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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!

(The quotes, together with the covers, indicate the books in which the character appears.)

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Kair: a House of Fire cavalry commander

Malian estimated at least fifteen gathered about the long, central trestle…the expressions regarding her ranged from neutral to openly assessing. … Resolution characterized their faces… but she only retained a handful of names: Valadan, tall and stern faced, was second-in-command of Fire, while Kair was a cavalry commander, and Daile had come from the Hedeld fort…Learning them all was going to take time. A night’s rest, Malian reflected wryly, should also help.

~  from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall of Night Book Three: Chapter 38 — Dawn Wind

‘Twas aways away back in 2018 when I promised a Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes post on that stalwart of the genre, the Sidekick—and once I realized this, I decided I had best make up for the long delay immediately. So here it is — ta-da-dum! — the Sidekick!

Heroes and sidekicks

If the farm boy or gal who goes on a quest journey and the prince or princess that finds a destiny are the foundation stones of epic fantasy, then it is a truth universally acknowledged that shortly after setting out on their quest, the protagonist will acquire sidekicks. Sometimes, too, the sidekick become vital to the story in their own right—I’m thinking of characters like Sam here, in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. He even gets to carry the ring for a short time, and saves the day on any number of occasions, but no matter how potent in the story, so long as he remains with Frodo, Sam will always the sidekick and never the central character.

The fact it is possible to make the transition from sidekick to point-of-view (POV) character is illustrated by the hobbits Merry and Pippin. Both start, like Sam, as sidekicks to Frodo, but at the point the fellowship of the ring breaks up and their storyline deviates from that of Frodo, they both become point-of-view characters in their own right.

Since The Lord of the Rings has a significant number of sidekick characters, a similar transition can be observed with Legolas and Gimli, the elven and dwarf representatives in the fellowship respectively. So long as the fellowship remains together, both are clearly sidekicks and relatively minor ones, too, when contrasted with Sam, Merry, and Pippin. When the fellowship diverges, both become sidekicks to Aragorn, as opposed to Frodo, and play far more significant parts in the story.

The Lord of the Rings adopts a classic approach to the epic tropes, which have evolved out of myth, fairytale, and the hero tales of many cultures, and illustrates that the role of the sidekick is always a dynamic one. Arguably, though, the sidekick is as essential to the epic tradition as the hero.

To my mind, this is because one of the primary roles the sidekick plays, beyond straightforward companionship, is that of “foil” to the hero. Sam, therefore, always has his two furry feet firmly on the ground, and offers prosaic hobbit sense when Frodo is tortured by doubt and the weight of the ring. Similarly, an important part of Ron and Hermione’s parts in the Harry Potter series is as a contrast to Harry.

For example, Harry is an orphan and ‘boy alone’, whereas Ron comes from a large, tumultuous, and loving family. Harry (and Ron) are both from wizarding families, whereas Hermione’s parents are ‘muggles’ (without powers), and although Hermione is a hugely talented wizard, she’s also a girlie swot. Harry, by contrast, is much more engaged in the hurly burly of the real world—oh yes, and the quidditch pitch. 😉

Together, though, the diverse talents of the heroes and sidekicks in both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter complement each other. They also achieve far more through alliance and cooperation than the hero would if alone.

And as the mentor, Aerin, points out to Hari in Robin McKinley’s The Blue Sword, “it’s not fair that the heroes get all the adventures and all the glory alone”.  Aerin’s point is that sharing both the danger and the glory builds stronger bonds within the heroes’ and sidekicks’ communities.

The sidekick, therefore, points to the importance of friendship and community in achieving the hero’s goals, even if it’s always the hero who must cast the story equivalent of the ‘deciding vote’ — whether its Frodo casting the ring into Mount Doom or Harry completing the final saving actions against Voldemort’s nefarious plots.

Returning to the point about the sidekick being a “foil” to the hero, the sidekick, or group of sidekicks, also enable insight into and commentary on the hero’s actions through their questions and arguments.  So in David Gemmell’s Waylander, the companions the hero/antihero reluctantly acquires challenge his isolation and indifference to the events around him, with one in particular—the priest Dardalion—transitioning to become the story’s second pov character.

Similarly, in the television version of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s Good Omens, Adam’s ‘gang’ of childhood companions challenge his emerging powers, influencing him against his darker heritage.

