La Reina Católica

My new favorite novel.

I recently finished C.W. Gortner's wonderful historical fiction novel, The Queen's Vow, based on the life of Isabella of Spain.  After I posted my review on Goodreads, a friend informed me that the Spanish television channel RTVE is currently broadcasting an award-winning series that covers the same period, entitled Isabel.

This couldn't have been more perfect timing.  With all the emotion and drama of the novel still fresh in my mind, I was so ready to see it in action on screen. My husband and I watched the first two episodes of season one last night, and I couldn't be more pleased.  The acting is superb, as is the recreation of the brutal, passionate, and complex culture of 15th century Spain.

The STARZ original series The White Queen comes off as insipid by comparison (despite the fact that I've enjoyed the series, and look forward to watching the final episode this weekend).  As for HBO's rendition of Game of Thrones. . .I'm sorry.  Even with its intrigues and dragons and zombie-beings from the frozen north, Westeros doesn't hold a candle to the real world of 15th century Spain. 
 

Major players in the RTVE series Isabel.

Why am I so taken by Isabel?

Well, for one I'm a sucker for historical fiction of any sort. Even poorly done historical fiction keeps me happy; well-done historical fiction makes me ecstatic.

Then, there is the extraordinary character of Isabella, as portrayed in both the novel and the series.  After nine episodes of watching Elizabeth Woodville wring her hands and cast spells to ensure her fortune in The White Queen, it is wonderfully refreshing to have the Princess of Asturias take on the dangers of the Spanish court with intelligence, wisdom, and most especially action. 

Must we believe Elizabeth Woodville's success was
only a matter of beauty, love, and a touch of magic?

Gortner's rendition of Isabella's life appeals for all the same reasons.  In his novel, he gives us a queen whose world does not revolve around the love of her king (though by most accounts, Isabella did love her Ferdinand); a woman whose powers extend far beyond looking longingly out the window as her husband goes to war. 

Isabella does not sit by idly while others defend her will and prepare to fight her battles. She is the key player in forging the alliances and securing the conditions that made possible the victorious campaign to unify Spain. 

Not that Isabella's record is spotless.  There is the small matter of the Spanish Inquisition, and the continuing controversy as to whether her sponsorship of Columbus' quest was, in the end, a good thing or a bad. 

But whether or not you admire all the faces of Isabella, to see her portrayed as a real woman -- forthright, determined, taking command of her own fate despite the odds -- feels like a unique and special event.

Why is it so difficult for us to bring the remarkable women of history to life on screen? 

Young and capable, Isabella of Castile understands
what it will take to secure her throne.

I suspect Elizabeth Woodville had her own cunning, as well as a real capacity to contribute to the security of her husband's reign, in ways The White Queen refuses to acknowledge. Instead, the series chooses to focus on her great beauty as the reason for her rise to power, and resorts to magic as an explanation for her ability to remain on the throne.

Isabella of Castile was beautiful, too. And while she did not practice magic, she had absolute confidence in the power of her prayers and her faith.

Yet beauty and prayers were not what won Isabella the throne; nor did she ever seek to rely solely on these gifts. What secured the crown of Castile was young Isabella's ingenuity and her capacity to take action in key moments that transformed her people's history.

Isabella is not the only woman in history to claim such gifts. There have been extraordinary women like her throughout the centuries.

Maybe some day having their stories rendered in novels and on TV in the way that Gortner and RTVE reconstructed the life of Isabella will, while never ceasing to be delightful, at least feel somewhat less unique.

Old Pope, New Pope

Pope Francis won the hearts of the people in St. Peter's
Square almost instantly with his humble demeanor.

Yesterday, a series of random events came together in such a way as to allow me to witness the announcement of the new Pope live, as it unfolded in Rome.

Not that I was in Rome, mind you.  I was in my parents' kitchen. But still, this is the fourth Pope I have seen elected in my lifetime, and the first where I happened to tune in just as the white smoke was billowing out of that skinny tin chimney.

Mom and I had planned to go shopping after lunch at my parents'.  But the arrival of a repair man to attend to their dysfunctional phone changed those plans. While the landline was being fixed, I opened up my iPhone app for the Kansas City Star, and we saw the breaking news:  white smoke from the Vatican, posted only six minutes before.  Mom turned on the TV, and another moment in history unfolded before our eyes.

It's been interesting to watch the on-line dialogue following the announcement of the election of Jorge Bergoglio as the next leader of one of the world's largest churches.  Ever the optimist myself, I am rather happy the Vatican has at least stepped outside of Europe and picked their next man from the great continent of South America.  I like his demonstrated commitment to the cause of the poor, and the humility he has expressed in both his lifestyle and his opening address as the newly elected Pope.

Legend or history?  Conspiracy theorists say that after a woman
was unwittingly elected Pope in the 9th century, rituals
were established to ensure all new electees had
the proper (and presumably more holy) set of genitals.

