My Review for Forbidden Shores.

Posted by **DarienMoya**, 3 years ago

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Hello

Posted by Daniella, 4 years ago

it's been a long time that i haven't updated the posts and all that and I'm sorry for that. Anyway there's just to weeks before vacations and I promise I'll be adding posts and those things.
I've read your comments and I've noticed that you haven't mentioned Jo Beverley. I am a fan of Jo Beverley and I highly recomend her novels!!! you can be sure you'll like them! You can check some novels' reviews on www.romantictimes.com
Don't forget you can post here anything related to historical romance!

All best wishes
Daniella

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Clubs (Part III)

Posted by Daniella, 4 years ago

yep, it;s quite long... but we love reading, do we not?
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Thanks to everyone who bought A Lady's Secret and put it on the New York Times in print list (top 20) for four beautiful weeks. Don't forget Lovers and Ladies, which has also been selling very well. :)

If you're wondering, I'm now working on Christian's story. It'll be out next year with the title, The Secret Wedding. No clubs in these books yet, but it was early days for clubs. Social life outside of home or court was still centered on coffee and chocolate houses, where nearly everyone was admitted.

As I said above, society became more restrictive over time, not less, and some think that the easy mixing of educated people in London in places like coffee houses contributed to Britain's rising greatness. The lists of famous minds who might be chatting on any particular night is dazzling.

On the other hand, the reason it became more restrictive was expansion and the rising middle classes. There were just too many people and everyone didn't know everyone anymore, so there were private clubs, and then clubs for this sort of person, and that profession, and that nationality.... Progress? Who can say.

Jo :)




Posted by Jobev on Wednesday, May 14, 2008 at 12:07 AM in Jo Beverley | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBack (0)

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Clubs (Part II)

Posted by Daniella, 4 years ago

*this is the second part of Clubs (Part I) I couln't put it in just one post because it exeeded the maximum number of words allowed. This post have been originally put in www.wordwenches.con by author Jo Beverley
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You can read it all here in a book of Hood’s work, published in 1861. Of course earlier, women had clubs such as the Bluestocking salons, and Almack's, but men were allowed, even encouraged. Anyone know of any exclusively for women? If not, why not?

tinyurl.com/5zedf7

It strikes me as a book full of delicious tid-bits. Can anyone find one?

Can you recall any memorable scenes set in a

London

club? What’s the betting (how very clubbish!) it’s a scene where the heroine invades, probably dressed as a man? So, what about a realistic scene, with men only?

Here we go with the tasty morsels. (I’ve only used ones from clubs existing up to 1820.) The book is arranged alphabetically, so that’s the order things will appear. Skipping the American et al, we arrive at the Beefsteak, originally the home of the Sublime Society of Beeksteaks, a very venerable club, founded in 1735, though there were a number of others. The main purpose was to eat and celebrate beef and all the solid English values it represented.

(Which led me to this Hogarth picture "The Gate of Calais, or the Roast Beef of Old England." Check it out and the explanation behind it here. Ah, the world wide web. Always a new and sticky thread.)

I was actually looking for this.
"When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food,
It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood.
Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good.
Oh! the roast beef of England,
And Old England's roast beef."
Henry Fielding, 1735.

The famous Beefsteak Club is in Irving Street, between Leicester Square
and the Charing Cross Road. (One of those English quirks is that quite a few streets are the Charing Cross Road, the Edgeware Road etc, presumably because they were originally heading to those places. However in most places they become simply Bolton Road, Chorley Road, etc. ) Unlike most clubs it is and has always been a single room with one long, communal dining table. The membership is a mix of peers, politicians, academics, and people from the arts, which is perhaps representative of that earlier age when mingling seemed to come naturally.


In its early days it had only 24 members, and even the Prince of Wales had to wait for an opening. They dined at 2pm -- this was a typical dinner hour and in 1808 it moved to 4pm and in 1833 to 6pm in keeping with the drift to the evening meal -- every Saturday between November and June (the months when gentlemen were most likely to be in London rather than at their country estates.) They ate beefsteaks followed by that great favorite, toasted cheese, washed down with port, porter (ale), punch, and whisky toddy. They wore blue coats, buff waistcoats and buttons which said “Beef and Liberty!”

The original club died in 1867, killed mostly by the railways, which were taking people out of Town on the weekends, but it was revived in 1876 as an everyday dining club and moved to the present location.

There’s more at Wikipedia en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beefsteak_Club but no pictures. Shame about the scanner. I’ll try to put up some another time.

On to Boodles!

This is another famous club that doesn’t get much play in historical romance, perhaps because it sounds like the sort of place Bertie Wooster would hang out. In fact, according to Lejeune, “Solidity and tranquility make up the atmosphere of Boodles.” It was largely free of political affiliations and anything else that might cause disturbances. It was Ian Fleming’s favorite club because he said a pub should be dull. Perhaps that’s why we romance writers avoid it. :)

Edwin Boodle was head waiter at Almack’s when it was in Pall Mall in the early 1760s.. It later moved to 28, St. James’s street, to a place previously inhabited by the Savoire Vivre club. Now Lejeune spells that Scavoire and I don’t know why. Anyone?

