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Tuesday, October 24, 2017 - 08:11

I'm officially signing people up for my new monthly newsletter. You can sign up here. (You may notice that the sign-up form is hosted on my other website. I'm still working on integrating it with the code on this one. It won't matter for the sign-up process.)

The newsletter is planned to go out monthly, with only the occasional special notification for limited sale prices, unexpected opportunities, and other time-sensitive news. I pledge to you not to annoy you in the sign-up process with pop-up overlays, annoying recapchas or other nonsense. There is an e-mail confirmation process to make sure you really want to sign up and that's all.

Although I'll be sending out an "Issue 0" at the beginning of November to test-drive the system, the major newsletter launch period will be throughout the month of November when I'll be coordinating it with a give-away to celebrate the one year anniversary of Mother of Souls being released. So everyone who signs up before I put the December newsletter to bed will be entered for a chance to win. I promise that no matter how many of my books you've already read, there will be options among the prizes for something you don't have.

Contents

What will I be including? The regular features will be:

  • Recent and upcoming publications
  • Upcoming convention appearances and readings
  • News and excerpts of my current writing projects (no spoilers!)
  • Discussions of my writing process
  • Background information on Alpennia (history, geography, linguistics, sociology, recipes) - both new content and material I've published on my blog previously
  • Fan art (as available, and with permission, of course)

And perhaps the most exciting thing of all, you'll get exclusive access to new Alpennia short fiction when I have stories that fill in background events for the series but I don't have a commercial market for them. These stories will eventually be published in a collection, but only subscribers will get access to them at the time of writing. I don't have any ready to go yet, but there are a number of planned short works that I want to release "in timeline" as the novels come out. And my newsletter subscribers will be the first readers to see them!

If any of that sounds exciting, click the link above and sign up!

Major category: 
Promotion
Monday, October 23, 2017 - 10:00

One of the fascinating and frustrating things about the genre of "transvestite saints," i.e., women (mostly in the early Christian era) who disguised themselves as men in order to participate in monastic devotion, is how thoroughly the stories center and elevate masculinity. One of the repeated motifs is that these gender-disguised women are approved because of the Biblical injunction to "become a man for Christ". That is, they became a more perfect type of Christian by "becoming male". Other female figures in these legends generally play the role of (attempted) seductive temptress or scorned would-be admirer. The saint in question is typically removed from the context of femininity once the change of clothes has signally a category change. So in the legend discussed in this article, there's a valid confusion over whether the forbidden desire that the abbot is trying to prevent with Eurphrosine's seclusion is heterosexual desire for the disguised woman or the equally forbidden homosexual desire for the eunuch she presents herself as.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Gaunt, Simon. 1996. “Straight Minds/’Queer’ Wishes in Old French Hagiography: La Vie de Sainte Euprosine” in Premodern Sexualities ed. by Louise Fradenburg & Carla Freccero. Routledge, New York. ISBN 0-415-91258-X

Publication summary: 

 

This is a collection of papers looking at issues in the historiography of sexuality, that is: how to study sexuality in historic contexts with consideration of the theoretical frameworks being used. In general, the approach is to dismantle the concepts of universals and essences, by which “history” has been used to define and persecute “others.” The papers are very theory-focused around how the study of the “other” points out the narrow and distorted picture of history in the mainstream tradition. One feature that these papers challenge is a clear dichotomy between a pre-modern understanding of sexuality as “acts” versus a modern understanding as “identity”. The papers cover not only queer sexuality by a broader variety of sexualized themes in history.  As usual with general collections like this, I’ve selected the papers that speak to lesbian-like themes, but in this case I’ve included on with a male focus that provides an interesting counterpoint on issues of gender identity.

Gaunt 1996 “Straight Minds/’Queer’ Wishes in Old French Hagiography: La Vie de Sainte Euprosine”

This is an examination of gender and sexuality in a “transvestite saint” legend from France. Saint Euphrosine wanted to remain a virgin and so ran away from home. To help avoid being tracked down by her father, rather than entering a convent, she disguised herself as a man and claimed to be a eunuch to enter a monastery. Sight of her inflames the lusts of the monks such that the head of the monastery requires her to live secluded to prevent sexual temptation. The article focuses both on Euphrosine’s “erotic” relationships with Jesus and the potentially homoerotic reaction of the monks to the disguised Euphrosine.  The question is left open whether this desire is forbidden heterosexual desire (because Euphrosine is “really a woman”) or forbidden homosexual desire, based on surface appearances. One of the conclusions is that even when not overtly female, female saints are still sexualized in medieval literature.

Time period: 
Place: 
Event / person: 
Saturday, October 21, 2017 - 12:48

My brain is about to explode with the learning curve for both Hootsuite (for scheduling routine promotional postings on social media) and Mailchimp (for my new monthly author newsletter). The eventual goal will be to have a widget for subscribing to the newsletter embedded in the website structure itself, but for now, I'm testing out the html code for embedding it on a page. So go ahead and sign up if you want to -- it'll help me test how it works.

I'll post about more detailed plans and incentives for the newsletter later, but my plan is to send out a regular monthly newsletter with writing updates, information on convention appearances, reminders of forthcoming publications, and bits of "bonus content" about worldbuilding, how the series developed, things that didn't make it into the published books, and so forth. So...[I take a deep breath]...let's see how this works.

ETA: OK, that was so clearly not going to work I just deleted it. Sorry about any confusion.