Everyone is speculating over his choice of name:  Francis, presumably reflecting a dedication to the mission and life of St. Francis of Assis, a man reknowned for his devotion to the cause of the poor, and to all the living creatures of the natural world.

Of course, this handful of promising notes is not enough for many people. There is much anger being expressed because Bergoglio is conservative on precisely the issues one would expect a Catholic Pope to be conservative.  He objects to abortion, for example, and does not approve of gay marriage. 

Nonetheless, he also represents a step forward in ways few people seemed to expect from the Church at this time.  For my part, although I am bound to disagree with many aspects of his doctrine, I have to admit I was impressed with the unassuming way in which Pope Francis shared this moment of transition with his adoring crowd on St. Peter's Square.  I also hope he renews the focus on social justice, which I think has been one of the Church's strongest points of leadership since Vatican II.

Most of all, I'm curious to see how this new papacy unfolds. 

Because all life is, in one way or another, related to my novels, I couldn't help but remember the wizard Tzeremond as Cardinal Bergoglio accepted this grave and noble responsibility for the spiritual lives of millions of people worldwide. 

Another image that reminds me of the
wizard Tzeremond.  The road to perdition
is paved with good intentions.

Tzeremond, like Bergoglio, is humble, dedicated, and keen of mind. Although he is Eolyn's greatest antagonist, he is an honest and even good man, from a certain perspective.  In writing Tzeremond's character, I knew he never once doubted the truth of his convictions, even as those convictions led him to preside over one of the most terrible injustices in the history of Moisehén: the annihilation of the Magas.

Perhaps not coincidentally, the influence of my Catholic childhood on the story of Eolyn also came up today while in conference call with editor Eric T. Reynolds and Thomas Vandenberg, who will do the cover art for High Maga. 

One of the earliest memories of growing up as a girl in the Catholic Church was the moment in which it hit home that I could never be a priest.  This seemed a terribly unfair situation, especially since I was certain I could be a much better priest than any of the priests I knew. Although I eventually came to the conclusion I was not called to a religious life of any sort, I have no doubt this early moment was one of the seeds that eventually gave rise to Eolyn and her struggle to practice magic in a world where magic is forbidden to all women, and controlled by men.

Once in a great while, I've questioned the relevance of Eolyn's story to the modern world.  I like to believe the women's movement of the 1960s and 70s has brought us a long way from the reality of Medieval Europe (which, by the way, was not all that different from the reality of the US in the 1950s, or the reality of the conservative elements of the Republican Party in 2013).  I like to imagine that younger readers, especially, won't "get" the idea that a particular right or path to power might be forbidden to women just because they are women. 

Unfortunately, reality has a way of preventing me from sinking into this myth, with a constant stream of events little and big; in the news, and in the lives of my friends, students, and family. So much is left to be done, and defending what precious ground we have won in the last few decades is an unending battle. 

I may not live to see a Catholic woman priest,
but a Lutheran woman priest presided over
the funeral of my maternal grandmother.
She gave one of the best and most heart-felt
funeral sermons I have ever heard. 

Yesterday was one of those days, despite (or perhaps because of) the emotion and excitement of the announcement of a new and hopefully different kind of Pope.

It has been about 1700 years since women were banished from the leadership of the Church.  Since then, women have gotten around this prohibition by finding countless creative ways to serve the Church's most noble missions, and to contribute positively to its spiritual ministry.  Yet women are still second-rate citizens in the eyes of the Vatican, subordinate to all men and incapable of coming as close to God as the red-robed bishops and their white-robed leader standing on the balconies of St. Peter's. 

The pomp and celebration was exciting, the new Pope inspiring in his origins and humility. Still the news was sad somehow, and incomplete. We were reminded, in bold relief, that a Church led by only half of its community can never be anything more than half a Church.

This is also one of the core themes of Eolyn.  We need men's leadership, but we need women's leadership as well, equally and fully, in all walks of life, in all our human endeavors. 

When I was a little girl, I dreamed that in my lifetime I would see women priests in the Catholic Church.  I have let go of that dream in the years gone by, having come to terms with the fact that it is far too unrealistic, that the Church needs another 500 years, perhaps another 1000, to catch up with the 21st century. 

Of course, I may be happily proven wrong someday.  After all, it was once said -- not so long ago -- that a Latin American Jesuit could never be elected Pope. 

Seventeen hundred years later, something is still wrong with
this picture. . .

When truth is stranger than fiction

Joseph Banks recently returned from his
historic voyage on the Endeavour.


My winter reading this year includes The Age of Wonder, a chronicle of 18th century science and discovery by historian Richard Holmes. I've been working on this little beast for about a month and a half.  It is wonderfully written, and very entertaining, but it is also dense.  Packed full of charismatic people and interesting details that take some time to absorb, especially for someone like me who is new to this particular slice of history. 