The point Dardalion illustrates, similarly to Merry and Pippin, is that in order to remain a sidekick, a character can rarely survive sustained point-of-view time in the story. Sidekicks offer insight into the main characters and heroes, and support the larger quest (not necessarily without grumbling 😉 ) but this works best if the spotlight stays on those central characters.

In terms of my own writing—yes, of course there be sidekicks! In Thornspell, Sigismund’s chief sidekick is Rue, but his childhood associates, Wat and Wenceslas, and the horsecopers, Fulk and Rafe, all qualify as sidekicks.

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The Wall of Night series has multiple point-of-view characters, each of whom has their own sidekicks, such as Garan with his eight-unit—which also crosses over to the Band of Brothers trope. So, too, do the sidekicks the geographer, Carick, encounters among the squires and knights of Emer, in The Gathering of the Lost.

Similarly, in Daughter of Blood, Malian has the hedge knight, Raven, as sidekick, while Kalan acquires a variety through the book: from the boy, Faro, in Grayharbor, to a handful of fellow competitors in the House of Blood honor contest, and a later group of fellow exiles.

It’s epic fantasy after all, and that means heroes—and where there be heroes, the epic tradition insists on sidekicks as well.

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Previous Entries In The ‘Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes” Series:

Introduction: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy—Meet the Tropes

Instalment 1: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes: A Farm Boy/Gal Goes On A Journey…

Instalment  2: A Prince/Princess Finds A Destiny

Instalment 3: Dreams and Portents, Prophecy and Destiny

Instalment 4: “Apocalypse Now”

Instalment 5: Meet The Big Bad

Instalment 6: The Sweep Of Time & Its Twin, War Without End

Instalment 7: Fortunately There was A Portal

Instalment 8: We’re All Going On A MacGuffin Hunt

Instalment 9: Artefacts of Power—And Doom—And Where To Find Them

Instalment 10: The Alchemy Of Numbers

Instalment 11: The Mentor

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On SF Signal: The “Having Fun With Epic Fantasy” Series

1. “Making the Grand Tour” (aka the Road Journey);

2. .”The “Band of Brothers”; and the

3. . “Soul-Sucking Sword.”

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© Helen Lowe

This year on Supernatural Underground I’m celebrating the awe-inspiring and downright inspirational worldbuilding of Fantasy literature,  because worldbuilding is the vital glue that binds the different strands of the genre together. And also because, quite simply, fantasy worldbuilding is So Much FUN!

Year of Worldbuilding in Fantasy # 5: “Ship of Magic” & the Liveship Traders Series by Robin Hobb

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Oh yes, in case I didn’t mention it, there are sentient ships and sea serpents, pirates and dragons, as well as traders, slavers and great powers all contending in the mix, aka much that will appeal to a range of avid readers. 🙂

#YoW YearOfWorldbuilding
#WiF WorldbuildingInFantasy

Yep, it’s autumn here…

Although it’s started to get a little chillier and more autumnal over the past week, here in Christchurch NZ we’ve had some fabulously mild autumn weather over April-May: almost an “Indian autumn”—as opposed to “Indian summer” since the latter is well behind us now with today being the first day of winter. We’ve had some fabulous auutmn colour, too, with the likes of the cherry tree (of the ‘wild white’ variety, nuthin’ fancy-dancy) in my garden putting off its usual autumnal bronze in favor of crimson and fiery scarlet.

But one weekend in early May, while we were still in more Level 3 mode (ie not as restrictive as full lockdown but still reasonably so), the weather was positively balmy, so much so that I ventured out for my walk in shorts (yes, shorts, and in May: I know!), as well as taking a precautionary approach with sunscreen and hat. “Indian autumn” indeed!

Because Level 3 allowed for longer walks and the ability to venture beyond 2 kilometres from one’s own front gate, in combination with the sunshine, I ventured forth into a section of Christchurch’s Residential Red Zone* where I used to walk all the time but haven’t been for over nine years. Pretty much since the February 22nd, 2011 earthquake which trashed that part of the world. All of which is why this post is categorized as an “Earthquake Report” (although “post earthquake” would probably be more apt) as well as being of more ‘General’ interest. (Or so I hope.)

A major reason I didn’t walk there for a long time was because although the people had been bought out by the government and mostly moved on, it took quite a few years to clear all the houses. And tbh, I found it sad enough on my side of the river, seeing what had once been peoples’ homes lying derelict, with grass and weeds growing up around the windowsills, without venturing farther afield simply to experience more of the same.

