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And it’s giving us a lot to think about.
Venice continues to be lovely and also at this moment rather warm and sweaty. After a morning of seeing art we’ve retreated back to the air conditioning of our hotel room. We’ll go back out again when we’re not so darn sticky.
— JS
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sovay
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The little island town of Burano, which for all the world looks just like someone set designed the place. Cute tiny colorful homes set next to a canal? Check! You half expect Popeye to show up, singing a sea shanty. But it is, indeed, real. And apparently it’s against the law to change the house colors without permission. The things you learn.
We’re still on vacation. It’s still lovely.
— JS
sartoriasmrissamrissaIsa Arsén, The Unbecoming of Margaret Wolf. Look, when a character tells you that their favorite Shakespearean character (as an actress) is Lady Macbeth and then another major character says their favorite play is Titus Andronicus--whose favorite play is Titus Andronicus? I demanded when I first got to that part. And then the book went on and OH NO OH GOD OH NO. Anyway, from the beginning you will get a clear sense that this is a setting that will tear people to shreds (1950s theater world!) and that some of the people in question will assist their milieu in their own destruction. Be forewarned on that. For me the prose voice made all the difference in the world, for you it might not make enough difference to be worth that shape of book if you're really not in a good place for it. This book goes hard, but uh...not any more pleasantly than my first sentence there would lead you to expect.
Andrea Barrett, Dust and Light: On the Art of Fact in Fiction. I was a little disappointed in this, I think because I was expecting more/broader theory. It was in a lot of places a process case study, which is interesting too, and I'm not sorry I read it, I was just expecting something grander, I think.
Agatha Christie, Hickory Dickory Dock and Peril at End House. These sure were mysteries by Agatha Christie.
Justene Hill Edwards, Savings and Trust: The Rise and Betrayal of the Freedman's Bank. Very straightforwardly does what it says on the tin. A thing we should all know happened, in terms of Black Americans and finance, this book gets in and gets out and does what it needs to do.
Kate Elliott, The Witch Roads. Discussed elsewhere.
Margaret Frazer, The Witch's Tale. Kindle. This is one of the short stories, and it was clearly something Frazer needed to say about justice and community, and it got in and said it and got out. For heaven's sake do not start here, this is a series story that's leaning heavily on you already caring about this place and these people and not spending many of its quite few words in introducing them to you.
Max Gladstone, Last Exit. Reread. This book made me cry four times on the reread. I knew it was coming, I knew what was going to happen, I had not forgotten many (on some cellular level: any) of the details, and yet, dammit, Gladstone, ya did it to me again. With my own connivance this time. Anyway gosh this is good, this is doing all sorts of things with power and community and priorities and old friendships and adulthood and, the reason I read it: American road trips. Oh, and weather! I read it for my road trip panel, it also related to my weather panel, frankly I brought it up during a couple of other panels as well. This booook.
Reginald Hill, On Beulah Height. Reread. Back to back reread bangers, although this one only made me cry once. I am not a big crier over books. Such a good series mystery, by which I mean that it works as a mystery but also, and more crucially, as a novel about some people you've already had a chance to know, so you know what their reactions mean even when they're not in your home register. (Or, if you're from Yorkshire, even if they are.)
Jordan Ifueko, The Maid and the Crocodile. Magical and fun and full of textured worldbuilding and clear character motivation, I really liked this.
Sarah Kay, A Little Daylight Left. The sort of deeply gripping volume of poetry that makes me add everything else the poet has written to my reading list.
Nnedi Okorafor, One Way Witch. A prequel, a mother's story, which is not something we see often. Interesting, not long.
Rebecca Roanhorse, Trail of Lightning. Reread. Also reread for my road trip panel, also pertained to my weather panel--are there any road trip novels that's not true for? Is a road trip in part a way to make modern people vulnerable to smaller-scale weather forces? In any case, I liked the ragged edges here, I liked the things she tied up neatly but also the things she refused to.
Sean Stewart, Galveston. Reread. To my relief, this holds up 25 years after I first read it: storms of magic, layers of history, weird alternate worlds overlapping with this one, hurrah.
Greg van Eekhout, Cog. Reread. A charming and delightful sto
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There’s magic to be found everywhere you look, even in a mall! At least, such is the case in author Auston Habershaw’s newest novel, If Wishes Were Retail. Come along in his Big Idea to see how this idea initially set up shop in his brain.