The book begins with Joseph Banks, who spent his youth reveling in biological and sensual discovery during the journey of the HM Bark Endeavour to the island paradise of Tahiti.  Banks would return to England to eventually become President of the Royal Society, and as Holmes paints his story, one has the impression that the fate of every other scientist presented in the book somehow hinged on the judgement and support of this first ambitious explorer.

The brilliant and eccentric German immigrant William Herschel abandoned his career as a musician to explore the universe using the largest and finest telescopes yet made, and made by him. Herschel's introverted sister Caroline began her career as his assistant, but soon came into her own with the discovery of multiple comets and the distinction of being the first woman scientist ever to receive a professional salary in Britain. 

Together, Caroline and William Herschel
revealed a universe much larger and older
than had previously been imagined.

There were a series of crazy balloonists, few of whom were taken seriously by Banks, and whose greatest gift seemed to be surviving crash landings, for they were very adept at getting their balloons up, but not very able to control their descent, or the direction in which they floated.

Mungo Park, a sandy-haired young doctor from Scotland, caught Banks' bug for exploration and took it into the heart of Africa, where he disappeared on his second voyage. The precise circumstances of his death remain a mystery to this day.

Last but not least, Humphry Davy, whose story I'm in the midst of reading.  This young man from Cornwall began his illustrious career in chemistry with the discovery of the mind-altering effects of nitrous oxide (laughing gas).  Davy indulged in multiple experiments on himself and his friends, especially the ladies, during evening lab sessions that became famous during his time in Bristol.  No wonder he's smiling in all his portraits.



Humphry Davy, chemist and poet.

All in all, Holmes brings to life a fascinating period, one filled with drama and a sort of heady madness as an entire society rushed headlong, even recklessly, into a new era of discovery.  Scientists and explorers were the superstars of this time. People packed exhibition halls to view strange artifacts brought from distant lands; they filled plazas to see balloonists carried far afield on wayward winds, and crowded laboratories to witness explosive demonstrations of the latest discoveries in chemistry.  They peered at the moon and the stars through Herschel's telescopes and wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether other intelligent beings occupied the universe and were peering back at them. 

So many times while reading The Age of Wonder, I've found myself thinking, "You couldn't make this stuff up."  I love it when history does this; when the facts force you to stretch your imagination.  Richard Holmes' parade of crazy and wonderful scientists has me reflecting on my own characters, and wondering how I can make them less conventional, more colorful, more likely to violate the boundaries of the expected.  How to make them all of this, and yet keep them real in the reader's mind? 

Often I find my answers to these questions in the real personalities of history.  And when I'm done reading up on their amazing journeys, I can't wait to dive back into the making of fiction again.

A World of Wonder in 5000 Words

The cover art for Creatures of Light is taken
from Claude Lorrain's 17th century painting,
"Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba."

Hadley Rille Books has released a Kindle edition of my short story Creatures of Light, and has made it available for free download today and tomorrow.

Creatures of Light provides a glimpse into the life of Selenia, a brilliant and ruthless woman scientist, and her lover Nicolas, intrepid explorer of the high seas.  They live in a fantasy age of exploration, an imaginary world that mixes the art and politics of Renaissance Italy with the wonder inspired by  17th and 18th century European explorers.  Theirs is an unapologetically imperialistic and misogynistic society, and Selenia has learned to do whatever it takes to establish and maintain a place of power in the context of this brutal world. 

I've had many sources of inspiration for Creatures over the years.  The first seed was probably planted when I read A Naturalist in La Plata by WH Hudson, which chronicles the 19th century biologist's journey through the Pampas of Argentina. 

Since then, many more books have crossed my path.  Biographies of powerful women of the 16th and 17th century, such as Lucrezia Borgia, Isabella de Medici, and Catherine de Medici.  Stories of 17th and 18th century women scientists such as Maria Gaetana Agnesi and Maria Sybilla Merian. 

Additional chronicles of exploration have also fed into the mix, such as the extraordinary adventures of Alexander von Humboldt in South America.  Most recently, I started The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes, which documents the discoveries of 18th century scientists such as Joseph Banks and Caroline Herschel, as well as the colorful, romantic, and disturbing times in which they lived. 

Holmes historical account had little influence on the short story Creatures of Light (since I picked it up long after the short story was written), but it is providing a lot of fodder for the imagination as I prepare to write a full-length novel by the same name.

Creatures of Light emerged as a short story about three years ago, when my local writer's group did a holiday story exchange.  It first appeared for the world at large in the Fall 2010 issue of Adventures for the Average Woman.  Now Hadley Rille Books has picked it up and made it a stand-alone short story available on Kindle, complete with its own beautiful cover.  And for FREE, no less!  At least for the first couple of days of its release. 

I hope you enjoy reading Selenia's story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  I am certain you will.

~*~

Enter Eolyn's Winter Book Blast Giveaway for your chance to win a FREE signed copy of the beautiful hardcover edition of the nove Eolyn.

Visit authoer DelSheree Gladden's Blog to enter the Winter Book Blast Grand Prize Giveaway, including 18 novels across various genres.