The broken bridge, post September 4, 2010

The reason for putting off crossing the river since the houses were cleared and it’s effectively become a ‘green zone ‘ is two-fold. Firstly, I can get in a very reasonable sort of walk on my home side of the river, without needing to cross over. Also, crossing over is a much bigger commitment now than it used to be, since the most accessible walk is a ca. 7 kilometre block from my starting point.

Pre-earthquake, there was a lovely little footbridge roughly halfway into the “block” that allowed me to lengthen or shorten my work depending on the time available. But the footbridge, alas, was spectacularly munted by the first, September 4 2010, earthquake and comprehensively trashed by February 22nd, so it was, not surprisingly, removed for safety reasons. Once the decision to “red zone”* a significant portion of the residential area on the far side of the river (to me) was made, there were (obviously, imho) more important uses for everyone’s money than replacing the footbridge. So although I can still cross the river at either end of the “block”, once across it does mean committing to the full 7 km walk, which constitutes a reasonable length of time when on foot.

More autumn colour — but not where I went a-walking… 🙂

On that palmy-balmy day in early May, though, encouraged by the general amazingness of the day, together with the certainty that winter is coming so such days and the opportunities to get out and enjoy the greenery-rivery environment would be unlikely to last that much longer, I decided to go all ‘nike’ and ‘just do it.’ And it really was a great walk, although I wouldn’t be keen to undertake it in the full blaze of summer.

You see, I needed the hat and the sunscreen that day, with the levels of warmth and sunshine at mild autumn levels, chiefly because a significant number of the shade trees on the far side of the river have been removed—I assume to make way for the stopbanks that were put in as emergency works post earthquake. (The reason for doing so was because there was so much subsidence with major risk of wholesale flooding  while people were still living there, before the area was “red zoned.”)

So even though the stopbanks were probably necessary, and despite there being an intention to substantially “green the red zone” in future, for now there is very little shade, all of which means it will be a long hot slog in summer. A lot of the river bank trees were large, too, and ”as we all know (or so I understand), it’s the big trees that provide not only the most environmental benefit in terms of cooling and putting oxygen into the air, but exponentially more of such benefits than their smaller comrades. So despite the beautiful day, I did feel a little sad on a number of levels.

Greenery-rivery, from ‘my’ side

Not all the trees have gone: I did encounter a few old friends, but despite enjoying the expedition I was glad to get back to my side of the river, where overall there are a great many more trees to provide a shade that makes the river walk much more enjoyable on hot days. And as some of you may recall from a few years back, I really am very fond of trees. I will confess to being a little un-p.c. in my liking, too, as although I prefer NZ’s indigenous evergreen species when I get out into the vasty wild, in more built up areas I believe there’s a real case to be made for some of the introduced deciduous species.

This isn’t just because of the pretty autumn colours and new growth in spring, but because they let through sun in winter while providing shade in summer, definitely enhancing something like the river walk on a seasonal basis. The native plants used in such areas tend to be smaller, too, as well as evergreen and dense, so they cut off views as well as sun. Such planting can present safety concerns, too, if one cannot either ‘see or be seen’ by others. From observation in my own garden, which contains generous plantings of both native and introduced species, native bird and insect life appear to thrive in both. And regardless of location, because of the environmental benefits in terms of air quality and environmental cooling, I think we should be trying to retain as many mature trees as possible, for the duration of their life cycle, and replace or companion plant with alternative species where transition is considered desirable.

Also my side of the river

So there you are, a move from reflection on the merits or otherwise of sticking to my side of the river, with all the whys and wherefores around that, to what some may see as being a little more controversial. But airing of reflection and opinion, for better or worse, is what blogging is about, after all, and this particular blog is “…about Anything, Really.” And I suspect those of you who read it, as well as my books, know that observations and reflections on the “green world” are likely to from part of the mix. 🙂

Otherwise, I hope you are all doing as well, and staying as well, as you can in these ‘interesting times.’ Keep taking care and have a good week.

Burnished gold

*You may have gleaned this from context, but the "Residential Red Zone" comprises all 
those areas of Christchurch, chiefly in the east where I reside, that were deemed 
unliveable after the Christchurch earthquakes of 2010-2011. As a result the government
bought out the property owners, requiring or enabling them (depending on your point of
view) to relocate elsewhere in the city. The process of repurposing the Red Zone, 
including for "greening" projects, is currently ongoing.

