Sorry to cut into the Advent Calendar which I hope you are all enjoying.
It's awards season again and the Speak Its Name Awards will be running once more.
The Awards will be:
Best Novel
Best Cover
Best Author
and Readers’ Choice.
The first 3 are chosen by Speak Its Name, but the Readers’ Choice gives you a chance to participate…
In 1912 youthful poet Cecil Valance spends a weekend at the family home of his close friend George Sawle. It is a weekend that is destined to become a minor footnote of literary history when a poem is dedicated to Daphne the teenage daughter of the house, a poem that takes on a life of its own following the 1st world war and its author’s death in France.
The Stranger’s Child explores the question of what we can really know about other people, whether it is old friends and acquaintances, family members or a poet who died a hundred years ago. We have bits and pieces of information, guesses, gossip, memories but often the most crucial parts of the jigsaw may be missing.
Throughout the book, we are tantalised over the course of a century with glimpses into the lives of characters who all have some connection with the War Poet Cecil Valance, whether they are concealing or trying to uncover his secrets. Some characters know some of the truth and choose to keep it private, others spend their lives in vain quest to ferret out ‘what really happened’.
Generally a vivid, absorbing read, bringing its several protagonists briefly but very vividly to life in lightening flashes, but in the end, it almost worked too well and I felt ended by feeling almost over-teased and cheated of simple narrative satisfaction – who were any of those people really?
Writer Fran Jacobs tagged me to fill out this meme on my current Work in Progress.
1) What is the working title of your next book/short story/project?
Dancing Phaedra
2) Where did the idea come from for the book?
The protagonist, Antyllus was a secondary character in Gaius and Achilles. Initially intended to be quite an unsympathetic character whose role was to be the nightmare ex boyfriend of one of the protagonists, he ended up as something rather more than that and I felt he deserved a book of his own.
3) What genre does your book fall under?
Historical fiction
4) What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
Hmm, I don’t know who would be exquisite enough to play Antyllus – they would have to be a talented dancer as well, unless they used a body double. I could almost imagine a younger Alan Rickman playing Tiberius, Antyllus’ manager. Gabinius, Antyllus’ master… probably lots of possibilities…think of a large man, verging on the obese in his late fifties with a rather pompous manner.
5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
A former brothel slave uses his talent as a dancer to struggle towards autonomy.
6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Self-published.
7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
I have been writing the first draft throughout this year and am still completing it. I hope to have the book ready not long after the New Year.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Mary Renault’s The Persian Boy and The Mask of Apollo share similar themes and settings. Eromenos by Melanie McDonald also addresses thorny issues of sex and power in ancient Rome in her recreation of the relationship between Hadrian and Antinous.
9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?
The main character himself Antyllus, I think, with the force of personality he developed in the earlier work – also early readers who told me how much they liked him!
10) What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?
If you like historical fiction set in ancient Rome,if you are interested in ancient theatre, if you like gay-themed fiction that isn’t just romance, if you like angst and a character who struggles against the odds to assert his humanity – you may enjoy this book.
Valeran Park is a club for dominants and submissives who engage in power exchanges ranging from extended play sessions to ceding almost all autonomy to a master for an extended period.
Michael, a sensible, forty year old accountant, has signed one of the heaviest contracts available and is deeply committed to the D/s lifestyle and his own role as slave. When he learns, then, that his master has sold him to Drew, a rich and seemingly spoilt and indolent young man with a reputation for wild partying, he does not back out, despite his dismay, but accepts the decision. After all, surely Drew will grow bored of him soon enough and sell him on to someone more suitable?
Drew, however, seems determined to turn over a new leaf and prove to the sceptical Michael that he is worthy to be his master. He gets his chance sooner than he anticipates, when unexpected events plunge Drew into the midst of Michael’s extended family at a time of crisis.
It is in this busy family setting, rather than the rarefied atmosphere of Valeran Park itself, that Michael and Drew, two strong and stubborn characters, must find an equilibrium in a relationship where Drew, theoretically, holds almost all the power. This is one of the great appeals of the book. Drew and Michael are much more than their D/s roles but multi-faceted individuals who have other needs, roles and obligations in the wider world.
Neither of the characters is perfect, though both are likeable and there were times when I found it hard to readily empathise with their determination to remain within the perimeters of their set roles even when Drew was insecure or Michael was angry and frustrated, (and hadn’t even chosen to be with Drew in the first place).
In the end, however, the book did a great job of showing how, with patience and communication on both sides as well as mutual attraction and liking, a D/s relationship can be made to work for some people.
There were some loose and indeed mysterious ends at the finish of “Without Restrictions”, which leaves me looking forward hopefully to a sequel!
Without Restrictions by Miri Thompson Amazon Link
Evening Rounds by Steelwhisper
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This was a brutal, vivid glimpse into another world, that of the fabled British boarding school. Although the setting is contemporary, the scene and the values and attitudes that led to it could equally have emanated from Tom Brown’s Schooldays. I can well believe however that little has changed, based on conversations I’ve had from those who had such a – privileged schooling.