AUSTON HABERSHAW:
When I graduated from college, I had a really clear idea of what I wanted to do with my life: I wanted to be a novelist. I’d already written a novel during college (I will never inflict it upon anyone, I promise) and I figured, if I worked hard and focused on my goals, I’d be a professional author making a comfortable salary by the time I was 25.
I’ll pause here for your peals of laughter.
…
Done yet? No?
…(checks watch)…
Okay, okay—the point here is that I needed to get a job in order to pursue my dreams. For that period of time (my early-mid twenties), the idea was to get a job that wouldn’t occupy much of my attention so that I could focus the balance of my efforts towards writing. That’s how I wound up doing a lot of odd jobs and minimum wage gigs. I was a coffee barista, a restaurant server, a lifeguard, a swim instructor, a theme park performer (I dressed as a pirate), an SAT tutor, a hotel bellhop, and so on and so forth. I spent most of my time broke and barely able to pay rent and in the evenings I bashed my head against a keyboard until words came out and I published exactly nothing. I was exhausted, usually hungry, but still chasing that dream.
And that, right there, is where If Wishes Were Retail comes from. Everybody’s got a dream, right? And the world just gets in the way, you know? Money, opportunity, luck, health, family—the list of obstacles to “making it” are endless, or so it seems. Enter the genie.
I mean, everybody’s thought about it, right? If you could get 3 wishes, what would they be? We ask ourselves that, over and over, because just about no one is content with the state of their lives. There’s always some mountaintop we have yet to reach, and the only way we feel we’ll ever get there is, essentially, an act of God. A lottery ticket. A mysterious stranger, offering us a deal for our soul. A genie in a lamp. Rare, mythical things; unheard of strokes of fortune. We all recognize that is never going to happen to us. The world just doesn’t work that way.
But what if it did? Say we have a genie and he’s just there, you know? In public, doing his thing. Anyone can just walk up and make a wish. Now, of course, the genie has goals of his own and dreams he’d like to see realized, so he’s charging money for wishes. Cash. Walk up to him with a stack of twenties and plonk it down and BAM, you could have the life you’ve always wanted. What would you wish for? How much would you spend?
When preparing to write this book, I asked people I met those two questions. I would say “what if you could make a wish, but it cost money? What’s the wish? What would you pay?” This was a fascinating experiment. First off, a lot of people wouldn’t wish at all. They assumed the genie was malevolent and they wouldn’t get what they paid for. Second, people would make outrageously powerful wishes (World peace! A cure for all cancers! My own private moon!) and then offer some piddling sum, like ten bucks or something. “What’s it matter,” they’d say. “It doesn’t require any effort on the part of the genie! What does he care?” Everyone agreed, though, that the money—having to pay for a wish—sort of ruined the “magic” of it all. Money got in the way of their dreams.
I wanna repeat that last bit: money got in the way of their dreams. Ya THINK? Could, possibly, money and the way our economic system works interfere with people’s ability to achieve happiness and satisfaction in their lives? NO, SURELY NOT. Everyone, we live in capitalism, the fairest and most beautiful-est system ever, where the only thing that stands between you and complete material and spiritual satisfaction is hard work! Just work hard, and everything will work out! I have been informed by my lawyers that this is entirely 100% accurate with no loopholes or conditions whatsoever.
Hang on, someone is handing me a note…
…oh.
Oh no.
And, not only, does our capitalist system make it difficult to achieve our dreams, it also just so happens that we, fallible mortal creatures that we are, are incorrect about what we want! We wish for stupid, selfish things! We seek self-destructive ends! So, like, even assuming you manage to run the gauntlet of 21st century late-stage capitalism to somehow, maybe hack your way to the top of the artisanal bagel shop market only to realize you hate it and are miserable anyway. And that, friends, is a super-common problem that not even a genie can fix! How’s the genie supposed to know that you would hate being a fashion mogul? And even if he knew, would you listen to him if he told you?
I wrote this book to reflect upon the ways in which our grind-mentality, sleep-when-you’re-dead, coffee-is-for-closers culture has led us astray. Our society has created essentially infinite obstacles in an unending labyrinth that we have been told leads to happiness and fulfillment and we expend such massive amounts of energy seeking these things only to miss sight of all the things we could have that are right in front of us. It’s tragic sometimes, but it’s also funny and absurd and just, like, life you know? What are you gonna do, not be human?
Anyway, I wrote a book about this. It’s funny and it has a genie in a failing mall seen from the point of view of a teenager with big dreams, just like I was. Just like maybe you were or even are. Here’s hoping it’s exactly what you want and exactly what you’re willing to pay.
