorry. Good morning."

Huh? what's this "Smile? Don't drink? Sorry." stuff all about? I also read a similar concluding statement elsewhere ... don't ask me where, but I know I did read it. I'm thinking it might be the equivalent of the rather meaningless "Have a good day"  that's often thrown in to finish a current-day conversation. But I'm not sure. It remains, for me, a minor linguistic mystery circa 1880.

Making your characters talk proper

Jane here, picking up on what Rhys said earlier this week about the problems of getting the language right in a historical mystery.

Some say that I and other writers with settings in the Roman Empire have it easy. We can’t be expected to reproduce the way our characters would have spoken in reality, because of course they’d be talking Latin, or one of the Celtic languages, or perhaps Greek…so, the theory goes, we can do as we please.

If only! Readers are a funny lot. (Not anyone who’s reading this post, of course…) But some people instinctively expect that characters from the ancient past will speak somehow differently, more formally perhaps, using less slang, than is the case with modern English. Yet those characters spoke “modern” Latin or British or whatever when they were alive, and they joked, argued, swore, grieved, rejoiced, in their own everyday speech. It seems to me that if I’m giving my characters dialogue, it must be interesting and acceptable to modern readers; in other words, it must be in modern English.

I personally avoid anachronisms of slang, or try to; I’d never have my sleuth Aurelia use expressions like “play your cards right” or “back to square one.” Some Roman-era authors I can think of are less strict about this, and if their books in all other ways give a good feel for their period, I can turn a blind eye to the too-modern colloquialisms, but they give me a jolt.

For the Roman Empire (say 100 BC to 500 AD) we have very little idea of how ordinary people spoke among themselves. There’s quite a lot of surviving text in Latin, both prose and poetry, but it’s written text, so it’s more formal and grammatical than spoken words, and often marked with an author’s own style. Plays like Plautus’ comedies bring us closer, but they’re still plays, following a poetic structure, and imitating free-and-easy speech, but it remains an imitation.

So to reproduce Latin speech, writers must use guesswork and imagination; that’s what I do, and I enjoy doing it, as anyone must who finds amusement in playing about with words. I like inventing plausible slang – like “back to the starting-gate” as a substitute for “back to square one” – and one reader actually emailed to congratulate me on “opening a new box of beetles”, which made my day.

And that’s how it’ll stay, at least until someone invents time-travel and takes a recorder back to the past. I’ll be at the front of the queue to visit first-century Britannia – after all my years as a radio journalist, that’s only right, isn’t it – and I promise to post a very detailed blog, if I ever achieve it!

 

Talking historical...what's up at the Louvre

Cara here on Friday
but wish I was in the Louvre today
to see this exhibit of the Prints and Drawings of Gabriel de Saint-Aubin 1724–1780
According to www.louvre.fr

"Gabriel was a unique chronicler of bohemian Paris under the reign of Louis XV, Gabriel de Saint-Aubin was a marginal artist who roamed the streets of the capital his entire life, a sketchbook in his hands.

Ever since this artist was rediscovered by the Goncourt brothers, admiration for his keen eye, liveliness of execution, sensuous use of materials and freedom of expression has never waned. Nevertheless, this exhibition marks the first time in nearly a century that the public will be treated to a monographic exploration of the various aspects of the art of Gabriel de Saint-Aubin.

Thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Louvre and The Frick Collection in New York, this exhibition is able to bring together seven of the rare paintings by this artist, a selection of his remarkable etchings and some sixty of his best drawings.

Gabriel de Saint-Aubin belonged to an eclectic family of artists—his father and a brother were embroiderers for the royal court, a sister and another brother were widely noted for their mastery of the draftsman’s art—who proudly recognized his genius.
However, we know very little about how he got his start as an artist, his training, or his private life."

Bohemian life in 18th century Paris...what's not to want to see? Last night I was looking through a book of Marville's photographs taken between 1860-70 before Haussmann cleared much of old Paris and replaced it with the grand boulevards we know today. A century after Gabriel, Marville's black and white photos show the bits of Paris Gabriel knew and were destroyed. Gone the narrow lanes, the old walls of Paris, turreted gatehouses, curious water pumps at every corner the only source of water for each block. The good old days? Probably not if one lived on the sixth floor and had to carry the water up, a fact of life in that era.
Still...here's a wistful nod to the past...
And nostalgia...well, as Simone Signoret once said, nostaliga's not what it used to be...
Bon weekend,
Cara

From Mary Anna--Astronomy and music, all in one package

I'm enjoying my fellow Lady Killers' posts on history and historical fiction, and I really should chime in, since I have a lot of thoughts on the matter.  However, this week, I feel the need to revert to adolescence.  :-)

People who know me know that I'm serious about music.  I have a piano that weighs close to a ton and is worth more than my car.  (That's not saying much, but still.)  I've sung in an acoustic trio and a Dixieland band for years.  Right now, I'm looking to broaden my horizons, so I'm starting a band that will do original blues rock.  I'm the lyricist and "front man."  This should be a hoot.  And I'm talking to a jazz group that occasionally needs a chick singer.