The writing is polished and confident, of a piece with the formality of the setting. The story of youthful cruelty is relayed by the victim to his lover in the third person and with such a detached elegance that it was bordering on ambiguity whether this was his voice or that of an omniscient narrator.
A painfully elegant vignette that left me wanting more.
Throughout the month of July, you can download Gaius and Achilles from Smashwords for just $2.00 (usual price 3.99) using this coupon SSW50.
In other news, short story collection, Meeting Tiberius and Other Tales of Ancient Rome, which features stories about characters first introduced in Gaius and Achilles, should be released later this year.
The Storyteller by Blaine D. Arden
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A pleasing little tale on many levels. A vignette introducing us to the unusual relationship between a blind young nobleman, hidden away by his family, and the tutor with whom he shares his exile. The erotic energy between the protagonists is palpable and intense, while a D/s dynamic in which the s is guided firmly and lovingly towards being stronger and more independent was refreshing to read about.
As a writer who has brought out her first novel in the last year, I am still at the stage of experiencing a little thrill of pleasure each time I see my book added to another to-read list on Goodreads. It’s with mild disquiet though that I notice Gaius and Achilles is acquiring the label of non-con or dub-con from prospective readers.
Of course, the moment I sent my book out into the public eye, I lost any right to direct or complain about how it is received, interpreted or responded to and that is not what I am trying to do here. I am merely prompted to muse aloud on the implications of Gaius and Achilles receiving that label and what we can assume about power imbalance and the possibility of consent in fiction if not real life.
My assumption is that prospective readers are giving the book the label of non-con basically because it is about a sexual relationship between a slave and his master. For me, the label is disquieting because a central theme of Gaius and Achilles is that two people manage to form a consensual and mutually respectful relationship despite the fact that one of them has absolute legal power over the other in the context of a slave-owning society that they both take for granted.
As various eloquent commentators in the blogosphere have powerfully elucidated of late, non-consent, rape is a fictional theme that many readers, specifically women, enjoy writing and reading for a complex variety of reasons. I entirely support the right of women to write honestly about such desires and fantasies without fear of censorship. (I doubt I would feel nearly so accepting though about men cheerfully writing about their fantasies of raping women – a double standard?)
On the other hand, speaking personally, non-consent is really not my thing. If anything, I kink on consent, negotiation and willing, gratuitous submission. A beautiful, strong man kissing the whip is hot, while a character suffering so much as a caress they didn’t want leaves me feeling icky and reaching for the back button.
The seemingly automatic labelling of Gaius and Achilles as non-con has prompted me to consider whether its premise might appear politically naive at best or at worst be seen as offering some kind of apologetic for societally-imposed power-imbalances which is very far from my intention. The question powerfully raised by an earlier generation of feminists as to whether or not someone can meaningfully consent to sex when they are economically dependant on and subordinate to the person in question is a valid one in the realm of slavery at least as much as that of traditional, male-dominated marriage.
Within the dynamics of slavery, however many times a master says, “You can say no if you like,” and the slave replied, “No, really, I want to,” the suspicion would remain that a refusal might displease the master and have later unpleasant repercussions for the slave. Purely from that perspective, sex between master and slave can be always and automatically labelled non-con.
Having painted myself into this corner, the only way out I can see is the plea that human beings are complex social entities with complex desires and ways of relating to each other.
Gaius, an elite Roman male, does not refrain from raping his slave Achilles because of some clear-cut moral imperative. Supposing he ever thought about it, he would agree that a master has every right to use his slave as he sees fit. Essentially, Gaius doesn’t rape Achilles because he doesn’t want to. He prefers the challenge and the rewards of seducing the rebellious and distraught young man into becoming a willing and enthusiastic bed-partner.
Despite benefiting from being at the top of the heap of a hierarchical, violent and exploitative society, Gaius dislikes violence and unpleasantness in his private life. The hundreds of slaves who labour on his vast estates may be driven by the whip, but he would never raise his hand to the familiar individuals who wait on him personally. Naive and hypocritical? Yes, but we all negotiate a way of living amidst a heap of contradictions.
Consider how many of us bestow untold love and kindness on our cat or dog but eat the flesh of animals who have lived and died in hideous conditions. Consider how some women in the most patriarchal and repressive of societies, and who are indeed vocal supporters of that patriarchy and repression, find their own ways of exercising power and putting their views across. St Teresa in her writings sometimes begins with, “I am a mere woman, but…” then delivers blistering criticism against the shortcomings of the male clergy.
Achilles, for his part, is a slave but grew up as a proud, freeborn citizen. He could be broken, of course, by brutality and deprivation, but he is too naive and proud to yield to the mere possibility of brutality and deprivation. Kindness and charm may be another matter…
So as two contradictory individuals, the two of them struggle towards relating to each other honestly and, on an emotional level at least, as some kind of equals despite the fact that one of them has absolute power over the other.
I now fear the point I am trying to make boils down to the romantic idea that the hardy weeds of humanity, love, and compassion can flower even in the most unpromising of concrete cracks.
As mentioned in earlier posts, my current work-in-progress is a novella focused on a character called Antyllus, a young man who grows up in a brothel but is driven by ambition and innate talent to become a star in the up-and-coming performance art of pantomime (not the kind with the horses and Widow Twankey, but the ancient precursor to the ballet in which a story is told through dance and gesture).