If Wishes Were Retail: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s
Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Facebook
Read an excerpt.
wwdn_feedLift every voice and sing,
‘Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on ’til victory is won.
I did not know about Juneteenth until I was in my 40s. I recall how embarrassed and ashamed I felt, but it just wasn’t taught to me in school, and America doesn’t exactly go out of her way to teach privileged white kids like me about the horrors our ancestors inflicted on generations of human beings. Hopefully, that has changed.
In the extremely unlikely event you are hearing about this for the first time: “Juneteenth, officially Juneteenth National Independence Day, is a federal holiday in the United States. It is celebrated annually on June 19 to commemorate the ending of slavery in the United States. The holiday’s name, first used in the 1890s, is a portmanteau of the words June and nineteenth, referring to June 19, 1865, the day when Major General Gordon Granger ordered the final enforcement of the Emancipation Proclamation in Texas at the end of the American Civil War.”
As the institutions and corporations that influence so much of American culture draw shamefully away from celebrating and honoring marginalized communities, including communities of color, it falls (as it always does) to us, the people, to step up and use our collective voice to speak out so our friends, neighbors, and fellow humans who do not have the same privilege that so many of us have are seen and heard.
Here’s LeVar Burton reading the Black National Anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” Google put this on their doodle a few years ago. Today, there is nothing. Shameful. My bad. My VPN autoconnected to the UK, and when I reset it to the US, I see that Google is honoring Juneteenth. I regret the error.
alpennia_feedI started some comments to put in this blog section of the post, then realized they fit better into the "Introduction" part of the publication record. So I'm left with nothing of substance to say here. Some day I should post a blog showing the underlying data structure of the Project so that this sort of thing makes sense to readers. (Assuming anyone cares.)
Cleves, Rachel Hope. 2014. Charity & Sylvia: A Same-Sex Marriage in Early America. Oxford University Press, Oxford. ISBN 978-0-19-933542-8
Chapter 3 & 4
I have become fascinated with the cyclicity of historical trends--not necessarily the "big stuff" like wars and forms of government, but the way certain concepts and reactions cycle over and over again, in different forms, but with similar shapes and consequence-chains. We see this in Valerie Traub's idea of "cycles of salience" where specific manifestations of female homoeroticism have dominated social awareness at different times. We see this in the "waves" of feminism, which began long before "first wave" feminism, where women agitate against the specific injustices of their time, make progress to address those injustices, then are hit by backlash that recurs in similar forms, time and time again.
Today's chapters from Charity and Sylvia touch on one of those cycles: the "generation gap" (my label, not the author's). Some sort of social or political disruption occurs that leads a younger generation to have sufficiently different understandings of society that disrupts the idea of learning from and following the lead of the older generation. I'm not talking about a constant background radiation of "kids these days!" but the points at which a generation has literally grown up in an entirely different world from their parents, affecting expectations and assumptions. For Charity and Sylvia, that disruption was the American Revolution, not only due to the physical and economic hardship, but because of embracing the principles that you didn't have to accept "the way things are." That you can make drastic changes in your relationship to authority structures. Authority structures like family hierarchies.
One of the pervasive threads in this book--and an aspect of history that can be hard for modern people to grasp entirely--was the essential interconnectedness of communities. For queer people, that interconnectedness has often been a threat: the need to hide or conform in order to not lose that essential economic stability the community and family provide. The quintessential American archetype of the independent loner who rejects society's demands has always been mostly an illusion. When Sylvia's brother struck out for the "wilds" of Vermont, his success was not that of an independent loner, but of someone who identified key social structures and wove himself into them. (Marrying the boss's daughter has always been a useful strategy.) and when he achieved that success, his first thought was to pull in the loosened strands of his family and weave them back into cloth again.
Charity's family was badly disrupted by autocratic and controling parents, with the result that their children took any opportunity to get out from under their thumb. (A "generation gap" that might have been harder to implement without the general atmosphere of liberatoin.) But those threads were still tangled. Charity's professional life was made possible by the anchors of various siblings who hosted her during her teaching years, allowing her to move between communities while still being tied to them. On the other side, for a single woman to be able to make a living as a teacher was made possible by significant attitude shifts regarding public education that emerged out of the Enlightenment and the disruption of Colonial era attitudes toward the relationship between government and the public good.