Major category: 
Promotion
Saturday, October 21, 2017 - 12:41

Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 24 (previously 15c) - Book Appreciation with Caren Werlinger - transcript

(Originally aired 2017/10/21 - listen here)

(Transcript commissioned from Jen Zink @Loopdilouwho is available for professional podcast transcription work. I am working on adding transcripts of the existing interview shows.)

Heather Rose Jones: Last week, we had Caren Werlinger on the show to talk about her own historic writing. In this segment, she’s here to talk about historically based works that she particularly enjoyed. So, Caren, why don’t you tell us about some other historic novels with lesbian characters that you have really loved or that were influential on you?

Caren Werlinger: Well, I already mentioned Patience and Sarah as being very strongly influential. It was the early 1980s when I discovered lesbian fiction and one of the other books that stood out in my memory, well, it stood out for me at the time, not just in my memory, as being a book that was so well-written and not necessarily happy, but well-written. And that was The Price of Salt by Claire Morgan. Now we know that that was Patricia Highsmith writing under a pseudonym, but at the time the version that I had was still written under pseudonym of Claire Morgan. Even though it was historical for me then and it would be historical for us reading it now, it wasn’t historical for her at the time she wrote it.

H: Yeah, it was semi-autobiographical as I understand it.

C: It was, it was. But I’ll tell you, when you read that book, when I read it at the time, I was immediately struck by the quality of the writing and the way she put her narrative together and the way she drew those characters. You could feel the connection between Carol and Therese. It was just so far above anything else that I had read at that time. That actually was a book that I knew I would be aspiring to write to. To try and meet that level of literary merit. That really stood out for me.

H: And one thing that both those books have in common, The Price of Salt and Patience and Sarah, is that, for their time, they were revolutionary in not requiring tragic endings.

C: This is true, and I didn’t realize that at the time when I first discovered these novels. I can appreciate that now, knowing more of the history of our literature.

H: I know you mentioned Patience and Sarah in our interview, but why don’t you talk a little bit more about how that book inspired you and what it meant to you?

C: One of the things that really stood out for me was what I thought was a very realistic depiction of the family dynamics, trying to rip the two women apart, trying to rip Patience and Sarah apart from each other. They did, in fact, have to be separated for a while, but when they came back together and they made the decision to leave and to be together, there was no sugar-coating of the hardships they were going to face. They knew that they were going to be facing more prejudice, more hostility from people that… just the physical difficulties of journeying further into what was frontier back then in the early 1800s. I can’t remember the specific year, if it was ever actually mentioned, when that book is set, but I know it was when trying to get west of what is current day Rochester was probably total wilderness. It was just, I thought, a very realistic depiction of the difficulties of two women, who were determined in their love for each other and that determination and that stubborn insistence on holding to each other, I thought was just something that really reached out to me and touched me deeply and it has stayed with me all these years. That’s one of the reasons that book is very special to me.

H: Well, thank you for sharing your classic favorites with us. I’ve really enjoyed hearing what you have to say about them.

C: I know that contemporary romance is probably the best-selling genre in lesbian fiction out there, but I really want to encourage people to reach outside their comfort zones a little bit and pick up some historical fiction and see what you think of it. I mean, a lot of it, you will learn some things, you will learn what it was like for people in other eras, but it will, I think, help to give you an appreciation of how much freedom we do have to be as open as we are now, when you read about the difficulties people faced in past eras.

H: Well, thank you very much, Caren.

C: Thank you, Heather.

Show Notes

In the Book Appreciation segments, our featured authors (or your host) will talk about one or more favorite books with queer female characters in a historic setting.

In this episode Caren recommends some favorite queer historical novels:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Links to Caren Werlinger Online

Major category: 
LHMP
Friday, October 20, 2017 - 07:00

(I recently did a podcast on the topic of female highwaymen in history and literature, and the motif in modern lesbian romance. This is one of several reviews resulting from my reading for that podcast.)

Mask of the Highwaywoman by Niamh Murphy aims to be a fast-paced romantic thriller punctuated not simply by double-crosses but triple and even quadruple crosses. It doesn’t successfully achieve that goal, unfortunately. Evelyn Thackeray is traveling to visit friends in advance of her upcoming marriage to a business associate of her widowed father when a band of highwaymen--and one highwaywoman--stops the coach she’s traveling in. Robbed of her money and a locket that Evelyn risked the anger of the highwaymen to try to keep, she’s now stranded penniless in a village, offering to work at an inn in exchange for a room for the night...and then Bess, the highwaywoman, climbs through her window out of the darkness.

The story uses a collection of popular highwayman story tropes: the soft-hearted thief, the keepsake stolen and then returned as an excuse to meet again, the sudden inexplicable attraction to an outlaw. It tries to add in the sort of off-balance, constant shifts of loyalty and reliability that make Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith such a roller coaster ride. But Murphy’s story never managed to make any of the scenarios plausible enough that it seemed reasonable to me for Evelyn to buy into them.

Evelyn and Bess’s relationship flips regularly between love at first sight and reflexive assumptions of betrayal the moment anything goes awry. Evelyn never seems to settle into a fixed character, but wavers between several personalities, none of them particularly likeable. Rather than a coherent plot, we get a sequence of dramatic emotional scenes linked by a repetitive string of chases and escapes. Much like a “Perils of Pauline” serial, every chapter seems to end with Evelyn either knocked unconscious, fainting, or metaphorically falling off a cliff.

