What I've Been Reading

I always like to read the professional reviews on the backs of books (if they're hardcover) or on the inside (if they're paperback) and decide which one best fits my perception of the book.
        Last week I was engrossed in a book called Entwined, by Heather Dixon. It's one of those sometimes rare novels where you really want to read it as often as you can, instead of just during the times you usually read. (For me, that's during breakfast and lunch, before I go to sleep, and in the car sometimes.) The book is a re-telling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses and it actually has a sort of morbid twist to it, but the thing that captivated me the most was the 12 sisters.
           Azalea, who becomes a sort of second mother to her younger sisters when their mother dies, and who is the main character; the madcap, sometimes comical Bramble, who despite this is not a tomboy; the shy, beautiful and caring Clover; the romantic, dramatic Delphinium; literary-loving Evening Primrose, (Eve for short;) the twins Flora and Goldenrod, both "shy and eager at the same time"; Hollyhock, who I didn't notice having a particularly defining personality trait; the ever-hungry Ivy; delicate, quiet Jessamine; vicious Kale, who likes to bite people and scream, and who always made me laugh; and baby Lily. Each of their distinguishing personalities charmed me, and their closeness made me smile.
         The professional book review which I felt expressed the book the best was this one:

Graceful and enthralling...a fully original world, brimming with romance, enchantment, even a healthy dose of humor. --Edith Pattou

            However, I do think that Ms. Pattou shouldn't have listed romance first, because I think that the friendship between the sisters is more prominent, and that even their estrangement from their father, the King, and the looming danger coming from Keeper, the master of the pavilion and silver forest where they sneak off to dance every night, are more significant in the book than romance.
            The sisters live for dancing, I think, or perhaps a better way to word it would be 'they can not live without dancing.' So, forbidden to do so because of mourning, they go to dance secretly.
            The book was very different from what I expected it to be, the cover with the back of a girl in a rather odd dress and the whole outer appearance of the tome made me think that it would be more of a romantic book with not so much focus on the rest of the girls, just Azalea. But I loved the many heart-warming scenes, the frank way Ms. Dixon writes, the numerous funny bits, the slightly British feel to some parts, so much that I think I might like to purchase this book for myself, to re-read over and over as I do with my favorite books.

<Entwined cover

          Really, this is becoming more book reviews and fashion pictures than actual stories or poems! Oh, well! Lately I haven't been genuinely, properly inspired for a really good something. Grr!

          

Silly Poems

I wrote these two goofy historical fashion poems last January when I was bored. I looked up some of the rhymes, (i.e. "what rhymes with 'picnic',) on the Internet, and I suppose that's sort of cheating, but...I was having fun!

A Hoopskirt:

A lady in a hoopskirt went out one day,
With the brisk breeze blowing in from the bay.
Her bonnet, tied on with tightest of strings,
Was blown away as if only a grass ring.
Her beau comforted the distressed belle,
But only fate could tell,
Whether Mademoiselle,
Would escape the horrible pell-mell.
The wind gets more brisk,
My lady is at risk!
Nevertheless, they sit down for a picnic,
Oblivious of the wind so breakneck.
Then all of a sudden, Miss Hoopskirt shrieks!
Her petticoats are exposed, what a society breach!
But that is not all, now pantaloons too! What shall Mademoiselle do!?
The horror of which,
Her beaus protect the dish,
As lovely blue silk,
Tips over the milk.
And then with a cry,
Miss is swept into the sky!

The Flapper:
A flapper,
So dapper,An excellent tapper,
She is not a napper,
More like a snapper.
On nothing will she not dare,
Even to cut her hair.
The sleek stylish bob,
Is no watch fob.
In glitter does she dine,
Everything is very fine,
For no one does she pine,
No, she is a modern maid!
Without qualm she drives a car,
Going ever so very far.
Her long necklace is of gold,
Miss It Girl is ever so bold.
Long skirts are passé,
She shows her knees today!She may be called rash,
To the Charleston party does she dash,
But in this new society,
The forward new personality,
Is really quite the style,
Everyone she beguiles,
So only stiff dowagers are hostile!

