UK/AU/NZ

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

This week, we’ve finally broken away from the letter “K” and Daughter of Blood’s stranglehold on the About the Characters action: yep, the letter “L” is getting a look in at last, and The Gathering of the Lost is back in the game. 😉

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USA

Lady Bonamark: co-ruler of the Bonamark, in the Southern Realms’ dukedom of Emer

“…so the Normarch company had been escorted south to Bonamark, then traveled on with the Marklord’s retinue. Ghiselaine and her companions were swept into Lady Bonamark orbit, riding at the front of the cavalcade and sleeping in a large, richly furnished pavilion at the center of the camp.”

~  from © The Gathering Of The Lost, The Wall of Night Book Two: Chapter 30 — The Welcome Cup

On reflection, the post title should probably be: “The Boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse” by Charlie Mackesy — with a segue to Twitter… O-o” 😉

But not too O-o in this case, I think, and with plenty of 🙂

I feel a little remiss in not having mentioned this wonderful book by Charlie Mackesy here earlier, as I was given it last Christmas and found it delightful.

It’s  an ‘inspirational’ book of combined text and illustrations, centered on the journey of four chance-met companions. Yes, you guessed it: the boy, the mole, the fox, and the horse, encountered in that order. The four are probably best summarised by author and artist Charlie Mackesy in his introduction:

“The boy is full of questions, the mole is greedy for cake. The fox is mainly silent and wary because he’s been hurt by life. The horse is the biggest thing they have ever encountered, and also the gentlest. They are all different, like us, and each has their own weaknesses.”

Together (in the best epic tradition, too), they go on a journey. The book is about the journey and about friendship, about being together and learning from each other, and also to know ourselves. It’s full of wisdom, and beauty, and kindness, encapsulating some great insights without being saccharine. A few I particularly like include:

“One of our greatest freedoms is how we react to things.”

“Nothing beats kindness,” said the horse. “It sits quietly beyond all things.”

“The greatest illusion,” said the mole, “is that life should be perfect.”

Imho, “The Boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse” is well worth reading at any time, both for the words and the illustrations, but may be even more worthwhile in our current times.

And that Twitter segue? Well, that comes from the fox:

“To be honest, I often feel I have nothing interesting to say,” said the fox.

Tbh, that is often how I feel when on the river-in-spate of opinion, information, images, interactions, and spam that is Twitter!

Then again, on the other hand, like the four characters of Charlie Mackesy’s book, I feel I’ve met some very special people via Twitter, and seen fabulous images of places, artefacts, and people that might never have crossed my horizon otherwise:

“Sometimes all you hear about is the hate, but there is more love in this world than you could possibly imagine.”

A different sort of “grr argh”

In writing a multi-book story, there are always moments of what I, borrowing from the Buffy ‘verse, describe as moments of “grr-argh”—which in Buffy is what happens when the unwary encounter a vampire. Well, the vampire goes “grr-argh” (or some variant thereof) and the unwary runs away screaming (if they’re lucky…)

Inclusion…

In less elevated environs, such as those surrounding the writing of books, they could also be called moments of hair-tearing, or alternatively, head-desking.

Continuity errors are a reliable source of such moments, i.e. when the author realises they can’t do x-y-z here, as long planned, because way back whenever, the character or characters did a-b-c under the same or near-similar circumstances. So to do x-y-z now would be inconsistent: shock, horror. (Actually, I do in fact, regard continuity errors with ‘fear and loathing.’ Just saying.)

…in any of these…

Another moment-of-headdesk relatively recently was discovering that a minor but fun anecdote/fact I have consistently edited out of the previous three manuscripts because it wasn’t vital to their storylines (and reducing overall word count always a pressing consideration), would have made a really great set-up for something not quite so minor in WALL #4… Headdesk indeed!

…could’ve been good…

This should not, by the way, be confused with that far more major dilemma “writing oneself into a corner.” It just means the author (yep, that’s right: me!) has to work a little harder in this case, to build the setup within this book. Still, definitely a tad frustrating, although probably unsurprising given it is a multi-book story.