A brief literary reference suggests that the story is set in the mid 18th century, which would have been hard to guess from the fairly generic descriptions of the countryside and everyday culture. There were various plot points that felt at odds with the setting, but it seems unfair to judge the story as serious history rather than an entertaining romp. I just wish it had been more entertaining.

Major category: 
Reviews
Tuesday, October 17, 2017 - 07:47

Having listened to the promotional strategy advice of a wide variety of people, I'm planning to accomplish two things this weekend. One will be to set up Hootsuite (or some equivalent social media manager, but that's the one people seem to prefer) to handle automated promotional reminders that I rarely have the emotional energy to do manually. The other will be to set up an opt-in (of course!) newsletter for fans and readers to provide both a direct way to communicate announcements and other information, and to provide special content in exchange for access to attention. I figure to aim for absolutely not more often than once a month except for things like unexpected special sales (which I never know about in advance). Maybe less often than once a month, we'll see. I have a hard time planning these things because I'm not a newsletter reader myself, so I have to figure out what works for people who are.

So what sort of content will the newsletter provide? A lot of it will be just basic information:

  • Upcoming/New publication information
  • Upcoming appearances
  • Current projects

But I'll also be offering some special content not available to people who don't subscribe to the newsletter. And that's where you come in. Here are some ideas of my own, plus suggestions people have made online. Which of these would entice you to sign up for and read a newsletter? What other content would entice you?

  • Worldbuilding information (Alpennian language, geography, history, etc.)
  • Snippets of work in progress (no spoilers!)
  • Exclusive previews of Alpennian short fiction (stories that will eventually be released either free or as a collection, but that I'm not trying to sell individually)
  • Discussions of my writing process (for example, I kept a diary of how the plot of Daughter of Mystery developed as I was drafting it)
  • Alpennia fan art (with the artists' permissions, of course!)
  • Access to Alpennia swag (there is none yet, but I have some ideas percolating -- what would you be interested in?)

Let me know what you think. I'm still trying to get my mind around the psychological aspects of doing a newsletter and how it would differ from my blog, other than providing me with a list of people who have expressed a particular level of commitment and interest to following my writing.

 

Major category: 
Promotion
Monday, October 16, 2017 - 14:00

This article only scratches the surface of the peculiar fascination that emerged in the Renaissance around physiological ambiguity and gender identity. If one picks through the dubious concepts of anatomy and the strong binarist and heteronormative positions of both medicine and the law, there are some interesting developments in attitudes toward subjective gender identity.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Daston, Lorraine & Katharine Park. 1996. “The Hermaphrodite and the Orders of Nature: Sexual Ambiguity in Early Modern France” in Premodern Sexualities ed. by Louise Fradenburg & Carla Freccero. Routledge, New York. ISBN 0-415-91258-X

Publication summary: 

 

This is a collection of papers looking at issues in the historiography of sexuality, that is: how to study sexuality in historic contexts with consideration of the theoretical frameworks being used. In general, the approach is to dismantle the concepts of universals and essences, by which “history” has been used to define and persecute “others.” The papers are very theory-focused around how the study of the “other” points out the narrow and distorted picture of history in the mainstream tradition. One feature that these papers challenge is a clear dichotomy between a pre-modern understanding of sexuality as “acts” versus a modern understanding as “identity”. The papers cover not only queer sexuality by a broader variety of sexualized themes in history.  As usual with general collections like this, I’ve selected the papers that speak to lesbian-like themes, but in this case I’ve included on with a male focus that provides an interesting counterpoint on issues of gender identity.

Daston & Park 1996 “The Hermaphrodite and the Orders of Nature: Sexual Ambiguity in Early Modern France “

The late 16th and 17th century fascination with hermaphrodites would give the impression that such persons were common. As well as the volume of discourse on the topic, the nature is different from previous medieval discussions and later early modern ones. The opinions and positions are contradictory, even when limited to the medical community, and include both formal and informal expertise (e.g., surgeons versus midwives). The focus of this article is specifically on the discussions of learned physicians, in order to narrow the range of variables.

Classical opinions fell in two general camps. Followers of Hippocrates and Galen considered hermaphrodites to be truly intermediate in sex, neither male nor female, although a spectrum was recognized that included effeminate males and masculine females. The Aristotelian view was that hermaphrodites had both male and female genitals but that the “true gender” of the individual would be apparent from temperament and essential personality. (One might summarize these as the “neither” and the “both” models, with reference to binary gender.)

Medieval Arabic medical manuals and the European texts derived from them discuss surgery to “treat” hermaphrodites, but this raised the question of identifying the “true” sex that was to be the output of the surgery. In general, medical literature of the medieval era avoided moral judgments, in contrast to medieval philosophical literature which viewed gender ambiguity more negatively.

Beginning around 1550, medical literature began addressing the theological and moral implications of gender ambiguity. For example, Paré whose discussion of hermaphrodites in the context of birth defects then slides sideways to discuss sex between women and then to examples of women transformed into men.

This shift in the moral tone of the discourse was accompanied by a focus on the Hippocratic model that saw hermaphrodites as a midpoint in a continuum of gender, situated between the effeminate man and the masculine woman. This positioning now linked hermaphrodites to discussions of sodomy and other sexual transgressions, as well as to transvestism. Like those topics, hermaphroditism represented a blurring or destruction of gender boundaries.