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Coming Up Soon on Supernatural Underground:

Just a heads-up that when the clock clicks over into Monday June 1 on US standard time, I shall be posting Instalment 5 of my Worldbuilding in Fantasy series on the Supernatural Underground blog. Just in case you missed it, last month I featured the wonderful world of Palimpsest, in the book of the same name, by Catherynne M Valente. 

Shutters closed.

Over recent months, my posts have coalesced around several themes, including  “Writing In a Time of Corona Virus“, especially when NZ was in its Level 4 Lockdown. (We’re currently in Level 2, with all digits somewhat tightly pretzelled that we’ve “done enough” to stay here or go to Level 1 — now wouldn’t that be grand?)

The second theme is writing-centric (my own writing, that is) and has included reflections on writing the long form (aka novels and series) and a commitment to write a little more from inside the writing life. And this is the third Inside post: huzza! 🙂

Naturally “self-isolating”…

In both the “Writing In a Time of …” posts and my Reflections on Writing the Long Form, I made reference to the writing life being naturally self-isolating—which is partly humour and partly true.

While I can’t speak for other writers and their process, I find it helps to have periods of solitude and uninterrupted writing time. So I tend to seek that out whenever possible, to try and help the muse along.

Mmmm, delicious…

At all time in fact, but particularly when I do get those quiet times, the authorial coffee pot is an essential adjunct to the writing life, for brew and reflect moments, hands then wrapped about the cup as I watch the steam—and when fortune smiles!—the inspiration rise.

The dichotomy in all of this, is that although solitude helps to download the creative message from the Muses, it’s people and their doings that are the breath of life for fiction.

And a great deal of what makes us all tick as people, is being with other people and in community. So I suspect that if the self-isolation goes on for too long, then the writing—like the author—may end becoming a little disconnected from reality. An apt quote in that respect is the wonderful passage from John Donne:

“No man* is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

from Meditation XVII by John Donne, 1572-1631

In fact, the creative tension between solitude and engagement is not that unlike living in a time of corona virus, in which we go into lockdown and self isolate in order to get some runs on the board against the virus—but the whole point of doing so is in order to go out into the world again and re-engage both safely and fully.

So yep, sometimes going out and engaging when it doesn’t feel like I have quite enough runs on the writing board can feel a bit like breaking lockdown: O-o. Then again, so long as there isn’t a corona virus or its equivalent lurking out there, waiting to get me—and perhaps more importantly, to get to others through me—then sometimes that breakout is just good for the soul.

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Actually, typing that Covid-19 analogy makes me realise that the graphic depictions of the virus do put me in mind of my mental image of the Swarm lurkers (chiefly seen in The Gathering Of the Lost), albeit without the jellyfish-esque tentacles beneath. 😉

A book that addresses the dichotomy between isolation and involvement is Barbara Hambly’s Dragonsbane. Any reader that’s a regular here will probably have picked up that I’m a fan of this book, but one of the issues that the heroine, Jenny Waynest, struggles with is her need for solitude to strengthen and enhance her magic, and her human need to connect with others and be part of a wider community.

Jenny thinks she has been weak in giving into her humanity and choosing to have a husband and children, as well as being a mage, and that she has weakened her magic because of it. In fact, the way this conflict works out is an important aspect of the book (and by no means obvious, by the way.)

I’ve often wondered whether the author, Barbara Hambly’s approach to Jenny’s character could have been influenced by the tension between solitude and engagement in the writing life. Although if Ms. Hambly’s characters are anything like mine, they quickly develop minds and character traits of their own, independent of the author’s original conception. 🙂

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* I would argue that no woman is an island either, or better yet, no person of 
any persuasion, but given the era in which John Donne was writing I suspect he
used "man" and "mankind" in the oldfashioned sense of encompassing all people.

Although I read widely as a young reader, The Letter For The King by Dutch author, Tonke Dragt, was not one of the books that made it into my avid hands. In fact, I only learned about it a few years back when Marion Drolsbach, who translated The Heir of Night into Dutch for Luitingh, gave me a copy of what has—since it was first published in 1962—become a Dutch childhood classic.

So having become acquainted with the book quite recently, I was keen to see the television series. I also felt that, having first read the children’s book as an adult, I would be able to approach the TV series in a more open spirit than if it had been a dearly loved childhood favourite.

The TV show poster

The Book and The TV Show: Similarities and Departures

As it turns out, the latter view was correct because by-and-large I enjoyed the show despite the fact that it departed from the book in many respects.  Having said that, I feel that the “spine” of the story is essentially the same. The similarities are that the protagonist, Tiuri, must break his knight’s vigil to render aid to others  and ends up being charged with delivering a vital letter to Unauwen, King of a neighbouring realm. (Tiuri is an aspiring knight of Dagonaut.)