Heigh ho… Or to put it another way, just another regular day in the life literaire. 😀

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Previous Inside The Writing Life Posts:

• A Little About The Writing Itself
• About Those Muses, Then…
• Naturally Self-Isolating
• Writing Novels, Posting Blogs
• Another Milestone Ticked Off
• A Game Of Two Halves
• Further Reflection on Writing Transitions
• Fun With Friends

“[Your book is not about] what happens to the people on the page: it’s about what happens to readers in their hearts and minds”

~ Gordon Lish

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When I first read this quote, I felt one hundred per cent agreement. I thought, “Wow, that’s so true!”

And then, I thought, “Yes, but the two aren’t wholly disconnected. They can’t be, because in order for something to happen to readers’ hearts and minds, something of reasonable moment does have to happen on the page.”

Nonetheless, the quote speaks to me because I feel that a story can’t just be a matter of ‘this happened, then this happened, and then that happened.’ It’s all about the feeling, within and between the characters, which in turn works on the reader, to engage, or repel, or enthrall, depending on the story…

So I come back to loving the quote! 🙂

In terms of who Gordon Lish is, he is an American writer and editor, born in 1934, with a long career as editor with outlets/organisations such as Esquire, Knopf, and the Quarterly.

USA

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

At present, we’re still very much in Daughter of Blood territory—but this is the very last entry for the marvellous letter “K.” 🙂

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UK/AU/NZ

Kylin: an attendant to Lady Myrathis, a Daughter of the House of Blood and the bride pledged to marry the Earl of Night

“Completely unsuitable, of course.” A voice spoke from the adjoining dayroom, and Myr recognized the speaker as Kylin, another of her new attendants. A smothered laugh followed…

Kylin is like Kolthis, Myr thought: she may not actively intend me to hear, but she doesn’t care if I do.

~ from Daughter of Blood, The Wall Of Night Book Three – Chapter 20, Emissaries of Night

I wasn’t always a reader of detective novels and police procedurals, but was introduced to them by my sister, primarily through Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender novels. I’m still not a big reader in the genre, but there are some great characters and stories out there to be discovered. Plus when you’re (“one is” 😉 ) writing in one field, i.e. fantasy (but even more specifically at present, epic fantasy), reading a completely different kind of story can be really enjoyable, as well as relaxing.

So when a friend, who also just happens to be the local rep for Macmillan, offered an advance copy of The Darkest Evening, the latest and ninth novel in the Vera Stanhope series by Ann Cleeves, I was not going to say “no.” No indeed!

For those who may not know (whether from the books or television series), Vera Stanhope is an eccentric, middle-aged, Northern English, Detective Inspector. Both Ann Cleeves’ two major detective series, Vera Stanhope and Shetland, are in what I think of as the “Kurt Wallender” style of detective fiction. The main characters are police officers (as opposed to private detectives like Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie—recently discussed here—or Lee Childs’ Jack Reacher) but the focus of the story, and the series, is as much about the personality and private life of the officer, as well as their relationships with their colleagues, as it is about the crime and “whodunnit.”

Despite these similarities, if detective fiction is a continuum, then I believe Ann Cleeves’ novels sit closer to those of Kate Atkinson than they do to the works of Henning Mankell, or Lynda La Plante’s Prime Suspect. In the latter two cases, and despite the importance of the character interactions, the crime and the unravelling thereof remain front and centre of the storytelling.

In Ann Cleeves’ novels, and Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie series as well, the crime, its perpetrator, and the solving thereof, are far less important to the story (imho) than the internal life of the main character. In this case that’s Vera, her close colleagues (chiefly Joe Ashworth and Holly Jackman) and the people most closely associated with the crime, either through proximity to the scene or knowledge of the victim. Their lives, motivations, and secrets, are what the story is about, rather than the architecture of the crime and psychology of the killer. Although the latter elements do come into it, they’re just not as central to the story as they would be in some other types of crime fiction.

I think the character studies, which also include family and community dynamics, are what I really like about this style of fiction. In this particular story, the world is small: a country house, those most closely associated with it, and the nearby small town—to the extent the network of the crime extends there. Despite this restricted canvas, I’m not sure I would describe The Darkest Evening (or the Vera Stanhope series generally) as “cosy mysteries”: there’s a little too much realism to the character studies for that.