The shift to moralizing about hermaphrodites branched out into using biology for titillation. Paré was accused of obscenity by the Paris medical faculty due to his intentional inclusion of prurient material intended to appeal to the growing association of hermaphrodites with lesbians and thus with pornography. Thus, hermaphrodite anatomy became associated with a pointed focus on sex.

The law had no context for taking a neutral approach to the legal status of hermaphrodites. All interpretations required fitting into a strict gender binary. While medieval legal practice assumed there was an “innate” gender identity that could be determined by self-reporting of the individual hermaphrodite, Renaissance practice was deeply concerned with the possibility of deception and fraud and preferred to bring in outside experts to examine the supposed hermaphrodite and proclaim a gender assignment that the law would then impose.

The impact on individual lives of this approach is documented in any number of legal cases. Marie/Marin le Mercis was assigned female at birth but at 21 abandoned female dress, changed to using the masculine name Marin, and announced the intention of marrying a fellow maidservant, a widow named Jeane le Febvre. Marie/Marin was condemned to die for sodomy and cross-dressing, but an expert witness was brought in who testified that Marin had a penis that emerged from the vagina during arousal. The death penalty was avoided, but Marie/Marin was required to live as a woman and not have sex of any kind for two years to determine which gender nature would emerge.

Another case (which may demonstrate class privilege) was that of a lawyer’s daughter who was caught having sex with a woman but then was judged to be a hermaphrodite with a hidden penis. Having been judged to be officially male, the defendant was not only allowed to live as a man but to study philosophy at the university.

Reliance on outside testimony for legal questions of sexual performance (e.g., accusations of impotence relevant to divorce proceedings) was an established practice.  However the use of expert testimony for questions of hermaphrodite gender was new and related to concerns about gender fraud. This concern intruded into the lives of physiologically ambiguous people even when no potential crime was involved.  Such was the case in 1686 in France of Marguerite Malaure who was declared “predominantly male” and legally required to dress and live as a man (under the name Arnaud). Marguerite was strongly opposed to this judgment but had to petition the king to be allowed to return to a female life.

These are only some of the cases that illustrate this conflict between whether the “truth” of gender was to be found in physiology or subjective personal identity. But arguments from subjective gender identity were highly heteronormative and binary, often concluding that the object of sexual desire was a certain evidence for (heteronormative) gender identity. Physiognomy was also consulted to determine “true gender”, evaluating the subject in relation to gender ideals. Did the person have “feminine” or “masculine” features. But the primary emphasis was on the genitals. This was the context in which we see the evolution of the trope of an enlarged clitoris being associated with lesbianism.

Anxiety about hermaphrodites is also contemporaneous with general social anxiety about gender blurring, as exemplified by tracts such as Hic Mulier.

 
Sunday, October 15, 2017 - 19:00

(If you’re unfamiliar with the phrase “the uncanny valley” in visual representation, this Wikipedia article is a useful start, especially the section on computer animation.)

I had something of an epiphany the other day when reading Nalo Hopkinson’s The Salt Roads and following discussions online about a recent lesbian romance novel and contemplating other books in my past that have poked at me in uncomfortable ways around the issue of representation. Representation in books is something of a hot topic these days-- the idea that everyone has a right to see the many facets of their own identity represented in the fiction they read, complicated by the nearly infinite number of intersectional combinations those identities can create.

My epiphany is this: sometimes I take more joy in a book that comes nowhere near to representing my own specific identities as long as it clearly shows a world in which I could exist. That is, where the individual points of representation are distributed widely enough across the spectrum of the possible that I can find myself in the interstices. Sometimes this can be more satisfying than a book that comes much closer to representing my own specific intersections and yet erases the possibility of some essential aspect.

The world represented in The Salt Roads is one in which it is an assumed and given fact that women have connections with other women. That those connections will be of widely varying types. And that those types will include a range of romantic, sensual, and erotic connections. The Salt Roads is a book that makes me feel like I exist somewhere within that world even though I have very little in common with the protagonists on the basis of culture, ethnicity, economic status, and life story. It isn’t that the characters represent me--none of them come close to representing my own romantic and sexual experiences--but that the world has a place for me within it.

What do I contrast this with? Books where women live lives of isolation. (Or where women don’t exist as multi-dimensional human beings at all.) Where all their key relationships are to men. Or where women are unremarkably exclusively heterosexual in every emotion and action without ever straying from that path. Books where every single character is driven by motivations that I find incomprehensible, with no indication that other possible motivations exist.

You might think that, as a lesbian, I would find a great deal of inclusion and representation within the field of lesbian fiction, but here’s where the other part of my epiphany kicks in. Contemporary lesbian romance--and that’s the core prototype and dominant market presence in the lesbian fiction industry--depicts a world in which women experience a fairly narrow range of types of relationships, interactions, and expectations. There is, as a rule, an expectation that there will be certain types of attraction, that relationships will progress according to certain types of scripts, and that the eventual goal is taken from a specific set of outcomes.