Rather silly, eh? The rhymes always make me crack up. Let's see...
Here is the Hoopskirt Lady and a friend:

and the Flapper and some companions, at their Charleston party:




Slightly Annoying Heroines

Sometimes I get fed up with heroines of books who detest balls, fancy clothes and romance, and prefer to be riding horses, or, in the case of the newest novel I've started, Bewitching Season, practicing magic. The start of this book reminds me immensely of a novel I read a while back, called, (very similar title, too...) The Season. Both set in the early 1800s, both about a society girl who is not looking foward to the coming social season, wishes she doesn't have to marry some stuffy suitor, and then suddenly a handsome childhood friend arrives and changes that! But--once I get further along in Bewitching Season, I am sure it will change, because the central plot aspect is supposed to be something to do with a plot to harm Princess Victoria, who would one day become Queen Victoria. Based on my love of The Young Victoria movie, which the beginning involves her last year as a princess, (same as BS,) I'm sure that I'll get around to enjoying it more.
      However, back to my original complaint. I'd just like to read about a heroine who actually is interested in fashion, society, etc. In fact, I can't think of any book which featured a character like that, off the top of my head! And ach, the historical fashion lover in me can't help criticizing the cover of Bewitching Season. The model is wearing a very costume-y outfit that looks very Spanish.  At least it's better than the cover of The Season, those models were supposed to look Regency, but they just ended up looking like very modern-day girls in high-waisted, backless (for goodness sakes!) dresses! Ugh!

As for the long-ago, (well, not so long,) promise, (well, sort of promise,) of a review of The Fool's Girl, I still have not finished it. Yes, I very often read several books at once. But that particular novel is just not that interesting! I mean, it is, but it's very heavy reading, and not very captiviating. It doesn't help that the text is very crammed close together.
Francis Bacon, (whoever he is,) once said:

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.

Sometimes some books just have to be left as "tasted".

Marking Books in Style, Unfinished Writings

My three "fashionable ladies" bookmarks:

Left to right: 1890s, 1910s and a combination of 1920s and 1950s, which is kind of strange, but I love the autumn flavor of it.


I don't have any stories today because I don't have many 1-2 page stories. It's very frustrating having so many ideas for new stories when I have over 20 unfinished works! I attempted to whip up something but it's not half as good as I'd like it to be, so I abandoned that--for now. Perhaps the August breeze will inspire me for a poem or two.

Weekly Characters

Since I was not able to do last week's character, due to having been on a trip, I will profile two characters today.
The one to make up for last week's:

Margaret, Elizabeth and Wilhelmina, from left to right. Three sisters, though one, (Wilhelmina,) by marriage. It is in the 1770s, and they are being painted to commemorate two events: Margaret and Wilhelmina's brother Nathaniel's third wedding anniversary, and Elizabeth's engagement to a young merchant by the name of Jack Hastings. The secret they are all inwardly laughing at is that the real-life backdrop of this portrait is in fact not what you see in the completed picture, but a simple room in the painter's home. Elizabeth, however, wishes that they truly were by a great window in a stone castle with burgundy drapes, for she is a dreamer who loves adventure, romance and daring. Practical Margaret thinks she is silly to dream of such things "when they can never come about". Both sisters encourage their sister-in-law to pursue her talent at embroidery, (which she is doing in the painting,) by selling her masterpieces of stitchery to an upholsterer's or some other such trade which could put Wilhelmina's work on public display. However, she is not vain about her talent, and does not wish to exhibit it in such a fashion. "Giving my embroideries as gifts to my family is enough to satisfy me," Wilhelmina often tells her sisters-in-law. Elizabeth was at first shocked when she heard Margaret suggest the idea that her husband's sister should sell her embroidery, for Margaret would never even think of doing such a un-ladylike thing as "selling her art, scandalous idea!" herself, but this shows Margaret's nature of apreciating other's artistic works so much that she would even suggest such a thing!


This week's:

Mimi Jacquard, one of the many models for a fashion house in New York City in 1951, pauses at the stair of her apartment building and is rapidly sketched by a young artist, Henri Glederé living above her.
        Mimi was born in Paris, France in 1930, and before she had even graduated from high school she was working as a fashion model there. When she was ninteen, her way with fashion was spotted by the head of a New York City fashion house visiting Paris to search for new models, and was hired on the spot. Mimi's sophisticated and somewhat haughty demeanor was just the thing the designer wanted to demonstrate his new line of clothing.  Mimi loved New York from the moment she stepped off the ship, immaculate in her oh-so-stylish traveling outfit of a full, flowing navy blue pleated skirt with a matching jacket cinched tightly at the waist, pumps dyed to match, and an also matching hat with a large, stiff, skyward-pointing feather. 
          Henri is secretly smitten with the elegant Mimi. However, until she can overcome her distainful, cold air towards the financially struggling Henri, his infatuation is hopeless. If only Mimi would find out that his name is spelled with and "i" instead of a "y", her heart might soften towards him upon realizing he is a fellow Frenchman! How Henri would be devastated if he were to find out that Mimi was on her way to dinner with her beau Digby Hardey!
          If only he could break through her cold exterior to find the warm, wholehearted instead of distant person which Mimi does not even seem to notice is there.
               