Tiuri’s epic quest-journey then ensues in the book, as it does in the TV show. Elements in common include the gallant black steed, Ardanwen, that he inherits from the knight who entrusted him with the letter; the pursuit by the evil Red Knights; a series of adventures, including being imprisoned then freed by a young woman called Lavinia, and falling in with a number of acquaintances who either further or hinder his quest—although these encounters differ quite substantially between the book and the film.

The essence of the reason for the letter and the quest is also the same, in that one of King Unauwen’s sons, who has conquered a third kingdom, Evillan, is plotting to usurp his father’s throne. (Btw, this is not a spoiler: it becomes clear very early on in the TV series.)

The Book Cover

So in fact, that’s quite a lot in common. However, if the book’s original storyline can be likened to a Triumph Herald, the TV show has strapped, if not an aircraft carrier, but definitely a Mack truck onto the chassis. I don’t recall magic in my reading of the book, but it’s definitely a substantial part of the TV story, plus a good-evil, saving-of-the-world prophecy.

The cast of characters has also has been expanded exponentially—we’re definitely in aircraft carrier realm in that respect—with a whole new backstory for Tiuri and his parents, plus introducing five additional, friends-cum-enemies  travelling companions in the form of Tiuri’s fellow vigil squires. In the book, he only had one consistent companion, Piak, who appears in the TV series in a “cute kid-brother” role. The TV series also considerably amps up the role of Lavinia, making her (rather than Piak) Tiuri’s main travelling companion—plus with a mysterious storyline of her own.

In short, the TV show is epic fantasy, whereas the book is a chivalric quest in a medieval-historical, albeit made-up, world.

Considering the TV Show In Its Own Right:

Since there’s absolutely nothing wrong with epic fantasy, if I set aside the book and consider the show solely on its own merits, I did enjoy it well enough.

I really liked the character of Tiuri, I warmed to Lavinia as the series progressed,  and I enjoyed the diverse personalities among the squire “band-of-brothers.” The villains, chiefly Prince Viridian of Evillan and Jaro, the leader of the Red Knights, were suitably villainous, and the stakes felt suitably high. I also quite liked some of the secondary characters, including the Queen of Dagonaut and Prince Iridian (Viridian’s brother), and David Wenham as Tiuri’s father, Sir Tiuri the Valiant.

Dangerous villains; engaging heroes;

Some aspects of the storytelling, though, were either not well fleshed out or downright puzzling. Although appreciating the need to set up a second season, I was left puzzled as to Tiuri’s actual role and powers, and also where his mother fitted into his backstory (beyond actually being his Mum, that is.) A sequence in a mountain monastery was also somewhat perplexing—and although I understand that the “denial of powers” and “denial of mission” are both time-honoured epic tropes I felt the way in which they were introduced, particularly the “denial of mission”, didn’t really ring true to Tiuri’s character, as established up until that point.

I do note an endeavour to counter/subvert the “chosen hero” trope of epic, which I felt worked moderately well. I am not going to go into detail, though, because it would be a spoiler, and it’s not necessary to go there to substantiate my “terribly important thoughts” on the show (as it was with Noughts and Crosses recently.)

I also note that the ending felt a little anticlimactic, in terms of actual denouement versus build up, but not to the extent of being a disappointment, or worse, a flop.

Conclusion:

To return to my overall summation at the outset, by-and-large I enjoyed the show. I also think it’s important to remember that The Letter For The King is a kid’s story and the screen adaptation stays true to its “kidult” roots. This is a coming-of-age story with some really engaging young adult characters and a quest-journey with some solid action sequences, and a life-affirming vibe that I enjoyed. It’s very definitely family-friendly viewing, too, so if you’re looking for Game of Thrones level violence and sex, this is definitely not the show for you.

The clincher question, of course, is would I rock up for a second series? The answer: yep, I would.

The Wall of Night Series map; artist Peter Fitzpatrick

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!

(The quotes, together with the covers, indicate the books in which the character appears.)

—

Jharin: a Swarm adept, sworn to the sorcerer, Nirn
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UK/AU/NZ

“No?” Emuun was silent, his eyes half closed. Then they opened again. “Speaking of dead heralds, I see your adept, Jharin, has abandoned the last face he was wearing.”

The chill eyes considered him. “As it happens, the face abandoned him. He could not hold it, even through last night.”