I can hear people saying, “But wait! There’s an incredibly wide variety of personality types and relationship shapes and plot arcs within lesbian romance,” but that comes from looking from inside that set of expectations. You aren’t comparing it to the possibility of what could be. It’s a bit like being a white American and looking at an entire literary genre and seeing all the diversity in it but failing to notice that all the protagonists are white Americans. Or, for a more frivolous comparison, it’s like being excited about the enormous variety of offerings from See’s Candies and failing to notice that they all have chocolate in common. No they don’t! you protest. There’s that one item in the Nuts & Chews box that’s just peanuts in nougat. I’m sure there’s at least one choice that doesn’t have chocolate. My case rests. You aren't thinking about the existence of fresh peaches. Or tomatoes. Or roast beef. You're still thinking in terms of chocolate and not-quite-but-almost-chocolate.

The discussion that was the other half of the inspiration for these thoughts revolves around a recent contemporary lesbian romance novel with the “shocking revolutionary twist” that one of the protagonists is asexual. Now I think it’s a lovely idea to have asexual protagonists in books, though setting them in a formulaic romance may undermine the point a bit for the reading public. I haven’t read the specific book itself, so I’m not talking about whether the topic was handled well or badly in that specific instance. I may or may not read it--I’m not sure I’d enjoy a novel that treats asexuality as an “afterschool special” educational project, given that contemporary romance isn’t really my thing in the first place.

But what struck me was the significant number of readers within the lesbian fiction community whose response was along the lines of, “Wow, this is fascinating, I never knew that such a thing as asexuality existed! I don’t know any asexual lesbians! This introduces me to people and ideas that I’d never encountered before! Thank you for educating me on this topic! Nobody’s ever written about it before.” (Hint: Yes, people have written novels with asexual and aromantic protagonists before. Please don’t erase their existence.)

Let’s get one thing out of the way. Of course you already knew that asexual lesbians existed. You’ve met them, both online and in real life. You just called them “frigid” or “sexually hung-up” or “full of internalized homophobia” or "repressed" or “emotionally unavailable” or any of the other popular labels for people whose erotic response is radically different from yours.

And the people saying this--that they didn’t know asexual lesbians existed--are saying it in online social spaces where people like me have been participating all along. It means that they’ve never seen me. They’ve never actually listened to any of the things I’ve said in those online communities around the topic of representations of desire and sexuality in fiction. I don’t exist for them. It means that every time I’ve interacted with them, they’ve pasted a picture on top of my existence that’s something other than who I am and interacted with that, because they literally didn’t believe that I existed.

And that’s what I mean by books that create worlds that I could exist in. If an author of lesbian fiction literally doesn’t know that asexuality is a possible thing, they certainly aren’t going to write fictional worlds that represent it, or that have a space in which it could exist. That part of the map of human territory won’t be an empty space labeled “here be sea serpents and mermaids” there won’t even be an empty space on the map it could be penciled into.

The third book I’d like to bring into this discussion is Ellen Kushner’s The Privilege of the Sword. I’ve previously spilled a fair amount of ink over how that book was an emotional flash-point for me, because it came so close to being the perfect book for my emotional core...and then it veered sideways and was a perfect book for someone who was not quite me. Reviewing my reaction in the context of the current topic, I think one of the places where it failed me that I hadn’t been able to articulate properly, is that the female same-sex relations that I’d seen represented in the world of Riverside were fairly narrow in scope--in part because of the relatively small number of examples. Riverside is a world where it seems like half of the men have been in some sort of romantic or sexual relationship with another man, but whatever the author’s intent, we don’t see a similar normalization of women’s relationships. For that matter, we don’t see a full range of women’s relationships at all. To quote my post-review analysis:

“There’s a point in Katherine’s sexual explorations with Marcus where a point is made about ‘having sex with your best friend’ and I think that was when it hit me that The Privilege of the Sword doesn’t seem to show women having serious, genuine friendships with other women. Men have deep and binding friendships with men. Men and women can have genuine friendships as well as relationships based on desire or familial bonds. But women’s friendships are shown as being contingent (“do our husbands get along?”) or as play-acting (Katherine and Artemisia) or as part of power jockeying (the two actresses).”

Here was an excellently-written story of a daring, resourceful, and passionate young woman, and it existed in a world where women don’t seem to have genuine friendships with each other--much less enduring passionate feelings for each other. It came so close to hitting my personal target and then denied the existence of things that are at the core of my being. (Note: the Riverside serial Tremontaine has been a bit better about representing a variety of women’s interpersonal and same-sex romantic interactions.)

So if you’ve ever wondered why my reading habits and my reviews don’t align on a simple “lesbian books good, non-lesbian books less good” axis, it’s because I’m not only a lesbian, and all the other parts of who I am are just as important to me as that one. In the aggregate, they are more important. I’m not interested in reading and praising lesbian novels that nevertheless leave me feeling like an alien from another planet whose existence the author doesn’t quite believe in.

Major category: 
Thinking
Friday, October 13, 2017 - 19:40

One of the peculiarities of the podcast is that although the episodes go live on Saturday...that's "Saturday" in South Africa where our fearless leader Sheena lives. Usually it makes for this awkward moment of "do I post the blog the day before?" but since I'm going to be out of the house all day tomorrow, it's a plus this time.

This month's author guest is Caren Werlinger, whose historical stories are often framed by a connection--either mystical or via objects--with a character in modern times. Listen to her talk about how she develops those connections with the past.

And remember that you can find links to all the past episodes of the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast (and to the transcripts, as I get them up) on the Index Page.

* * *

(Transcript commissioned from Jen Zink @Loopdilou who is available for professional podcast transcription work. I am working on adding transcripts of the existing interview shows.)

The Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast: Episode 23 (previously 15b) - Interview with Caren Werlinger

(originally aired 2017/10/14 - listen here)

Heather Rose Jones: This is Heather Rose Jones with the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast. Today, we’re talking with author Caren Werlinger, who writes a variety of historic takes on fiction with lesbians in it. Or with women who could be interpreted as lesbians. Welcome, Caren.

Caren Werlinger: Thank you, Heather, it’s nice to be here.

H: So, I’ve been going over your very extensive catalog of novels and there are two groups that I’d like to talk to you about. First off, you have a pair of novels, not a pair in a series sense, but they have a similar take on an approach to history where a relatively contemporary character encounters history through some artifact or family connection. That would be Miserere and Neither Present Time. Would you like to talk about what those novels are about and why you took that approach?

C: Miserere is a novel that’s set primarily in the summer of 1968, which was an extremely turbulent period of time in American history and the whole novel was actually inspired by a memory I had of a house that we looked at and my parents thought about buying when I was, maybe, 9 years old. I loved that house, I have a very clear picture of it in my mind. It was weather-beaten, had knee high grass, and it was apparently too much of a fixer-upper for my parents to want to take it on. But that house really caught my imagination and I had always wondered what kind of stories it could tell.

In setting up this novel, my main character is a ten-year-old girl named Connemara Faolain Mitchell. She’s of Irish descent. When her father goes MIA in Vietnam, she and her mom and her little brother pack up and move to the family home in West Virginia. She begins to experience these very vivid dreams that slowly start unspooling the story of her ancestor who came to America at the age of thirteen as an indentured servant with her older sister. It was at the tail-end of the famine, 1850s, and as the story unfolds, we go back to the 1850s and 1860s through Connemara’s dreams to learn what happened to her ancestors when they arrived in America. How the life on the plantation that they were indentured to unfolded, the things that happened as the country was veering into the Civil War, and then dealing with the after-effects of the Civil War. It’s part of what I really, really liked about that particular novel, is that you had these two story-lines that were a century apart but there were so many echoes of continued racial tensions, intolerance, hatred, which, ironically, are now being echoed all over again in this current political climate. That was the basic set-up for Miserere.

In Neither Present Time, that book was inspired by an inscription in an old book that I actually own. I used that inscription, I used that as a jumping off point for this novel. It’s a story of a woman who’s working in a university library, not using her talents and her doctoral degree to the capacity that she should be. She finds an old book with this inscription. It intrigues her, it captivates her imagination, and she begins a search to try and find the people who are mentioned in the inscription; see if she can track them down.

H: I’m interested that you’re talking about the historic settings, so where do the lesbian themes come into this? Are they from the contemporary characters or in the historic settings?

C: Actually, both. In Neither Present Time, the main character, Beryl Gray, this is a contemporary thread to the story, she’s in a relationship with a woman who’s kind of controlling and domineering, but part of her discovery, as the novel progresses, is that she needs to grow into herself. But when she discovers the addressee of the inscription in the old book that she had found, she begins to learn the back-story of a woman who is now in her 90s, who fell passionately in love with another woman in the early 40s, as World War II was dawning.

So, again, we kind of get these two threads woven together in this story. A lesbian love story that began in the 40s and has never, ever waned, and a more contemporary one where Beryl and the old woman, Corie’s, niece, Aggie, find each other and both of them are in need of healing and moving on. So, there are two lesbian stories there.

In Miserere, Connemara’s ancestor, Catriona, disappeared. Nobody really knew what happened to her. There’s a curse on the family and one of the things that Connemara learns through these dreams is that only one female child has survived from each generation since Catriona disappeared. She learns that she is the one who could finally break this curse. We don’t know immediately why it is that she is the one who can break the curse, but as the story progresses, it becomes apparent that the reason she will be the one to understand what happened in the past and to be able to break the family curse is because she’s the only one who has come along who could understand the love that Catriona had for another girl.

H: Uh huh. I have this note on my interview sheet saying, ‘Never, ever, ever waste peoples’ time by asking, So, why do you write about lesbian characters?’ Because, I kind of assume that’s a given with the people that I’m interviewing. But, so, why write about historic stories? What does that do for you as a writer to pick historic settings?

C: I have always wondered more about… When you read stories as a kid, when you read Robert Louis Stevenson, when you read some of the other classics, unless you’re into the Brontës, you’re not getting any female characters. The adventures were all boy stories, they were all full of men and boys doing these exciting things, but girls and women hardly figured into the stories at all. That always kind of bugged me. Like a lot of us, that’s probably why I devoured all the Nancy Drew stories.

H: Yeah.

C: But it just seemed to me that, when I started writing, we’ve always existed, lesbians have always been around. We may not have called ourselves that, we didn’t have that identity necessarily, but that doesn’t mean that we weren’t there. It just seemed like a natural extension of storytelling to include and find ways of telling lesbian stories set in historic settings.

H: Have you always been interested in history, from way back? Or was there something in particular that started you writing historic stories?