Did Charity and Sylvia come to the conclusion that their fantasy of a female "marriage" was possible because of those disruptions to social patterns? It's always hard to distinguish the larger patterns from the particular cases. In several places, Cleves draws parallels between Charity & Sylvia and the similar relationshps of Ponsonby & Butler and Lister & Walker. Yes, they lived in a similar era, but their socio-political contexts were quite different. To what extent is it reasonable to consider them part of a larger pattern of queer possibility and to what extent is the urge toward queer partnerships a constant with individual cases popping into visibility for random reasons and then given undue weight because of that visibility?
Ok, I'm starting to ramble now. But since one of the goals of the Project is to identify larger patterns in history that can help root characters and stories into the particularity of a time and place, these questions are always on my mind.
# # #
Chapter 3: O the Example! 1787
The Revolution had inspired something of a “generation gap” as younger people took seriously the ideals of liberty and independence and were less inclined to reflexively bow to parental and employer authority. Another legacy of the Revolution was the valorization of intimate same-sex friendships among both men and women. These friendships had the potential to displace the familial bonds that had previously been the essential basis for economic success. Such friendships had the same potential as m/f relationships for both joy and tragic break-ups. One of Charity’s brothers suffered greatly from the destruction of one such friendship, which may have affected some of her ambivalence about intimate relationships.
Another of her brothers also had an intimate friendship with that same man, and there was conflict between the brothers over contrasting loyalties. [Note: Although the author doesn’t make the connection at this point, these close same-sex friendships may have been a model for Charity’s own socializing later. Also note: I’m using “intimate friendship” in the sense of a highly particular, intensely emotional bond, without necessarily implying an erotic component.]
Resistance to parental attempts to dictate their lives led to most of Charity’s siblings eventually distancing themselves from their father and step-mother. Her sisters struggled harder to find a path other than marriage. One had poetic aspirations, but chose marriage at 20. Another married even younger. Both moved away from the family neighborhood at marriage. That left Charity as the only child at home at age 15. Charity clashed regularly with her stepmother, perhaps over her distaste for the endless housework, preferring literary activities. These gave her a common focus for close friendships with other young women in the community.
At age 20, after a conflict with her father, he threw Charity out of the house and she went to live with one of her married sisters. In the next decade, Charity moved between several communities, living with relatives, and formed a number of close friendships with women who were drawn by her intellect and bold spirit. But the admiration she attracted also sparked gossip and tension within those communities.
Chapter 4: Mistress of a School 1797
Charity worked as a school teacher, which fit well with her skills and interests, though she had a low opinion of many of her students. Like several of her siblings, she was a poet. At first, she boarded with her sister Anna. After some problems with gossip (more on which later), and a minor medical crisis, she moved back in with her parents until that became untenable. Then she went to live with a brother in western Massachusetts, where she resumed teaching. Then back to join Anna in a different locations. Despite these various moves and occasional breaks from teaching, the profession gave her freedom and economic independence, if not a very substantial income.
Post-revolutionary America encouraged general education, creating new employment opportunities for educated women (as they could be paid less than male teachers). Young female teachers often wrote about their “liberty” from parental oversight and restrictions (and the expectation of domestic labor if they remained at home).
Charity became a prolific letter writer, as well as a poet, often describing her life in dramatic and sentimental terms, as if narrating a novel.
She often wrote poems as gifts to friends, and was considered talented. She and her correspondents sometimes had pet names for each other used in their letters.
In her writing, Charity praised the virtues of modesty and sincerity, though she didn’t always recognize her own failings in those areas. Others viewed her pride and self-confidence as deviating from feminine ideals.
wwdn_feedI’ve been open and unashamed about my mental health struggles and triumphs, always willing to talk about my CPTSD, always willing to supportively listen when someone chooses to share their experience with me.
I make this choice every day, because I am doing my best to be the person I need in the world. I need people who are kind and compassionate, who are willing to share their struggles and victories in a way that validates my own experiences. I make this choice so that maybe I can be the person I need, for someone I will never meet, the way people like Jenny Lawson, or Gabe and Tycho from Penny Arcade were for me, when I was beginning my healing journey.
It’s in that spirit that I’m writing today. This is sort of a general update on how that journey is going, and a look at where I am, with some thoughts on how I got here.
So, broadly and generally speaking, I’m doing great! I mean, everything in the whole world is terrible, but the little bit of reality that’s being rendered around me at any given moment is pretty great. I’m healthy and safe, my family is healthy and safe, I have all the work I need, I have time and space for activities.