I realise that I’m not telling you much about the actual plot, instead focusing on what kind of story it is—which is what I believe is most important in this case. Being detective/police procedural fiction, it’s a given that there is a crime (in this case a murder), suspects, and an investigation. In The Darkest Evening, both the scene of the murder and some of those present are directly connected with Vera’s own past, which enables the series to develop alongside the specific story being told. Otherwise, if you like the sound of the character-driven storytelling, I can only encourage you to dive in and read. J

As you have probably gathered, I am reasonably confident that if you enjoy Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie novels and Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender series, as well as TV shows like Broad church—and of course the Vera Stanhope and Shetland television series—then you’ll enjoy The Darkest Evening.

To confirm, I read an uncorrected proof copy (373 pp) of The Darkest Evening, supplied by the publisher’s representative.

USA

My last About The Characters post featured Koris, a marine escorting Lord Nimor, the Sea House’ envoy.

Posting about Koris recalled a conversation with a friend away-aways back, who was puzzled about why I called the Sea House soldiers “marines.” Her puzzlement chielfy arose because she thought marines were, by definition, specifically a US military corps.

My reply was that, in fact, “marines” is precisely the right term for troops trained to serve on land or sea, in the same way that “sailors” or “mariners” refers to those that sail in ships. So although I could make up a term, which I would then have to explain, it seemed far easier just to use the established term, exactly as I have with “sailors”, “mariners”, “guards”, “warriors”, “knights” et al, throughout the trilogy.

In The Wall Of Night series, Sea is the Derai House (think clan, or even nation) dedicated to ships, the sea, and keeping the Derai Alliance’s maritime trading routes open. In addition to the mariners that sail the ships, Sea also fields soldiers dedicated to fighting on those ships, but also capable of fighting on land.

Hence Koris, in Daughter of Blood, is one of the marines escorting the Sea House envoy, Lord Nimor, in a land-based journey.

UK/AU/NZ

Historically, marine corps go back as far as Roman times, with ship-based infantry being used to invade opposing ships. The Venetian maritime empire employed “Fanti de Mar” (i.e. sea infantry)  on its vessels, a practice adopted by both the Spanish and Portugese in the 1500 and 1600s—both the precursors of modern-day marine corps in those countries.

White it’s true that the US Marine Corps is probably the most famous such corps currently, the UK has also had Royal Marines as part of the Royal Navy for many centuries. The UK marines played a particularly prominent part in the Napoleonic wars, taking part in several significant land-based incursions as well as playing a major part in battles such as Trafalgar.

Their motto, Per Mare, Per Terram, translates as “by sea and by land.” The Royal Marines remain part of the Royal Navy, whereas the US Marine Corps are a distinct branch of the armed services, although still (as I understand it) part of the Department of the Navy.

At any rate, I hope this potted history is sufficient testament to “marine” as a common term for (originally) ship-based infantry uses in both sea battles and amphibious operations—exactly like the Sea House marines in The Wall of Night series. 🙂

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done a Gorgeous Words post, but I can think of absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t dip back in, and add to, an earlier post series — or more of a mini series in this case. 🙂

Especially when the words are as gorgeous as Laini Taylor’s in Strange The Dreamer (2017) — and her earlier series that started with Daughter of Smoke and Bone, to be honest.

I was hunting for books #2 and #3 of Kate Elliott’s Court of Fives series, having loved #1 and also in order to ensure no gaps when I discussed the world (Efea) in my worldbuilding series on Supernatural Underground — see The Many Worlds of Kate Elliott. (Just ICYMI 😉 ) In the process of snaffling them from the shelves of the awesome Tūranga, Christchurch’s new public library, I spotted Strange the Dreamer, so grabbed that, too.

A great decision, as it turned out, because I was pretty much hooked from the get-go. (I am still reading currently.) Part of that was definitely the language, which is always an important part of what speaks to my heart in both reading and writing. The language doesn’t have to be lush to be gorgeous — Ursula Le Guin’s spare, elegant prose also fits the bill, but there does have to be power in the language and the way the author puts the words together.

