Back when I lived in NYC, one of my favorite places to hang out was the Cloisters. Wandered around the galleries, paid tribute to the Unicorn, and sat in the gardens writing poetry and letters (actual hand-written letters with a fountain pen, of course). On a day like today, grey and chill, it fed my soul.

Yesterday I found the Cloisters Garden blog. I'm afraid I feel the urge to redo my back yard coming on. Though I'll have to let go of the unicorn concept. Even if I had the heart to capture one, I'm not much of a hand at making animal pens.

thorngrove posted this gorgeous find : "a harvest of Anglo-Saxon gold and silver so beautiful it brought tears to the eyes of one expert."

It's been a while since I've snugged in with a good olde medieval book. What better than Elizabeth Chadwick's The Greatest Knight to throw the spell over me again. Kings, castles, noble nights, swords, destriers and palfreys (ye olde horses), wine by the barrel, mud by the bushel. Tourneys, too!

Some irritating stuff. The women are either whimpy pretty ineffectual or smart assertive beautiful AND bear sons first (daughters can come later). The hero is perfect, but I guess I should have known by the title of the book. The scattered POVs are a mixed bag. I'm not big on characters or narrators whose main role is to bolster the hero's glory. Chadwick's characters aren't quite that limited, though, and they do carry the story forward while their own backstories are skillfully woven into the narrative.

I felt like I was in the hero's head most of the time (not so much on her other POVs). She knows how to skip over the stuff that's boring (to me, anyway). Several times I braced myself for a long battle scene, and before I knew it, it was over. She pretty much jumps over his sojourn in the Middle East, which I was glad of, since by then I was more into what was happening in England and France. (I was also dreading that staple of crusader stories: the love affair with the dark-skinned dancing girl. Thankfully, it didn't happen.)

Her historical detail has tons of credibility and showed (among other things) that knights in tourneys were like today's rodeo circuit cowboys. Prizes, parties, a roving life. The details didn't feel contrived at all. For example, she doesn't obsess about body odor and shit on the streets (which medieval folk would presumably take for granted).

Anyway, if you're craving English medieval, this is a full potency dose.

Anathem, by Neal Stephenson. Cool book, but I skimmed parts, especially the philosophical dinner scenes. When are we writers going to learn that dinner scenes are boring unless violence or sex is involved? But on the whole, this book kept me turning the pages--all 800+ of them. His world is complex and imaginative, but not in a way that leaves you flailing to make sense of it.

Fantasy Medley. Stories by Robin Hobb, Kelley Armstrong, CE Murphy and Kate Elliott. Made me want to read more by these authors (which I've done). It's sold out--hopefully Subterranean will reprint.

Women of the Humiliati, by Sally Mayall Brasher. Fascinating read for Medieval freaks, despite its dissertational tone. About a mixed-gender lay order in medieval times. Great stuff if you're looking for ways for your characters to live unconventionally right in the heart of society. Communal living. Women attaining authority. Alternative religion. Social activism.  Making the authorities squirm. Brasher has a knack for grasping the strands that make these kinds of societies so intriguing. Side note: why is the cover so ghastly on this book? When I first looked at it, I thought it was damaged from exposure to sunlight. It's in color, so why not use artwork, a duotone, even? I just don't get it. It's not more expensive to print an attractive vs ugly cover for a book. (edited later; not so fascinating as I first thought. In fact, pretty dry. The order itself is interesting but the book is really more a sifting of documentation. I misunderstood the intent through the first part.)

Travels of Marco Polo. It's not just where he went, it's when he went. His mind is in such a different configuration than people of today. Or at least, the people I know. He's an efficient merchant with one foot in the mythic. But then again, once a Venetian, always a Venetian.

Besides the weird fun of  the topic, Rima Staine's thesis Misrule, Mockery & Monstrosity in Marginal Medieval Art is a great source for illustrations of secular medieval life. "The Profane and the Rude" section goes to show that mores don't make a straight line in history. (tangent: cool definition of mores.)

This 14th-century illustration from the Luttrell Psalter is like the tarot card, The Fool. The image of an itinerate worker with staff and pack being harried by a dog survived for centuries. The court jester pursued by the dog, as on the tarot card, came later, around the 17th century.  The court jester worked his way into the deck before that, sometimes with kids or small adults, but without the dog.

A couple of friends just posted what they're reading, etc. One wrote in despair about finding good books to read. I'm able to find good books. The despair comes in not being able to finish them. The stack of half-reads is growing at an alarming rate.

I don't know what's wrong, exactly, but I find myself just not wanting to go on with the story. Even if the writing is good and the characters are well-realized, somehow the stories just aren't... something. Fulfilling? Interesting? Original? Maybe I'm abandoning these characters because I just can't identify with their predicaments, which will go on for many, many more pages.

I did finish: 
King's Dragon and Prince of Dogs by Kate Elliott
The Girl of His Dreams, by Donna Leon. A contemporary mystery set in Venice--which is a huge part of the appeal.
Frail Barrier, by Edward Sklepowich. Ditto.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Translated by James Winny. In process, actually. What got me to reread this favorite old weirdy was the Strange Horizons article by Susannah Mandel.
A Day in a Medieval City, by Chiara Frugoni. Two things I like about this: It's about Italy, rather than England, like most medieval stuff in these parts, and it's a fun read.

Does the list of books I did finish mean that I identify only with Italian detectives and bumbling knights? Or that all books should be about Italy or medieval stuff? Nah. I think it's mainly the WIP effect.

Do you tend to avoid or avidly read books that are connected with your WIP in some way?

I really want to go here. It's Fianello, a medieval town in Umbria, Italy. Town's motto is dove il passato e' ancora presente, "where the past is still present." Sounds like my kind of tourist trap.





top pic bottom pic

A couple of years ago I found an excellent book in a second hand bookstore: THE SECULAR SPIRIT: LIFE AND ART AT THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It shows ordinary things that people used: cosmetics, combs (like the pic, 15th c. painted ivory, French, from the NY Met Museum)), games, musical instruments, dishes, tools, account books. Helpful for filling in details if you have a medieval or quasimedieval setting.

pic from the roving medievalist

(inspired by anachred's comment on previous "Kvetchin'" post)

Picture books are invaluable in researching historical periods for fiction. So are internet galleries. But! Just because an artwork is dated late 13th century doesn't mean the clothes are. We don't portray Jesus wearing surfer shorts and flipflops--so I can't assume that ye olde medieval people showed religious subjects in ye olde medieval clothes. Same with Arthurian subjects in the 15th century. In other words, a lot of art might have been deliberately SCA.

Then you have the big fashion changes that took place in the later part of the 15th century : the transition from medieval to "renaissance" clothes. If your characters are at the edge of that, you might have some with old-fashioned balzos--honking big bouffants, and others with more dainty, fresh coaz--with the hair bound close to the head with ribbons. Not yet for the long braids and jeweled hairnets of the second half of the quattrocento.