But … the chaos, cruelty, rage, and unpredictability coming out of the White House is identical to what I experienced growing up1 and holy shit has that activated a lot of stuff for my body to remember.
For the two weeks or so that preceded Sunday, I woke up to intense anxiety every morning, before I was even fully awake and aware of anything. It was really unpleasant, but at least I knew that it was nervous system dysregulation2, and I have a lot of skills I can use to help my nervous system get back into a parasympathetic, resting, state. I’m grateful that I know what to do, but my god did I wish I didn’t have to do it every morning at the start of my day.3
Then, Sunday, I woke up like Frodo in Rivendell, and I have, every morning since. I don’t feel tight and clenched in my chest. I haven’t sweat through my pajamas and woken up shivering. I have had peace and warmth and gentle calm.
And the thing is, I didn’t know when this would happen, but I knew that it would. This sort of nervous system freakout thing tends to happen when I’ve been working hard to reprocess one or more specific traumas, and I’m really close to closing a circle on my imaginary trauma healing watch. It’s like my body doesn’t realize, yet, that I’m safe and I’m now, and it needs to be gently coaxed out of dysregulation.
I’ve closed a few metaphorical circles over the years since I started EMDR and IFS therapy, and I have had some version of this experience each time. When it does, I imagine a drawing of my body, like from one of those old Disney SCIENCE IS FUN cartoons. In some places, there is fear and anxiety.4 In others, confusion5. Depending on how old I am in the drawing, there’s anger and resentment6. And all around these memories, connected to each of them, is sadness and loss. Over time, as I’ve worked so hard to heal from the abuse of my emotionally immature, toxic parents, those pieces I see in the drawing have faded away, eventually joining together in lingering loss and sadness.
And honestly, I’m okay with that. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to acknowledge the loss. I hasten to clarify that this took literal years of work. When I first began to see all the sadness, it was like looking into infinity. When I first felt the enormity and profundity of the loss, it was free falling into an abyss. There were a lot of stops and starts as I learned how to regulate it, how to reprocess it in a way that wasn’t overwhelming.
Again, not easy. Again, years. Again, worth it.
Now, listen, I am not a doctor and I have no professional experience or education. I’m just sharing my experience. But if you see something familiar, I encourage you to look into what nervous system dysregulation is, and learn some of the techniques we use to calm our bodies down when they aren’t on the same page as our mind, our soul, our Self.
A few resources I value include
There’s a somatic component to emotional healing and trauma recovery that I didn’t expect. It’s only recently that my emotional self and my physical self have started to work in harmony, and that wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t know that the somatic part existed. It’s taken such a long time, and though the work is ongoing, I hope that someone who needs to know that they aren’t alone sees this. I hope this helps on your own healing journey.
Thanks for reading my blog. If you would like to get these updates in your email, here’s a thing:
Take care of yourselves, friends, and take care of each other.
︎︎︎︎︎︎scalziwhatever_feed
If you’ve been reading my posts for a bit, you may remember me doing a piece or two over my favorite restaurant, Salar. The posts I’ve done have been featuring their wonderful monthly wine dinners they host, but today I’m here to talk about one of their other monthly events I enjoy: Salar’s Mixology Monday!
This was the second Mixology Monday I’ve attended, the theme of this one being “Blended Beverages.” Listen, I’m a basic white girl, you already know I love a fun, blended bevvie. What I dislike, though, is the sound of a blender, especially if I’m dining at a fine establishment. It totally ruins the vibes and detracts from the classy aura of a really nice restaurant.
Fortunately, our lovely mixologist for the evening feels the exact same way, and the event was held on the secluded back patio of the restaurant so we wouldn’t disturb other guests. Salar’s back patio is my favorite patio in Dayton. It has a beautiful pergola, pretty string lights, and tons of plants that make it feel vibrant and lush.
Check out the mixologist’s setup:
I thought it was odd there was a dish of poppyseeds, but upon closer inspection it was black lava salt for rimming the glass. My (silly) mistake!
Since Salar is a Peruvian restaurant, I started off with a blended Pisco Sour, which I was informed is the national drink of Peru.
This was so light and refreshing, the fact it was all icy and frozen only added to that refreshing-ness. She actually let me mix this myself, which was fun.
One of my favorite things about Salar is that when you dine here, their version of “bread for the table” is housemade pita and hummus, which was served at this event, as well:
Their hummus is so unique, it’s super herbaceous and fresh tasting, and their pita is perfectly golden brown and crisp. I love that they start you off with something so fun compared to just regular bread and butter (not that I don’t also love good bread and butter).