(Disclaimer: the stories above are completely fictional and all the characters are of my own invention. The paintings are not of the characters in the stories, nor was the sketch done by Henry Gledere.)

The Fool's Girl

I scraped my wrist on a book today--The Fool's Girl, by Celia Rees. I'd much rather get scraped by a book than anything else!
This novel is a sort of sequel to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night,  in which Viola's daughter Violetta along with the fool Feste end up in London, where they meet William Shakespeare and Violetta tells him of her mother's adventures which 'Will' apparently then puts into a play. According to Ms. Rees, Illyria does not long stay happy, but is in a horrible state, and Violetta is trying to put it back to rights, with the help, (or not,) of characters from the original play as well as new additions. It started out very confusingly, going back and forth from Violetta, Lady Maria, and Feste telling about the events leading up to their coming to London, but now, (I'm not quite halfway through, this book has been unusually slow-going for me,) it's getting clearer though I'm still not sure how they ended up in London!
When I finish reading it, I'll give it a review out of five stars. And then...the next book I read...and the next...and on and on...with also get a review.

A Short Story about Anne Boleyn

It doen't have a title yet...

England, 1536--Greenwich Courtyard, April 30
A king--stature so stately, and a queen--elevated so high, and then fallen so low. It was a dusky evening, and the king was strolling in the courtyard of Greenwich Palace after an afternoon of merriment, when he heard a voice.
“Your Majesty! Henry!”
The king turned. “Anne!” he said, not so much delighted as puzzled.
“Your Majesty, I beg of you! For the love of our child, have some mercy! Give me another chance!” The Queen’s dark hair was slipping out of it’s pins, her hood askew. Her eyes were pleading, her face frantic. She clutched Princess Elizabeth in her arms.
Henry glared at her. He was almost moved to be forgiving, looking at her dark eyes beseechingly looking at him, but quickly changed his mind. This woman had lured him with her exotic, irresistible beauty, and she had tricked him. There was no need for mercy. “You failed to give me a son. You lied to me. I will give you no more chances!”
 Anne’s eyes filled with tears. “Henry! You loved me! I thought you loved me! Can you not spare some kindness! Look at our child!” Princess Elizabeth squirmed in her mother’s arms and turned around to look at her father. Met by this menacing figure she quickly hid her face in her mother’s gown.
“I loved you! For the sake of this love, please, I beg of you! Henry!” This last was cried out in vain as the great king turned away from his wife, ornate cloak swinging as he strode away, callous to his wife’s pleas.
Anne stood forlornly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched her husband disappear into the distance, before she sank to the ground in utter despair, burying her head in little Elizabeth’s dress.
~~
The next day she tried again, carrying Elizabeth past Henry’s window, but he did not come out. He was with Jane Seymour, the little blond lady-in-waiting that had replaced Anne in Henry’s affections. He had flirted with her, gratified that she was the entire opposite of Anne, who was dark, bold, passionate and vivacious compared to meek, fair, quiet Jane.
Hurrying away, with no success, Anne wondered despairingly if Henry would finally show her mercy, or she would lose.
She lost.

This story is based on a true event.

Weekly Character

Each week I'm going to pick a picture from my extensive historical fashion picture folder, whether a Victorian fashion plate, a '50s model, a 18th century Duchess or a Regency dancer, and create a small profile of the person. Of course, I'll choose images of unidentified people, because the whole point of this is to make up who the person is.
Today this picture caught my eye:

                               
The lady in the center is Lucille Marie Vensten, nee Georget, and her children are Isabel and James, or "Jamie" for short. She was born in France in 1882, and as this picture looks to be about 1910, she is twenty-eight. She met Henry Vensten, a British painter, at a art convention in Paris in 1901. The two were married in 1902, in an outdoor ceremony at Henry's parent's villa in the south of France. In 1903, their daughter Isabel was born, and their son James in 1906. Lucille is also a very artistic person, and takes delight in sketching miniature portraits of Isabel and Jamie.  When Jamie was two, the Venstens moved to Italy, where Henry is an artist. They live in a little seaside cottage, with extensive gardens that Lucille tends every morning. The base drawing for this idyllic portrait was quickly sketched by Henry one morning in May when he saw his son bringing his mother and sister a rose from the giant rosebush by the front walkway. He presented the painting to Lucille for her birthday in September, and it hangs in the sunroom, which is Lucille's special place.

(Disclaimer: the story above is completely fictional and all the characters are of my own invention. The painting is not of Lucille, Isabel and James Vensten, nor was it painted by Henry Vensten.)

Anniversary of the Romanov's death

Since today is the 93rd anniversary of the Romanovs' assasination, (er, late tonight it will be,) I am posting a short story I wrote a couple months ago about them, as well as a tribute video I made.