I'm also passionate about science, which has resulted in a degree in physics and an advanced degree in engineering and a telescope in the garage that I'm sad to say is gathering dust.  I'm also making a baby quilt that is covered with planets and nebulae and the space shuttle and satellites.

So imagine my pleasure when I learned last year that Brian May, the lead guitarist for one of my favorite bands in my teen years, Queen, had gone back to school and finished the doctorate in astrophysics that he left to become a world-famous rock star.  I've made sure my twelve-year-old daughter had a intimate understanding of Mommy's music, so I made double-sure she knew about Dr. May's achievement.  I wanted her to know that you can't do everything in this life, but if you set your goals high and work hard, you can do a lot.

Last week, my son called to tell me that his alma mater's website said that Brian May would be speaking at a tribute for his former astronomy professor...and we live maybe five miles from campus.  Now what are the odds I'm not going to take my daughter to see an astronomer/musician?  We were so there.

Since Elton John packed a coliseum here last week, I was afraid there would be such a big crowd of middle-aged rock fans that we wouldn't get in, so we got there very early planning to eat lunch while we waited...only to find an empty auditorium.  I guess middle-aged rock fans don't actually want to hear their heroes talk.  Weird.  So we got the best seats that weren't reserved for astronomers, about five rows back and on the aisle.  As it turned out, there were a lot of astronomers there, but not so many rock fans.  And it's entirely possible that the rock fans who were there were also science groupies, just like me.

My daughter had asked, "Mom, will I understand anything that they say?"  I told her that the event was for the general public, so I expected that the talks would be very accessible, and they were.  The chair of the astronomy department spoke, then Dr. May. (More on that later.)  She followed their talk perfectly, so she was much relieved.  Then the honoree got up...and spoke in Spanish.  :-D  We got a little chuckle out of the fact that neither of us understood anything he had to say.

Dr. May (maybe that sounds funny, but I just think he earned the honorific) talked about his relationship with the honoree, as well as his specialty, the movement of particles in the dust cloud that causes a phenomenon called the zodiacal light.  Being interested in history as well as science, I found his slides showing historical drawings and photos of the zodiacal light to be especially interesting.  And everybody enjoyed the photos taken around 1970 of the the little building clinging to the side of a volcano where he did his research.  Not to mention a couple of photos of him playing an acoustic guitar on the side of that same mountain.

Since the crowd was small, we were able to go up and speak to Dr. May and get our picture made with him.  (Actually, we did that twice, since I forgot to save the photo.  Duh.)  He spoke to my daughter for a moment and asked her if she liked music and whether she sang.  Since he was nice to my daughter, I'm indebted forever.  Then he turned and shook Mommy's hand, too.

So my daugher got to see that even a rock star who has played to crowds of tens of thousands gets nervous.  And she got to see that he did a great job anyway.  And she got to see that it's never too late to learn things, and that you don't have to pick just one thing to do in this life.  On our way home, she said, "Mom, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  Everybody else does."  I told her that everybody else would probably change their minds a few times...like her mother, the engineer-turned-mystery-novelist and Brian May, the astronomer-turned-rock-star-turned astronomer.  She said she was thinking about astronomy.  Or maybe archaeology.  Zoology sounded nice, too.

So Mommy's lifelong desire to promote science and just general intellectual curiosity to her kids, the eldest of whom is a mechanical engineer and the second of whom is well on her way to being a clinical social worker, is paying off.

Mission accomplished.

Here's the photo...the one I saved.

Historical mysteries

There has been a discussion going on for several days now on DorothyL, the online mystery group, about historical mysteries. It started when a member made the claim that he "didn't like historicals."

It was, of course, a sweeping statement but I do see what he meant. I hated history at school. It was taught as great lists of dates, having to memorize kings and queens and almost nothing of the ordinary people and their lives, except for rare events like the great plague of 1667 and the streets echoing to the shouts of "bring out your dead". That was good stuff! So I too might not have thought that I'd enjoy historical novels. But what hooked me was Mary Renault's "The King Must Die." It's about Theseus, Ancient Athens, the Minotaur. It's four hundred pages of pure adrenalin and I loved it.