Boodle’s had a bow window even more famous than the one at White’s. Apparently Sir Winston Churchill, when made an honorary member, had only one request – that he be allowed to sit in the window and smoke a cigar. But who knew there was also a Boodles (without the 's) Jewelers, established in 1798? That could create confusion in a novel, couldn't it?

Check Boodles the jewelers out here.

I really think that’s long enough for a blog, isn’t it? I’ll be continuing to make notes from this book, and I’ll share them either here or on my Minepast Blog.

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Clubs (part I) (POST BY AUTHOR JO EVERLEY)

Posted by Daniella, 4 years ago

Charlie in Versailles

* this has been originally posted on www.wordwenches.com


Jo here.

Unfortunately Bibiana can’t be with us this time (and yes, it is a delightfully appropriate name, isn’t it?) but I happened to be reading a book on gentlemen’s clubs, and they drank a lot of port and brandy, so I though I’d share some tidbits from that.


Also, I couldn't find a picture of Charlie even in London, though he's been there, so here's one of him frolicking at Versailles.

The book is The Gentlemen’s Clubs of London by Anthony Lejeune and Malcolm Lewis, and I just noted that their names aren’t on the front, only on the spine, which seems so delightfully, understatedly English. :)

This book was sent me by a fan after she found it in a booksale, but it seems moderately rare. It’s written in the delightful style of one who really knows his clubs, and that seems to be Lejeune. Lewis seems to have been responsible for the many illustrations and photographs. Alas, being temporarily without a scanner, I can’t share any.

It seems to me that historical romances – and I include mine – don’t give quite enough weight to the gentlemen’s clubs. Wodehouse, for example, with the Drones' Club, or Ian Fleming with Blades, is probably more on the mark. Of course they had an advantage, both being men, and the sort of men who had a club or two as naturally as they had shoes.

Romances are also mostly written by women for women, who probably would rather their menfolk be at home than at the club. In fact, the book includes a poem that is a lament by neglected wives, though attributed to one Tom Hood.

Of all the modern schemes of man
That time has brought to bear,
A plague upon the wicked plan
That parts the wedded pair!
My female friends they all allow
They hardly know their hubs;
And heart and voice unite with me,
“We hate the name of clubs!”
(Doesn't "hubs" sound strange?)

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Whither Bagnigge Wells (this post is from author Susan King)

Posted by Daniella, 5 years ago

By Susan/Miranda

As each of us Wenches have noted here, writing novels set in the past presents its own special challenges. One of the hardest parts is determining exactly how much history you want or need to support your story, and then how much of your “writing time” to invest in research to support that history. Of course this varies from writer to writer, and from book to book, with results that vary from the most mundane “wallpaper history”, set in the indeterminate past where everyone has big houses and wears silk, to more thoughtful books with enough factual background to please a good university press.

I’m a self-proclaimed history nerd. I love history, and I love research, and I’m perfectly happy to wallow in original sources all the day long. This is much of the reason that I’ve shifted my writing from historical romance to historical fiction, where the characters are almost entirely based on historical figures and the plot is driven by fact. For me, that’s more-better-funner writing, about as good as a job can get. But all that lovely research can also become as sticky as the LaBrea Tar Pits, and suck up my time like so many wallowing mastodons.

Which is exactly what happened to me with Bagnigge Wells.

I know this sounds like I’m writing a Nancy Drew mystery (The Secret of the Bagnigge Wells). Actually, my WIP is a historical novel based on the life and times of 17th century actress and royal mistress Nell Gwyn (The King’s Favorite: A Novel of Nell Gwyn & King Charles II). Most of the book takes place in London, and a well-documented 17th century London at that, thanks to the writings of diarists Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn, and a surprisingly large number of other surviving letters and journals.

There are many writers fortunate enough to be able to travel to the places their books are set, and be able to walk literally in the characters’ footsteps. Alas, I’m not one of them; I have two college-age children, and that puts a damper on research junkets to England. And, as I’ve also realized, many of the places I’d want to see no longer exist. Not only did the Great Fire of 1666 destroy much of Nell’s London, but another fire, later in the 17th century, claimed most of Charles’s Whitehall Palace, too. What remained of Restoration London has since been absorbed, knocked down, remodeled, bombed, renewed, and rebuilt by successive generations. I've no choice but to rely on the descriptions of others to create my interpretation of the past.


But back to Bagnigge Wells. In book after book about Nell, there are references made to her “summer house” on the Fleet, a bucolic retreat where she and Charles often went to swim, fish, and generally make mischief away from the court. I liked this, and I worked it into the story as the book evolved. I wrote along with some of those big **** in the middle of the scene, astrisks that mean Notes to Self, and are my way of saying, “come back here and put in more when you’ve researched it.”