Unlike their monthly wine dinners, where everyone is served their own plate per course, the Mixology Mondays have a smaller crowd (only about ten people) and are more casual in tone, so the food is served family style on larger platters that get passed around, and you just take however much you want and put it on your own plate.
Here’s some roasted veggies we were served:
There was also a salad with grilled chicken, elote, and some kind of really yummy green dressing over top, but I failed to get a picture of that one. I do, however, have a picture of the tofu dish the kitchen made for someone with dietary restrictions, and that looked tasty:
Actually, I now notice that the salad the tofu is sitting on top of is definitely the same salad mix that the one with chicken had, so just imagine that salad but with chicken on top instead and that’s what I had.
Of course, gotta get our second bev going:
I absolutely love this pineapple glass it was served it, plus the pineapple toothpick and pineapple frond decoration was so cute. This drink was made with blackberries, raspberries, I honestly don’t remember what else but it was so fruity and totes delish! I felt transported to a hammock on a beach.
Even though I came alone, everyone was sat at one long table and I ended up having some great conversations with my tablemates. It was so fun chatting, sharing food, sipping our drinks, it was definitely more friendly and chill than I was expecting. Good vibes all around.
And to finish the evening, a strawberry margarita made with Mezcal, with a tajin covered lime for optimal enjoyment:
As you can probably tell, it was pretty warm out so the drinks did tend to melt kind of quickly, but they tasted just as good in liquid form as frozen form, so I can’t complain too much.
All in all, both the food and the drinks were super summery and tasty, the conversation was easy-going and fun, and it was just a pleasant way to spend a Monday evening. I look forward to the next one of these I attend.
What’s the best complimentary bread and butter you’ve had at a restaurant? Do you like pisco sours? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
-AMS
alpennia_feedCleve's biography of Charity and Sylvia takes an approach that both makes the book more readable and requires the audience to read critically. In order to fill in the background and the silences of their lives, we get a lot of general historical details that help make sense of the decisions and actions of their families. But in order to try to contextualize their emotional lives, we also get a lot of interpolation from other lives. "Here is this thing that someone else felt; they could have felt this too." We know that this person was writing poetry about love between women in England at the same era, they might possibly have been familiar with it." Interspersed with quotations from their surviving correspondence, we also get descriptions of things they are asserted to have done, thought, and felt that are not cited to a specific source and that I interpret as being drawn from the author's imagination. I'm of two minds about this approach. One the one hand, it makes for a clearer storyline, in the same way that tv or movie presentations of people's lives fill in or omit details, or rearrange timelines, in order to present a more coherent story. But as someone who is looking for the verifiable facts of history in order to better be able to do similar extrapolations, I'd rather have a clear distinction made in my history books between fact and imagination.
Cleves, Rachel Hope. 2014. Charity & Sylvia: A Same-Sex Marriage in Early America. Oxford University Press, Oxford. ISBN 978-0-19-933542-8
Chapter 1 & 2
Chapter 1: A Child of Melancholy 1777
Charity’s mother died of consumption shortly after Charity’s birth in 1777, in the middle of the Revolutionary War. She was the last of 10 children. Death haunted the family with three of Charity’s grandparents and her oldest brother also dying within the same 2-year period.
Charity felt the absence of her mother keenly (as documented in poems on the subject), despite never having known her. Charity was named for a “spinster” aunt, famed as a seamstress, who may have served as something of a role model. Both due to her mother’s illness during pregnancy and the lack of mother’s milk, Charity was a sickly infant and considered unlikely to survive. She was supported through it by a hired nurse who became a family friend, and by the care of a slightly older sister, Anne. Charity’s father remarried (the date of the marriage is not given here) but her stepmother evidently had little affection for her.
Chapter 2: Infantile Days 1784
Sylvia’s childhood was a contrast to Charity’s. She had a loving mother and family, neither war nor illness devastated the family, but the disruptions of the Revolution did leave them bankrupt and homeless. (In contrast, Charity’s family was well off.) Like Charity, Sylvia was the youngest of a large family.
[Note: The book often digs deeply into the historic context of the women’s lives, as with the post-war economic crisis in Massachusetts. There is also a lot of social history background to provide context for how people understood the women’s lives and affections. I’m not going to take notes on those aspects in detail, but simply stick to the outlines of the couple’s lives.]