But then I've read plenty of historical novels I haven't loved. If someone serves me up great chunks of history when characters are supposed to be having a chat, it turns me off. "Do have a flagon of ale." "Why thank you, and I was thinking only this morning about how the Thirty Years war started."
Also if the author attempts to recreate the speech of the time and place. Remember Hemmingway's awful attempt with the thees and thous in For Whom the Bell Tolls?
I simply can't stomach "Forsooth, Sir Jasper I see thou has evil intentions," even though I can read Jane Austen with relish. I don't have such a problem as I write about the 20th century and I actually know how the people spoke. My grandmother was a young woman in the early 1900s and I remember the gentility of her speech (no swear words including damn) and the extremely large vocabulary, and the formality--calling neighbors by their last names etc. So I've attempted to recreate that with Molly Murphy. And as for Lady Georgie--well, I know plenty of people who still live in that world, although the generation below me has adopted a much freer and slangier mode of speech.

For those writing historical novels set centuries ago, I think it's more important to give the feel for the speech--the formality of court manners, for example, the use of appropriate curses and images. Ellis Peters did this so well with Brother Cadfael. As for Roman times, my blogmate Jane Finnis's Aurora comes across as modern in many ways, but that works too as it's told in the first person, with appropriate slang for the time, and frankly we have no way of knowing how Romans chatted to each other
.
The important thing for me is that we're telling a good story and we're creating real people with whom the reader can identify. It's a mystery, so anything that detracts from the flow of the plot should be avoided. I want to give the feel of the period, but I also don't want the choice of words and speech patterns to slow down the action. I want the reader to feel he or she is being transported back to another time. I don't want them to feel they are being shown what it was like in another time.  A delicate balance to be sure, but worth the effort when I get it right.

Rhys Bowen
www.rhysbowen.com

distractions

Carola here, wondering how I ever get anything written. At the moment I'm getting bids on replacing my roof. Last week it was the furnace man. He came to do a regular check-up and found the fan belt had split--it must have just done so as it was working two days earlier--and the pressure was so high something was about to explode. Then there's the annual medical, three of them actually with various doctors, not to mention the dread mammogram. I'm several weeks overdue for the dentist and it's time for the dog's annual check-up and shots. My ballot just arrived (all mail voting in Oregon) and I haven't decided yet whom to vote for. The lawn grew 5 inches in the past three days, and I won't even discuss the growth of weeds. It's time to plant summer veggies. The bird feeders need filling. Although my notion of "dressing up" is putting on jeans and a decent teeshirt, there's always laundry to be done. Cleaning house can wait till just before my son and family arrive for their annual stay. How much more hair can the dog shed in 6 weeks?

But the lilac is in bloom outside my office window, which is at least an incentive for spending some time in my office! Its scent drifts in, mingled with the scent of wallflowers. Grass pollen allergy season approaching--I won't think about that till I start sneezing.

Gotta get to work... Carola

www.geocities.com/CarolaDunn/

PS There's a new Cornwall page on my website--great pics!

Traveling through Time - Part 3

Ann Parker here, Monday's child for the Lady Killers. Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of Jane's comments re: foodstuffs traveling from afar and my time traveling posts, but I've been musing over the Harvey Girls today.

The "Harvey Girls" were the brainchild (so to speak) of a young Englishman, Fred Harvey, who just got plain sick 'n tired of eating the lousy roadhouse food that was the only stuff available during 1870s train travel ... "rancid meat, cold beans, and week-old coffee" is how I once saw it described.

Anyhow, Fred made a handshake deal with the Santa Fe Railway to manage their restaurants. The Santa Fe provided refrigerator cars to transport fresh meat, produce and milk to the Harvey house eateries (a vast improvement over week-old coffee!). But, what made Fred famous was his "Girls." He brought in and hired women between the ages of 18 to 30 of good character to be waitresses. A Harvey Girl had to be single, well educated, neat, articulate, and (very important) of good moral character. According to James Henderson in his book Meals by Fred Harvey, "Harvey Girls were paid a salary of $17.50 per month plus room and board—and gratuities. They lived in dormitories that were always near their work and were chaperoned by a matron who enforced their ten o’clock curfew."

Hmmm. Wonder if there are any mysteries featuring a Harvey Girl? I'd research it now, but it's time to fix dinner for the yammering hordes...
-

The world's gone mad

Jane here, pondering the Alice-in-Wonderland state of the global economy. I’m hardly the first to do that, I know, but just last night I came across a blatant illustration of how crazy it’s become.

Richard and I had been gardening yesterday, and after digging, weeding, planting, lawn mowing, and the rest, neither of us felt like cooking. So we had one of our favourite takeaway meals – fish and chips. For anyone who hasn’t eaten this excellent British fare, I can only say I hope you do some day, because when it’s properly cooked it’s wonderful. Haddock or cod in batter and chips (French fries!) fried in fat (not oil, that wrecks it,) till they are perfectly cooked, piping hot inside and crisp outside.