                  SKATING ON THE STANDART
              a short story about the Romanovs
 WITH THE RELEASE of the film, “Rasputin and the Empress”, starring the Barrymore family, in 1932, an interest in the last imperial Romanov family of Russia was kindled.
At the time I was a young reporter for a newspaper in my hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota.
There had been many stories circulating the town about a Russian immigrant named Vasily Ivanovitch Chegoffsky in the early 1920s when I was around ten years old. As far as I knew, he still lived in a little house at the end of Thirty-Fourth street, and so, armed with notebook and pencil, I boldly knocked on his door one day in the spring of 1933 with the hope of interviewing him for the newspaper.
I was surprised to find that he was a very amiable man, a bit of a recluse, and not at all the cruel Russian the townsfolk had made him out to be. I suppose these assumptions were merely made up out of prejudice and not knowing the truth about the friendly Mr. Chegoffsky.
He welcomed me in and made me a glass of tea with a Russian samovar. I told him of my purpose in coming, and he nodded.
“Ah, yes. I heard of this film, and out of curiosity I went to see it. It is terribly inaccurate, I must tell you. The Imperial Family is portrayed most untruthfully. It is merely a trumped-up version of fact, embellished with wild tales to make it appealing to the public. But--if it has sparked an interest in the family, then I am glad. More tea?”
“Yes, please.”
“Now,” said Mr. Chegoffsky, settling back into his chair. “What would you like me to tell you?”
“Well, I came to interview you and see if you knew anything about the Imperial Family. It seems that you do.”
“Yes, indeed! I had the great pleasure of knowing them intimately for several years.”
“Really?” This was more than I had ever hoped for! My pencil poised to take notes, I asked,
“How so?”
“I served as a sailor on the yacht Standart from 1908 to 1911. I was in my early twenties then, and very proud indeed to serve the Tsar.”
Warming up to the story, I began to take down all he said. The following is the tale he told me, in his own words.

I have often thought back to my time as a sailor on the Imperial yacht Standart with joy. The Imperial Family was truly lovely, and it was an honor to serve them. I always look back to the events of 1917-18 with sadness, and wish that the lives of these remarkable people had not been cut off with such brutality.
My favorite memory from serving on the Standart is of the Grand Duchesses and some of us sailors roller-skating down the deck. It must have been around 1910 that we did this, for I left my time on this large yacht in 1911.
I believe it was the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaievna’s idea, and the rest of us played along. It made many a boring hour sailing on the Baltic Sea merry.
I do not recall how us sailors obtained roller-skates, but I distinctly recall skating along the deck with the two younger Grand Duchesses, Maria and Anastasia Nicholaievna, on either side of me.
There are many more fond recollections from my time on the Standart, but this one is my favorite. It shows how unaffected and candid the Grand Duchesses were, which, I think, will present a different view to the people of the present day. I sincerely hope that some day this cruel Soviet regime will end, and that the Imperial Family will some day be known as they truly were.

 This I later transposed into a newspaper article which won the first prize blue ribbon in our yearly “Best Article” contest. I was very proud of that ribbon, and hung it in a place of honor in the den when I had my own house.
I became very good friends with Vasily Chegoffsky, and was saddened when he died at the age of eighty-two in 1966. He told me many more tales of the last Romanovs, and by the time he passed on, I felt as if I had really known them.
At that point I was the head of the newspaper and I wrote an obituary for the Russian: 


Two days ago a citizen of our city, Vasily Ivanovitch Chegoffsky, passed away in his home on Thirty-Fourth Street. Many of you may remember the prize-winning article of 1932, which I wrote as a young junior reporter. That article would never have come to being if it wasn’t for Vasily Chegoffsky. He was a fine man, and he will be missed. 
                                                     ~~~~~

Video:  OTMA: Antebellum

R.I.P.

Greetings!

Inspired by the darling blog "Amabellen", that my mother's friend made, I decided to make one of my own to post assorted writings of mine and any other thing that catches my eye. I have been writing stories for about seven years now, from childish one-page pioneer tales to a 30-some page 10-year-old Wizard-of-Oz "masterpiece", (now I consider it quite dreadful,) and now to more mature stories about the last Romanovs, other royals, Edwardian shopgirls, Regency ladies...the list goes on and on. I could count over 20 unfinished works presently! And movie scripts, too...My mother often says that I learned to write by reading, and it's probably very true. My love of books, (sometimes I read three or four a week,) has turned me into an aspiring author, and someday I hope to go beyond giving 40 page 'books' as presents to family and friends. I guess this blog, "publishing" some of my "works" online, is another step towards that!