The town Sylvia’s family lived in was poor and crime-ridden. When her grandfarther’s death meant selling off their property to settle debts, the family split up to live with or work for various relations. Because of Sylvia’s youth, she stayed with her mother and invented fantasies in her poetry of the comfortable togetherness that she had never actually known.
One of her brothers moved to Vermont for better opportunities and found trhem in plenty, marrying his employer’s daughter and becoming a land holder. This allowed him to invite the rest of the family to join him (except for the father, who died on the journey). Vermont was far less developed than Massachusetts, providing more opportunities for men, but fewer for women.
shewhomust
durham_rambler had discovered from FaceBook that Kate Fox was also staying on Holy Island, and had made a date to meet her this morning at the Causeway Café, which is a van that parks, as it happens, just adjacent to our garden. So we were able to scoop Kate up and bring her back here to sit in the garden and drink tea, and talk more than we have, at a guess, in the last twenty or thirty years. We are always pleased to see each other (well, I'm always pleased to see her, and when we saw her a year ago she seemed pleased to see us, but it'ms usually incidentally to doing something else, so we don't get time to chat. She had brought with her her little book On Sycamore Gap, in case, she said, she ran into someone she wanted to give one to: and she seemed as pleased to have given us a copy as we were to be given one.scalziwhatever_feed
Coming back to ideas with fresh eyes is always a good idea. For author Aimee Ogden, it was eight years before she revisited the story that would come to be her newest novella, Starstruck. Check out her Big Idea to see how she made this story shine.
AIMEE OGDEN:
Ten years ago, I had the Big Idea that would become Starstruck: a world where each falling star held a soul that would animate whatever plant or animal it fell on. What would happen if those stars stopped falling? And what about when something got a soul that was never supposed to have one?
I wrote a book I loved about that idea—a fantasy for YA readers—and queried it with around a hundred different agents. And I got an equivalently hundred-adjacent number of rejections. C’est la vie écrivaine; I cried, presumably ate a cookie or two about it, and buried it in my trunk of failed stories, never to be seen again.
It turned out that out of sight did not mean out of mind. Starstruck haunted me (the book itself embodied, occasionally, in the person of a friend who also cared about it a lot), until two years ago, I exhumed the story’s corpse, and I was happy to find it still had good bones. They just needed to be arranged into a different order; and there was a fair bit of carrion flesh to strip away, too, to pare it down to a novella.
I still had a magical world of falling stars. I still had the same main characters: an abandoned human child, a gentle fox, her pragmatic radish wife, and a rock with delusions of destiny. Even the climactic moment stayed almost unchanged from the original version, except for the paring back of some elements that had proved extraneous to the story.
But the original version was YA, and the story had centered around the human boy. I hadn’t read widely enough yet to expand my conception of what a lead character could or should be. Coming back to it, I knew right away that I only wanted to write about a middle-aged radish. A magical middle-aged radish with a soul, and her enormous love, and her silent, squashed-aside regrets, and her utter inability to cope with a chunk of granite that told her it had a name and a birthday and a favorite color.
If I’d been paying more attention, I probably should have known where the story’s emotional heart lay the first time around—in the original version, the final scenes take place from the radish perspective. Even before I understood this was her story, I must have sensed that the needed closure could only come from her.
Or maybe I couldn’t have known yet. Eight years is a big gap to develop and change as a writer, and to accrue emotional baggage besides. Without that time, and without the double regret of failing with and then abandoning Starstruck, it couldn’t have been the same book. And as pleased as I was with it the first time around, it’s better now for its chance for maturation, and I have more room in my well-used, middle-aged heart with which to love it. Maybe you do, too. How do you feel about radishes?
Starstruck: Publisher website
sovayscalziwhatever_feed
Someone is a little too excited to be on the Scalzi Bridge, with the Scalzi Church in the background to the left, about to have dinner at the Ai Scalzi restaurant. It was an all Scalzi day yesterday, you see. And it was all lovely, even if the dork pictured above clearly was not at all cool about it. Shine on, silly dork!
— JS
athenaiscalimac for a really knowledgeable and specific reaction to the symphony!)alpennia_feedI'm blogging a new book starting today, which will probably run for about ten days worth of posts. The early 19th century romance of Charity and Sylvia is "unique" only in how well documented it was, due to both being prolific correspondents, both being poets (a context for recording their emotional lives in more detail than might otherwise have happened), and due to their families being supportive enough of their "marriage" to have turned their papers over to a local historian rather than destroying them (though much of their correspondence had been destroyed at various crucial points in their lives). Like many other iconic f/f couples, studying their lives is important not simply for the particularity, but also for what it says about the possibilities for women generally. (And--as with Anne Lister--for the incidental documentation of a wider informal network of women whose romantic interests were for other women.)