Emuun whistled again. “There must be more to these couriers than I thought. A power to resist, perhaps, rather than to attack or coerce?”

~  from © The Gathering Of The Lost, The Wall of Night Book Two: Chapter 9 — Portside
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Only the warrior hesitated, frowning as he studied the dark-haired man on the stairs, although he addressed Nirn. “You had two adepts when last we met: Jharin, here, and another one—Amarn. Where’s he right now?”

“Sheltering from the rain, no doubt.” Nirn made a business of taking the chair opposite Aranraith’s, his smile thin. “He went down to the port with orders for the ship’s captain that brought us here. Ostensibly a coastal trader, but a smuggler on the side and useful, so we let him live.”

~  from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall of Night Book Three: Chapter 2 — The Serpent Prince

Last week, when I posted on the nine muses and the overlap to my own writing, I observed that: “When it comes to The Wall of Night series, I am always aware that its epic scope and more tragic aspects are strongly informed by history.”

Research is the obvious way in which history informs my writing, e.g. I research historical periods, armour, weapons and warfare; diseases and medicine; and technological and cultural norms and/or changes when they seem relevant to my fantasy world. I also read works of historical non-fiction for general interest and enjoyment.

British historian and author, Kelcey Wilson-Lee’s Daughters of Chivalry — The Forgotten Children of Edward 1 falls into the “general interest” category, and I found it a fascinating and informative read.

Edward 1 of England is among the most politically and militarily successful of the English kings, perhaps more so by contrast with his son, Edward II, who lost his throne and his life. A considerable amount is known of both kings, but comparatively little about Edward 1’s five daughters that lived to adulthood — until now. The five adult daughters were Eleanora, Joanna, Margaret, Mary, and Elizabeth. Kelcey Wilson-Lee has used an array of sources from the period, including household accounts, to bring the five women and their lives vividly to life.

I found the book interesting on several counts. Firstly, as a window into how royal families lived in those times. For example, Edward 1’s children did not necessarily all live together even as very young children. Much depended on where they were born and where political imperatives took their parents. In any case, once they reached the age of ten or twelve years, each child formed their own independent household and travelled more or less continually around the country: between their own and their parents’ properties, and between major shrines of Christian worship. The family would come together for major political events, either in whole or in part depending on the significance of the occasion, then go their separate ways again.

This itinerant life and holding separate households was true of both the daughters and those of their brothers that survived to the necessary age — of whom only Edward (later Edward II) reached adulthood. The only sister where this was not the case was Mary, who was dedicated as a nun from a very young age, but even she travelled far more than was usual for a nun at the time.

The view of the author, from the source material, was that this lifestyle was probably usual for people of their rank. In a world without our modern means of communication, it was important for the royal family, on behalf of the king, to see and be seen throughout the country. In this sense, all the royal children, whether sons or daughters, were an important extension of the King’s influence and will. The ability of houses and estates, even large ones, to house royal households in terms of food and sanitation, may also have driven the constant travelling.

Although Eleanora, Joanna, Margaret, Mary, and Elizabeth’s lives may have followed the norm for women of their rank at the time, what I took from the book was that the part they played and the influence they wielded was far greater than that of most women at the time, including many royal women. Their mother Eleanor of Castile was highly educated and ensured her daughters were the same. Edward’s long reign and strength as a King also enhanced his daughters’ influence. The fact he appears to have been a fond father also played its part. The five sisters also emerge from the author’s detailed historical research as women of character, with a strong sense of their own part in shaping their own, their family’s, and England’s fortunes.

They were by no means ciphers in shaping that future either, particularly in the case of Eleanora and Joanna, the two eldest daughters. Owing to the deaths of several brothers, Eleanora was Edward 1’s heir for some years, and later served as regent for her husband’s realm, maintaining a critical European alliance for England when her husband was taken prisoner-of-war. Joanna defied convention and her father to make a second marriage of her own choosing and for a long time was one of England’s most significant magnates in her own right.

Through the lives of his daughters, Daughters of Chivalry also provides a portrait of Edward 1 that goes beyond that of King and military leader. Instead, the book highlights his character as a husband and father, a King in the wider European theatre as well as within the British Isles, and a canny politician. The overall picture that emerges suggests that however much Edward may have been the “hammer” of both the Welsh and the Scots, his relationship with his children was far more positive, even when they defied him, as Joanna did on several occasions.