I believe Laini Taylor’s prose is lush, in the most positive sense of that word (e.g. luxuriant, abundant, sensory), with poetic rhythm, glorious imagery, and a real knack for evoking emotion and setting.

Here are just a few examples:

“On the second Sabbat of Twelfthmoon, in the city of Weep, a girl fell from the sky.

Her skin was blue, her blood was red.

She broke over an iron gate, crimping it on impact, and there she hung, impossibly arched, graceful as a temple dancer swooning on a lover’s arm. One slick finial anchored her in place. Its point, protruding through her sternum, glittered like a brooch. She fluttered briefly as her ghost shook loose, and torch-ginger buds rained out of her long hair.”

I felt the juxtaposition of the poetic with the brutality of the scene made it more powerful, while also evoking regret and a sense of the ephemeral—at the same time establishing the mystery associated with blue skin and falling from the sky.

I also liked:

“The Angelus rang, its bronze voice pouring through the sheepfold and over the orchard walls in slow, rich waves.”

Again, very evocative.

“The black trees danced. His breath-ghost scudded away on a gust, only to be replaced by another. His shadow splayed out huge before him, and his mind gleamed with ancient wars and winged beings, a mountain of melted demon bones and the city on the far side of it—a city that had vanished in the mists of time.”

It may not work for you, but I feel as if I’m there with the protagonist, Lazlo, living his dream of conflict and glory.

Anyway, if gorgeous words are your thing and you haven’t yet read Laini Taylor, it may be time to give her writing a go. By way of further recommendation, I note that Strange the Dreamer is a Printz Honor Book and the Daughter of Smoke and Bone series were New York Times bestselling works.

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The prior posts in the Gorgeous Words mini-series are:

• Mary Stewart and Madam, Will You Talk
• Mary Renault and The Praise Singer
• Guy Gavriel Kay and Tigana
• Barbara Hambly and The Ladies of Mandrigyn
• Patricia McKillip and The Riddle-Master Of Hed

w00t! Tis 1 October time and you know what that means!

Yup, you got it: it’s time for my next Supernatural Underground post on Worldbuilding in Fantasy.

This month it’s lucky post #9 and I’m featuring another master worldbuilder, the impressive Kate Elliott. Not least because I’m honing in on not just one world, but many…

To find out more, click on:

Year of Worldbuilding in Fantasy #9 — The Many Worlds Of Kate Elliott

Tis that time of year again: just as the Northern Hemisphere (NH) year is “closing in” to autumn, with all its colour, followed by winter (yes, indeed-y, “winter is coming” for NH folk) we are starting the swing into spring.

Although last Wednesday, rather than any business of future arrival, the temperature gauge suggested summer was well and truly here!

Since then, the weather has generally reverted to vernal, while remaining mild where I live, but everywhere I look we’re well into spring, especially on the blossom front. And my daffodils have been and gone…

The cherry blossom walk, in Christchurch’s Hagley Park

For today, I’m sharing a few pics of cherry blossom in Hagley Park, but also of kowhai, which is a NZ native tree, and also endemic to this country. In addition, I have a recent photo of a rhododendron, in a misty shot of Christchurch’s residential red zone (i.e. deliberately de-populated post the 2010-2011 earthquakes.) Plus some end of winter / early spring flowers from the garden.

Kowhai, which is a forest fringe plant

Just as a change from writing and/or reading books, genre in literature, television, or film, and—of course, though I’d much rather not—Covid 19. 🙁

Kowhai flower detail

Speaking of the dread Covid, it’s great to be back in Level 1 here in Christchurch.

Rhododendron in the mist…

Although given some of the continuing mysteries, but also the latest resolves, around the recent Auckland-based outbreak, I think the observation of Devi Sridhar, Professor of Global Public Health at Edinburgh University, that “If an indoor setting is poorly ventilated, crowded, and no one is wearing face coverings it’s best to avoid it”, is wise advice. Including for us, here in NZ, in order to minimise future outbreaks, as well as the UK.

Flower power

Assuming one can, of course. :-/ By which I mean, “avoid individually”, although it could equally well refer to minimising societally. 🙁

And on that cheery note, whether you are experiencing spring or autumn, or in more equatorial regions where the changes are less marked, enjoy your week.