Nothing crazy so far, but wait. The fish and chips are freshly cooked if the shop is popular – our village one is, so there’s always a bit of queuing-up. In the course of the conversation in the queue (yes, we Brits do talk to one another sometimes!) it emerged that the fish was not, as one might expect, locally caught. We are two miles from the North Sea and we can buy lovely local crab and lobster in season, but the cod and haddock we ate last night had been caught off Iceland. Then it was frozen and sent to China, where it was cleaned and filleted (and presumably at least partially defrosted, which can’t be good,) then re-frozen and dispatched back to be sold by wholesalers in the UK. If that’s not mad, I don’t know what is.

It’s hard to believe, but it’s cheaper for our fish-and-chip shop to buy fish that’s travelled thousands of miles than it would be to purchase local fish. Chinese labour costs are cheap, and I suppose people need jobs over there, while we over here expect inexpensive food. But the long-term price, which we’ll all have to pay, is too high.

Ann posted a few days ago about how our travel habits may have to change as fuel becomes dearer and environmental problems more pressing. Surely our eating habits ought to be changing too. The idea of all fresh foodstuffs being available in Britain all year, a 12-month “season”, really bothers me. I emphasise fresh foodstuffs, those items that have to be flown here. Less perishable items that travel by sea, I can accept; after all we’re an island. But to use planes to deliver luxury foods…in the long term, it doesn’t make sense.

Call me unadventurous, but I don’t actually want to eat strawberries at Christmas or receive a bouquet of roses at New Year. I love both these items, in their proper season, and the fact that you can’t grow them here all year round makes them that much more of a treat. Lots of people clearly want such luxuries on the supermarket shelves continuously, so they are flown in from the southern hemisphere. And we all support the principle of freedom of choice, and the pundits assure us that our purchases are providing income for farmers in poorer parts of the world.

But what are we doing?

And shouldn’t we stop?

after Malice

Now that I'm back for ten minutes, I can reflect on the great time I had at Malice.  It was good to see old friends again, including Rhys.  She has more energy than I do, going on to do more signings.  I just came home to get ready for the next trip.  I leave Tuesday for Michigan.  I'll speak at a book club and then attend the annual medieval congress at Western Michigan University at Kalamazoo.  Yes, Kalamazoo.  There will be over 3000 medievalist from all over the world.  I gave my first paper there in 1973 and will be wearing both mystery and medieval hats there with a "lunch with the author" and a panel on mysteries as well as giving a paper on "Women as Lords in the Crusader Kingdoms" -- if I get it finished.  Then Alan Gordon and I are signing books at Aunt Agatha's in Ann Arbor on Mother's Day (May 11) and The Mystery Company in Indianapolis on Monday, May 12.  After that I'm going home for a while to work in my vegetable garden and maybe get some writing done.
Rhys reflection on travel does point out the contrast between now and the Golden Age of private railway cars and luxury liners.  Even in First Class today they still lose your luggage and you have to get up at 4:00am to get to the airport and then go through a dozen lines, show ID and practically strip to get to the plane.  Of course, in the good old days I'd probably be traveling steerage, crowded in with a hundred other people and sea or car sick the whole time. 
I'll try to report from Kalamazoo next week if I can get a signal. 

Sharan www.sharannewman.com

LA, SF and Paris

Cara here on Friday,

A lot went on this week; a great LATimes Book Festival; tons of panels I missed and all the booths I signed in (Thank you Mysterious Galaxy, BookEm, CrimeTime and the Mystery Bookstore) it was pretty cool to sit next to Harlan Coban but humbling to see the LONG line waiting to sign his books...plus staying with Denise Hamilton and attending the book festival awards and yummy food at the after party with the LALiterati. Returning to SF a standing room only ladies of mystery discussion with our own Rhys, moi and Libby Hellmann at Stacey's bookstore. Tomorrow I'm signing with Domenic Stansberry at my local SF Mystery bookstore and on Monday giving at a talk at the Alliance Francaise in Berkeley but meanwhile
check out this liitle info on the latest photo exhibition in Paris...quite controversial...color photos of Paris under the Nazis and happy people

SCANDALOUS PHOTOS OF HAPPY PEOPLE
One would think that any photos documenting life in Paris during the Occupation would be of great historical interest, but just such a collection has caused great controversy because they were taken by French photographer Andre Zucca for the Nazi propaganda magazine Signal
and show Parisians having fun as they go about everyday life, while ignoring little details of life under Nazi occupation, such as public executions, shortages and other hardships. The exhibition, “Des Parisiens sous l’Occupation,” formerly entitled “Les Parisiens sous l’Occupation” (“some” as opposed to “all”) is open through July 1 at the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris (22, rue Malher, 75004 Paris; tel.: 01 44 59 29 60). The organizers have bowed to public pressure and provided texts explaining that the photos offer an extremely one-sided view of life at the time.

Have a good weekend,
Cara