Daughters of Chivalry not only covers interesting material, it is well constructed and imminently readable. In short, I enjoyed the book and would recommend it to anyone who is interested in non-fiction history, particularly of the medieval era and women’s lives, or who is interested in a fresh window into the times of Edward 1.

Incidentally, the hardback version I read was of very high quality and the dustjacket, as you can see, quite gorgeous.

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Disclosure: I read a hardback copy of Daughters of Chivalry, 364 pp, published by Picador, and supplied by the publisher’s South Island rep.

So-o, aways back on April 20 when I posted on Writing The Long Form and WALL #4 Progress, I also mentioned the Muses.

More precisely, I referred to “the Muses” plural, rather than “my muse” singular, and added the following note:

*Muses: re why plural and not singular, ’tis because traditionally the Muses are a sisterhood of nine:

Clio of history
Euterpe of lyric poetry
Thalia of comedy
Melpomene of tragedy
Terpsichore of choral dance and song
Erato of erotic poetry and mime
Polymnia of the sublime hymn
Calliope of epic poetry
Urania of astronomy

Apollo and the Muses pentyptych, by Charles Meynier, Cleveland Museum of Art

If one is to uphold the tradition of the Muses, and if there could “be only one” for The Wall Of Night series, then the by the reckons-of-Helen that one would have to be Calliope, the Muse of Epic Poetry.

Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry, by Giuseppe Fagnani, Metropolitan Museum of Art

For those who wish to argue that the WALL series ain’t poetry, I concede your point. However, my counterargument would be that back when the Muses resided on Mounts Helicon, Ida, and Parnassus (chiefly) and inspired the creatives of the ancient world, epic was poetry exclusively, e.g. the Illiad and the Odyssey. This, of course, dovetails neatly with my thesis that epic fantasy is a contemporary descendant of epic poetry, a lineage that  can be tracked down the centuries through works such as Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight and The Faerie Queene. (To name but a few!)

I might also support my claim to the patronage of Calliope, by arguing that the WALL series can be poetic in its language… 😉 Although that might also necessitate a salute to Euterpe, Muse of Lyric Poetry.

The Muses Euterpe & Melpomene by Robert Fagan: (c) National Trust, Attingham Park; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Returning to the sisterhood of Nine, though, although tragedy was—and is—not exclusively epic, many of the great tragedies addressed epic themes and subject matter. In terms of contemporary epic, the converse is also true, so I feel that any self-respecting epic fantasy author must pay respect to Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy. (See above.)

When it comes to The Wall of Night series, I am always aware that its epic scope and more tragic aspects are strongly informed by history. In that sense, I am always mindful of what is due Clio, the Muse of History, as well.

Clio, Muse of History, by Charles Meynier, Cleveland Museum of Art

So in terms of living inside the writing life, I’m definitely living with Muses plural, rather than singular. Yet although I may argue a case to pick and choose among the nine, I rather suspect that even when you think you’re opening the door to one, it’s all nine Muses that walk through.  Certainly, when it comes to writing their gift of story right, I often feel as if it’s not just the one, or even three, but all nine kicking the authorial behind into action and insisting that their creative standards be maintained. 😀

(PS And although I end with a smiley face, as is only right for so lighthearted a topic, you ‘may’ also read it as a wry smile.)

Introduction:

AJ Fitzwater

I first got to know AJ Fitzwater when we both had stories appear in Tales for Canterbury (Random Static), away back in 2011. I really enjoyed AJ’s story My Dad, The Tuatara and subsequently got to know them in person through the (then) newly formed SpecFicNZ.

Since then AJ has clocked up an impressive track record of short fiction publications, so I was unsurprised, but very pleased, to learn that a collection of linked short stories, The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper was to be published by Queen of Swords Press. And, of course, is now published as of 6 April, which is why I’m delighted to welcome AJ here today to tell us more, if perhaps not quite all, about it.
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Interview

Helen: AJ, The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper is a collection of linked short stories chronicling the life, times, and loves of Cinrak, a pirate capybara sailing the high seas. So, if I may begin with a naive question for those new to your writing, why a capybara, in particular? And why pirates?

AJ: I usually answer this question with the double inspiration information — capybara were a running joke in my Clarion class, and I was into capybara memes from Tumblr.

But there’s also something mystical and practical about capybara. They haven’t been mythologized in modern fantasy like rat pirates. They’re physically robust — broad of chest and shoulder, yet sleek and quick inside and out of water, which speaks of a sturdy fighter who knows the oceans. They’re a communal animal, the whole herd having a paw in bringing up their young, and chill with many other species — which suggests queer House Parents and loving of found family.