So with my scene more or less written, I went back to fill in the blanks regarding Bagnigge Wells. Hah. To begin with, I found no mention of the place in my standard 17th diaries, journals, or references books. I figured it had to be within a day’s journey by water of the palace, but I couldn’t find it anywhere on any map, old or new. In fact, to my chagrin, I realized that the earliest mention of the place in connection with Nell was in a book published in 1878 (Old and New London by Walter Thornbury), which had been repeated as gospel in every successive book about Nell. Here’s the passage, in all its high Victorian splendor:

“Bagnigge Wells House was originally the summer residence of Nell Gwyn. Here, upon the Fleet and amid green fields, she entertained Charles and his saturnine brother with concerts and merry breakfasts, in the careless Bohemian way in which that noble specimen of divine right delighted.”

I probably should have tossed the whole scene then and there. Relying on the word of a historian writing more than two centuries after the fact isn’t generally a good idea. But the summer house on the Fleet was certainly plausible, and entirely probable, and besides, I liked the scene, and I didn’t want to give it up. It worked. And I just liked the word "Bagnigge", however it may be pronounced (anyone know for certain?)

And so back I went a-hunting.

What did I learn? That the reason I couldn’t find Bagnigge Wells on any map is that it no longer exists. For that matter, neither does the Fleet. The River Fleet was once one of the major rivers of London, running from its origins on Hampstead Heath, through Kings Cross and Clerkenwell, until it finally emptied into the Thames near Blackfriars.

Bagnigge Wells was located on the Fleet near St. Pancras. The site of two wells known for their healing properties, it may also have been the location of an earlier, abandoned religious order. In Nell’s time, the area was still surrounded by open fields, with only a single public-house (The Pindar of Wakefield) as a landmark, and the river was clear and clean, yet easily traveled back into the heart of London. It was also considered a place with strong royalist tendencies, filled with Charles’s supporters. In other words, the perfect place to escape the 17th century version of the paparazzi.

But as for those “telling details” that writers so cherish: nothing. Not a peep. Everything dealt with Bagnigge Wells in the 18th century, when the healing wells were developed, and the spot became fashionable with the “middling sort”, who came to take the waters, flirt, and play skittles. (To the left is a genre print of "The Bread and Buttery at Bagnigge") But by the early 19th century, the Wells were described as a ruin, with urban sprawl relentlessly approaching. Only the old Pindar had managed to continue the connection with Nell, with a chimney piece that featured the royal arms and a portrait-bust labeled “Eleanor Gwynne, a favorite of Charles II.)

The once-sparkling Fleet had become little better than an open sewer, and by the end of the 18th century, was completely arched over and built upon. The springs, too, vanished, and all that remains today are two streets in the area: Gwynne Place and Wells Street. (For more information, check out The River of Wells.)

I figure I spent the better part of a morning to learn all of this cool stuff, none of which was really of any use to me. In other words, if I wanted to put Nell and Charles at Bagnigge, I’d have to do so without specifics, and to rely more on my imagination than any hard fact. So this, then, is the sum of how Bagnigge Wells is described:

“I vow you can’t catch me, sir,” I taunted, raising my head from the river’s surface only enough so my lips would clear it. “Hey, ho, can’t catch me!”
I gulped as big a breath as I could and plunged deep into the water, swimming low so Charles wouldn’t spy me. Finally my lungs were burning and I could keep under no longer, and I popped up with a splatter, gasping. Swiftly I looked about me for Charles, shoving aside my tangled hair that clung to my face and breasts like duckweed.
All around me was still: the green riverbed, the willows trailing their feathery branches into the water, the few ducks already nesting for the night in the tall grass, their heads tucked demurely beneath their wings. The days were shorter now, making the sky that velvety blue that comes before true dusk, with stars just beginning to spark. The evening mist floated low over the fields beyond the river, softening the horizon. I could hear the first nightingale’s song over the rush of the water, and louder still the racing of my own heart. Our clothes lay where we’d left them on the grass, untidy piles of pale linen, and on top of Charles’s lay two of his piebald spaniels, curled contentedly, I suppose, in his scent. Not far beyond lay the shadowy shape of the house I’d hired for our use for the summer. . . .

That’s it. Was a morning of research to prove I’d have no hard facts worth that paragraph? Was this time I could ever justify well spent to my editor (if I ever had to do so, which, fortunately, writers seldom are called to do)? Or was that morning among my research books more a general refilling of my writerly imagination, whether it generated anything immediately useful? Could it just be chalked up to…fun?

Whether this works (or whither the Wells) remains to be seen, at least until next summer, when The King’s Favorite will be released. But here’s a question for now: do you think you can tell when a writer has enjoyed writing a book? Can you sense if the book was a joy, or a trial? Have you ever read books that in some intangible way felt as if the writer had written under pressure (health, family, financial, or simply an idea that had ceased to be magical), or one that felt so right that the words must have flown from the keyboard?

*you can check this post where it has been originally posted! go to www.wordwenches.com

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Welcome!

Posted by Daniella, 5 years ago

I am really sorry I have not posted anything until now, but I had had no time :(

I have created this group because I love Historical Romance novels and I think we (persons who love this genre) should have a space where we can talk about it! So anyone is free to add new posts about anything related with Historical Romance novels.

I will also post some author's posts too... so I hope you'll enjoy this space!

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