Cleves, Rachel Hope. 2014. Charity & Sylvia: A Same-Sex Marriage in Early America. Oxford University Press, Oxford. ISBN 978-0-19-933542-8
Preface
The book opens with a description of a pair of cut silhouettes, framed with a lock of hair and labeled with the names of the two women. There follows an overview of their lives (which are then covered in much more detail in the chapters). Both women had determined not to marry. Both came from large families, though of different character. They met in 1807 and set up a household together where the continued as an acknowledged couple for 44 years. All their neighbors and relatives knew they were a couple and used the language of marriage for them, though the law treated them as two single women, e.g., for tax purposes. They lived gender-coded roles, with Charity taking on the husband-coded activities and Sylvia the wife-coded ones. After death, their relatives buried them together with a single headstone.
The author asserts that their sexuality must have been an “open secret” as “marriage was considered an inherently sexual institution.” In small communities, social harmony relied on people quietly overlooking facts that would disrupt society. And it may be noteworthy that female couples of that era usually dreamed of rural retreats rather than longing for urban anonymity. Charity and Sylvia’s lives were deeply intertwined with their families and community. They were accepted even when not entirely approved of. They were active with church and charities, supported their relations in sickness and hardship, and supported the local economy in the structure of their tailoring business. They were considered pillars of the community. Their remarkable union was even documented in a newspaper during their lifetimes, though without giving their names.
Charity (the elder) had numerous romantic relationships with women before meeting Sylvia, and her earlier life was the subject of gossip and rumor. Perhaps for that reason, she arranged for most of her writings, memoirs, and letters written to intimate friends to be destroyed. Sylvia, who survived her, had no such attitude and preserved all their documents after Charity’s death, though some items may have been weeded out. After Sylvia’s death, their papers were given to a local historian.
Stories like this one emphasize how spotty the historic record is for f/f couples, as so many women did destroy their papers (or their surviving relatives destroyed them out of a concern for the family’s reputation).
This introductory chapter concludes with a review of the available documentation.
[Note: A couple of observations that apply to the entire book. The chapters are numerous but very short, which is why I’ll be clustering them for the blog. Cleves often assigns thoughts, feelings, reactions, and actions to her subjects that are note cited to specific documentation, but neither are they explicitly framed as rooted in the author’s imagination. It is sometimes difficult to tell when she is speculating and when she may be summarizing actual data that isn’t supported by quoted material. She brings in contextual material about female same-sex relationships that are more explicit regarding sexuality, such as details from the lives of Anne Lister and from Addie Brown and Rebecca Primus, then speculates that Charity and her various intimate friends may have engaged in similar practices. These approaches make for better storytelling and provide a richer picture of what their lives may have been, but at the expense of historical clarity. The undiscerning reader can easily come away with the impression that these various interpolations are factual rather than imaginative.]
alfreda89rolanni. I enjoyed the two Maine mysteries she did that I've read (I have the plain white cover ones, it was in the Olden Days). Plus if you are young enough that you never even heard of chat rooms or local intermediaries to the Internet? Here you go!scalziwhatever_feed - We’re Seeing Artsovay - I'm man enough to be a party girl and dance all night, the American highscalziwhatever_feed - When Life Looks Like a Movie Setsartorias - I'm back.mrissa - What a Fish Looks like, by Syr Hayati Bekermrissa - Books read, early Junescalziwhatever_feed - The Big Idea: Auston Habershawwwdn_feed - lift every voice and singalpennia_feed - Everything New is Old Againwwdn_feed - it picks me up, puts me downxkcd_feed - Tukeyscalziwhatever_feed - Mixology Monday At Salaralpennia_feed - Building a Picture of a Queer Lifeshewhomust - Two pleasuresscalziwhatever_feed - The Big Idea: Aimee Ogdensovay - Why don't you ever let me love you?scalziwhatever_feed - Today in “Look at This Dork”athenais - Music and flowersalpennia_feed - America's Answer to Anne Lister?alfreda89 - For Audiobook fans--a murder mystery set in Maine by Sharon Lee is on sale!sforzindatimeasmymeasure