C: I’ve always enjoyed writing stories, but… I grew up in Ohio. When I was in 7th grade, my Ohio history teacher, Mr. Black, gave me a book to read called The Frontiersmen, which is by Allen W. Eckert. It was, I think, the middle book of his Wilderness Empire trilogy, which chronicled the early settling of America so most of the books are set in the 1700s. They’re heavily footnoted at the backs. He did an enormous amount of research. He wrote these books, fictionalizing the parts he needed to as far as conversations and things like that, but set within the known historical context. That, to me, I think that was big jumping off point for my love of historical fiction. His writing was compelling, but the fact that everything was so heavily annotated and footnoted at the back of the books – you could look up as much or as little as you wanted – that he took these characters and filled in the missing bits in between the pieces that we actually knew, from letters, or from diaries, or from whatever other form of documentation. I just was like, ‘You know, that’s… I could do that.’

H: Yeah. That sounds a lot like my early experiences with historic fiction because I found that learning history through the stories of specific people, even fictional people, just anchored all the events so much better in my head.

C: It did. I mean, it makes it come alive in a way that it doesn’t when you just read chronicles.

H: Tell me about the most difficult thing you encountered when research the historic backgrounds for your books.

C: A lot of it is just trying to get the small details right. For Miserere, I’ve lived in West Virginia and Virginia for almost 30 years now, so I live in the middle of a lot of that history. The town I live in currently, in Virginia, changed hands 76 times during the Civil War, so we’re right smack in the middle of Civil War history. Half an hour outside of town is an old stone iron furnace that the early settlers used to smelt and make iron. I’ve been surrounded by a lot of that history for decades. Still, trying to figure out--you know Virginia had one of the earlier canal projects along the James river, but it coincided with the coming of the railroad, so the canal never went as far as it was supposed to, as far as it was originally supposed to. But having to look up if my Irish teenagers sold into indentured servitude were being ferried up the James along this canal system… How far did they go? Where did the canal system stop? What kind of tobacco did they grow in Virginia? Which is different from the kind of tobacco they grew in the Carolinas and Georgia. What kind of crops did they grow here? How did plantations work in terms of the division of various levels of the slaves? There were house slaves and they were field slaves. Even though Catriona and her sister were white and Irish, they basically fell into the same category of having been sold. For that book a lot of it was just trying to get little details right because, as you know, Heather, I’m sure, there’s always somebody out there who knows the subject matter you’re writing about as well, if not better than you do, and if you don’t get those little details right, they’ll call you on it.

H: I try to sign those people up as my sources and beta-readers.

C: (Laughter) That’s a good strategy.

H: What about the lesbian side of things? How did you research how these women in history would have understood their desires and their sexuality?

C: That’s a really interesting question and I don’t know that I have a really good answer to that, except through my own knowledge and self-discovery of, well, not even self-discovery because I’m one of those who has always known, from the time I was very, very young. Before I had language for it, that it was girls that I was attracted to. I never pictured myself married to a man, I never fantasized about any of that kind of stuff like other girls do, I guess. But one of the first, before I started writing lesbian fiction, one of the first lesbian novels that I came across that I thought handled that historical aspect of discovering that you are in love with another woman was the novel Patience and Sarah by Isabell Miller.

H: Yes, I’m very fond of that one.

C: It’s set in the early 1800s. It’s definitely set in a period of time where people were not tolerant of any kind of aberration in what they considered to be normal relationships or anything that might have taken them outside the purviews of their very narrow, Christian interpretation of the world. The other thing that fascinated me about that story is that it is based on a real-life couple who apparently did settle in, I think, Western New York, eventually. They were kind of known to be together and it was accepted once they were out in the frontier. That novel was a big influence on my own interpretation and my own writing of women finding each other and falling in love with each other in historic settings.

H: Uh huh. I’d like to jump tracks a little bit here, because your most recent writing project has been very much a history and fantasy cross-over. This is your series The Chronicles of Caymin. You told me that the historic contribution to the setting is 8th century Ireland and then we have dragons and, well, you tell about it.

C: You’re right. I mean, there was a lot happening in Ireland in that era. The Christian monasteries had been established over the prior few hundred years, since St. Patrick started proselytizing in the 400 CE era. But the Vikings were beginning to come on down from the north. They were raiding Britannia and Caledonia, which we know as Scotland. And they were raiding Ireland. We know, from the historical chronicles, that several of the monasteries were raided and sacked several times. I can’t really remember now what gave me the idea of writing a dragon fantasy set in Ireland of this era, but one of the things that fascinated me was realizing that there were such animals in Ireland at one time as the Giant Irish Elk, which are extinct now. Part of the fun of writing this fantasy had been exploring, ‘What if there was a real-life basis for the dragon contribution to Celtic mythology?’

H: What if the dragons just got hunted to death, as it were, you mean.

C: Yeah, exactly. You know, maybe what happened is that we really did have dragons. We know that there was a strong culture of people who believed in magic, maybe practiced magic. You know, a lot of Celtic mythology and folklore is based on those beliefs in things that we would consider magic now, but to them probably were just every day kinds of things. What was happening as Christians tried to force their views against the people who were holding on to the old ways? That was kind of the mix that this fantasy takes place in. Again, from a writing standpoint, one reviewer likened this trilogy to reading a story about the Titanic. We know that the Christians were eventually successful, we know that Ireland became a Christian country, but you had to work within that framework, you know. As I’m writing, there were certain things I couldn’t necessarily violate. I knew I had to end up at a point at the end of the story where the Christians are probably taking over, the people who practice and believe in magic are kind of fading away, so how to write a story that can incorporate all of those elements? That was kind of the fun and the challenge of this trilogy.