Antyllus is a character previously known from Gaius and Achilles as Gaius’ difficult and neurotic ex-boyfriend, who had been making his life a drama-filled misery in the period immediately prior to the start of the novel. This current story takes place a couple of years before that.
One challenge I’ve been encountering about developing the backstory of a secondary character is that of throwaway references about them and their circumstances that you made in the original work that you now find just don’t fit or make much sense when you reconstruct their story or character in more detail.
For example, in Gaius and Achilles, I mention that Antyllus’ original patron freed him and let him go his own way “having moved on to another pet project”. It sounds simple and painless because, when I wrote that, I was just sketching the background of Antyllus’ story for the purposes of his role in the current plot. I hadn’t any plans to write more about him and some brief explanation was needed for why he was with Gaius if he had been another man’s protege; the details weren’t important. Now that I am exploring Antyllus’ relationship to his original patron, the man who saved him from life as a brothel slave and gave him the chance to train as a dancer, the story of what went on between them is starting to look rather more complex and conflicted.
Should I be bound by my earlier statement to make events transpire just as I had so airily postdicted (new word), or should I be shamelessly guilty of inconsistency between books in the interests of being true to the current story?
As you might guess, I’m favouring the latter approach. If I needed an excuse, I might point out that Antyllus’ function in Gaius and Achilles was to be part of Gaius’ story. We were focused on the parts of his life that touched on Gaius’ and the rest was background shading. Gaius did not know Antyllus at the time of the current work-in-progress so his own understanding of that period of Antyllus’ life might be somewhat hazy.
The process has parallels with real life; if you have a slight acquaintance with an old friend of a friend, you know what the friend has told you about them, and your perception of them is skewed by how they relate to your friend. If, later on, you come to know them well yourself, you discover that, while your friend told you no untruth about them, the full story is more complicated and parts of it might start to wear a very different aspect.
Antyllus in Gaius and Achilles is there largely to be a neurotic and tantrumy pain in the arse. Obviously, he can’t now be all sweetness and light and the epitome of well-balanced, but I’m finding that he is not turning out as tempestuous or self-destructive as I expected in this story, because his circumstances are so different. In Gaius and Achilles, he is a very damaged young man but he by then he is in a relatively safe and secure position. He can afford to let the damage show a little, to process his trauma. In the current story, he is fighting his way free of the circumstances of his trauma, thus he actually appears less obviously damaged sometimes, because he is in survival mode.
At various stages of our life we may present very different aspects of ourselves to different people and fictional characters are no otherwise. It seems a certain willingness to be flexible and seemingly inconsistent at times may be key when you have the same characters popping up in different stories.
I would be intrigued to know whether other writers with re-occurring characters have faced such questions and if so how they addressed them?
In this book, Catherine Edwards surveys Roman elite discourse around various manifestations of “immorality” including the theatre, “effeminacy”, luxurious housing, gluttony and expenditure. Her aim is to explore what the moralists’ focus on particular vices reveals about the anxieties of the Roman elite in justifying and maintaining their status. The point is made, for example, that constantly accusing other politicians of “effeminacy” as well as serving as useful invective against that individual, also serves to reinforce the inevitability of male dominance in public life by fixing the association between women and laziness, weakness, and depravity.
As my current work in progress is a novella about the rise of a young man (Antyllus) from slave prostitute to pantomime dancer, the chapter that was of especial interest to me was the one exploring the Romans’ very ambivalent attitudes to the theatre and to actors themselves. Although the Roman public of all classes were keen theatre goers, there was a lingering suspicion of the theatre as somehow ‘unroman’, luxurious, depraved and generally suspect. The performers themselves occupied a highly ambivalent position in society.
On the one hand, their performances could win them admiration, fame and riches, not to mention in some cases an entree into the highest social and political circles, on the other, they were legally classed as infames, a status they shared with gladiators and prostitutes. Actors were sometimes slaves and often former slaves: even when they were free their status deprived them of the civil rights and protection officially guaranteed to most citizens. Their testimony had reduced weight in a court of law, they could not vote or stand for office and, most worryingly, they had no legal protection from violence. While only slaves were supposed to be subject by law to physical punishment, actors could be flogged on the orders of a magistrate, though this law was modified under the principate, restricting this power to the occasion of performances.
The Roman elite seem to have had an especial horror of citizen men and women performing on the stage, appearing to regard it as something very close to prostitution or servitude, in that the performer was displaying themselves for the pleasure of others. The fact that male actors acted women’s parts and that mime actors were sometimes women also contributed to their reputation of depravity. That Nero or Caligula performed on stage is mentioned by Roman writers with the same outrage as their acts of murder and incest.
Exploring the reasoning behind the anomalously low status of actors (they suffered no such disrespect in Greek culture) Edwards points out how the servile or lower class actor shared with the political elite the power to address a crowd of thousands and that the parallels between the orator and the hired performer would have been disturbing to the former. Stigmatising the actor as depraved, effeminate and outcast had the function of undermining the subversive potential of a voice that could fill a vast auditorium.