They’re also a great conversation starter. Some people have never heard of them, and I like being the capybara pirate whisperer.

Helen: I can imagine you as a capybara pirate whisperer, AJ! And I recall how exciting it was when you headed off to Clarion in 2014. So was there some special circumstance that made capybara a running joke for the class? And did anything in particular from that time carry through into the character of Cinrak?

AJ: Cinrak is square-chested, queer, and steady as ballast. A total butch, down to her suits and soft heart encased in a tough shell. She has oodles of love to share with her crew and family, something she didn’t get as a kit. She wants to make sure everyone has the space to be their best self. She loves learning from all the species of Rodentdom. She’s not always perfect — she pushes too hard and gives too much of herself, forgetting self care and spiritual release. She tries to be understanding of those who have wronged her, but her temper is slow burn and can make her quite stubborn.

Helen: Fantasy worldbuilding is my blogging theme for 2020, particularly on the Supernatural Underground, where I post at least once a month. So I’m particularly interested in Cinrak’s world of Rodentdom. Can you tell readers a little more about it and what makes it “tick” as a fantasy world?

AJ: Rodentdom during Cinrak’s time is in the midst of social and political upheaval — and they’re excited by it! Matriarchal leadership has been an undercurrent of their society, but its teachings have somewhat been corrupted by violence, greed, and expansionism. Pirates have been part of this, and modern Rodentdom pirates are in the midst of learning co-operation, fair distribution, and profit-sharing via unionizing and revisiting old scriptures (which have been usurped by conservatives, and upon research have surprisingly modern consequences).

They’re also learning hard lessons about how their expansionism has affected other species, chasing them out of or violating their historic homes, and how this affects ecosystems.

Plus, the old feudal inheritance system is transitioning to a democratic monarchy, but not without it’s problems.

Helen: Are there other species in your world of Rodentdom? And how do they interact with the rodent species? Also what is the magic of Rodentdom and how does it all work?

AJ: Just like in any world, for an ecosystem to be effective, survive, and thrive, it needs multiple species. Being somewhat aquatic, it makes sense to have water-faring species. There’s the mer, part humanoid, part fish (does their evolution speak to humans in the far past? There might be something in the human-tales about that). Ogres are almost humanoid, but they are scaly and have more in common with the great leviathans of the oceans with regards to their size and communal spirit. And there are the leviathans themselves, the whales and kraken. Because of their sapiency, superstitions and rules about eating types of seafood are abundant — kraken are friends, not food.

Helen: I understand romance features in The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper. How would you describe those romantic elements?  And is there one significant romantic relationship, or several?

AJ: Cinrak, the marmot opera diva Loquolchi, and rat queen Orvillia are in an ethical polyamorous relationship. There are moments that go into their meet-cutes, and how they negotiate their relationships, but I haven’t written any stories that focus on their romance. Yet. 

Cinrak is terrible at romance. It’s cutely awkward. She’s happy to let Loqui and Orvillia be all the flowers and hearts and picnics, and they’re happy to make a fuss of her. She acts as their rock and negotiator. Everything works extremely well, because none of them would be happy married or stuck in the same place with each other all the time. Their relationships remain resilient because they value freedom, consent, and open communication. 

Another major relationship of the stories is between Agnes the Kraken and the glass whale Xolotli. It’s a queer love that spans centuries and oceans. 

Helen: If challenged to describe The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper in three words, what would they be?

AJ: The book does have the promo line: Lesbian. Capybara. Pirate. Which is apparently delightful to many people, and their joy is a joy to me.

To take it a step further: Madcap. Magic. Hug. 

Helen: And  “Also, dapperness”, which I must admit appeals to me a lot, as does anything that offers magic and the madcap, along with a hug! Thank you very much for dropping by, AJ, and sharing your insider’s insights, as author, into Cinrak and her world. I am sure readers will be as fascinated by both as I am, and join me in wishing you and Cinrak every success in the wide and wild world of publishing, readerdom, and books.

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More About The Voyages Of Cinrak The Dapper:

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More About The Author:

AJ Fitzwater lives between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. A Sir Julius Vogel Award winner and graduate of Clarion 2014, their work has appeared in Clarkesworld, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Shimmer, Giganotosaurus, and various anthologies of repute. A unicorn disguised in a snappy blazer, they tweet @AJFitzwater