H: Setting aside the dragons, because this is the history podcast, what are your three either favorite or most useful, let’s say: what are your three most useful resources for writing the historic aspects of those stories?

C: A lot of it is, as far as the Celtic folklore part, there’s a website and blog kept and run by a woman named Ali Isaacs, who, I mean, she covers almost every aspect of Celtic-Irish folklore that you can imagine, so her blog has been tremendously helpful. A lot of it was flora and fauna kind of research. I mean, what animals and plants. A lot of it was just using the internet, like crazy, to research what plant species were native, what animals were native, you know. At one point I referenced somebody looking like a turtle and then I had to go back to look and yes, there are no turtles native to Ireland, so I had to get rid of that.

H: I know you said that the characters, in terms of the sexuality aspects of these stories, that you have set-up the historic society so that there is not prejudices against particular types of sexuality. Did you try to root those aspects in history or is that part of the fun fantasy side of it?

C: That was more, I think, the fun fantasy side of it.

H: Caren, it’s been lovely to hear about your historic writing and historic fantasy. Why don’t you tell us about your fans and readers can follow you on social media or find out more about you online?

C: Sure. I am on Facebook under Caren Werlinger Author. I can be reached by email at cjwerlingerbooks@yahoo.com. And I have a blog which is cjwerlinger.wordpress.com.

H: Okay, I will include those in the show-notes for people to follow up. It’s been wonderful having on for the interview segment of our show and I hope that you will continue writing wonderful historic stories.

C: Thank you, very much. This has been delightful.

Show Notes

A series of interviews with authors of historically-based fiction featuring queer women.

In this episode we talk about:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Links to Caren Werlinger Online

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LHMP
Friday, October 13, 2017 - 07:00

(I recently did a podcast on the topic of female highwaymen in history and literature, and the motif in the lesbian romance genre. This is one of several reviews resulting from my reading for that podcast.)

Lawrence Hogue’s Daring and Decorum, stands out in the micro-genre of lesbian historic highwaywomen stories for its solid worldbuilding and the deliberation with which it builds the relationship between the two female protagonists, making both their attraction and the obstacles to it believable and solidly grounded in the social history of the times.

The plot follows what seems to be an obligatory formula for the micro-genre: a respectable young woman (though one with a yearning for something beyond her foreseeable fate) is one of the victims of a highwayman’s robbery, protesting the loss of a piece of jewelry that has deep sentimental meaning. The highwayman, in a change of heart, returns the jewelry, prompting (or encouraging) an inexplicable attraction between the two, and the highwayman is (eventually) revealed to be a woman who took to an outlaw life due to a tragic backstory. They, of course, fall in love, struggle with the personal, social, and legal barriers to their relationship, and eventually work their way through to a happy ending. This is actually the generic formula that applies to nearly every lesbian highwayman story I’ve encountered. What Hogue does is flesh it out into a well-written period piece.

The pacing--especially of the middle section where we learn the backstory of our second protagonist--was just on the edge of leisurely, but only because the adventures are being related to another character rather than being experienced in real time. Hogue notes in the introductory material that he was inspired in part by the Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman”, which may add a bit of tension for readers familiar with that work. Certain details of the book’s plot seemed a bit forced to fit the poem’s structure, but possibly not in a way that those unfamiliar with it would notice. Unlike some other similar books, the climax of the story was neither too rushed nor too pat and felt historically plausible as long as one accepts the motivations and actions of a certain third character.

Hogue has a solid grasp of the flavor of early 19th century novels without resulting in any stilted awkwardness of language. His familiarity with the historic and social background raises the book above the “erotic encounter in costume” level that is too common in lesbian historical romance. I’m not a good judge of erotic scenes in books, but those in Daring and Decorum didn’t seem any more awkward or inherently ridiculous than in any other story I’ve read. (Confession: I’m really not a fan of sex scenes in my historic fiction, so I’m not a good judge.)

Content warning: Unfortunately the book got off to a bad start for me with a sexual assault in the opening scene (although it didn’t go beyond groping) which was framed as inspiring the heroine’s erotic desire for the highwayman (much later revealed to be a highwaywoman). Given how much I liked the book overall, I don’t consider that one stumble a fatal flaw, but it’s certainly worth a content warning.

It wasn’t the gender perception issue in the assault scene that bothered me--to some extent when you’re dealing with historic gender-disguise plots in lesbian fiction, it really helps to view the characters as solidly bisexual, because any other framing tends to lead you down some sort of weird telepathic/gender-essentialism road. (The sort that was popular in medieval and Renaissance gender-disguise plots: “It’s ok that she fell in love with someone who she thought was a woman because it was really a man in disguise and she somehow unconsciously intuited this.”) But I digress.

No, what bothered me was invoking the trope that a woman will naturally overlook being forcibly assaulted and will find herself enjoying the assault and later fall in love with the person who assaulted her. Not only did I think that the story could have been made to work perfectly well with a different--or at least much less offensive--interaction, but the assault felt extremely out of character for the highwaywoman, as we later come to know her. It felt like cheap titillation. And given that the reader has no clue yet that this particular highwayman is our love interest (there are several people involved in the robbery), it felt like a slap in the face to readers who came to the book for some escapist woman-centered reading.

That said, most stories in this genre involve a requisite amount of fairly dubious consent, or at least of secretly enjoying a forced erotic encounter. The overall writing quality definitely makes this book worth checking out if you enjoy swashbuckling lesbian romantic adventure.

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