Allison Pittman's On Shifting Sand, set in Dust Bowl Oklahoma.
So What Are you Reading?: Generations
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~ This reminds me: one of my favourite short stories is in the first volume of SNW, "Of Cabbages and Kings" by Franklin Thatcher. I'm reading it now
~ This reminds me: one of my favourite short stories is in the first volume of SNW, "Of Cabbages and Kings" by Franklin Thatcher. I'm reading it now
Oh, yes, that was great too. My favorites in the first volume were that one, "Fiction," and "What Went Through Data's Mind 0.68 Seconds Before the Satellite Hit."
A woman I work with is the daughter of someone who is published in that first SNW. Her mom is kind of well know in fanfic circles, as far as I can tell. I think I’m the first person she’s ever met to care about her mother’s writing.
I am listening
to firewall.. I have never read (listened to) anything by David Mack.. it's great 
I'm about a quarter of the way through, and I'm on the fence on this one.I am listening
If you like audio books, I recommend Ready Player One read by Will Wheaton. He does a good job.
I just got the new Star Trek magazine and read the new Sulu and Saavik story by Greg Cox. I'm so happy to see another new story involving Saavik I want to see her in more Star Trek books again .I really like her character and I thought it was a mistake they didn't use her characters in the books a long time ago. I thought she was a great character and should've been use din the movie era books.
The Prisoner of Zenda, by Anthony Hope.
The second son of a minor English noble family goes on a European tour and visits the eastern European country that's connected to his family by a scandal a century earlier, and he quickly discovers that he's the identical distant cousin of the soon to be crowned Ruritanian king. Many hijinks ensue when the king's not-quite-bastard brother (born of a morganatic marriage) kidnaps the king in a plot to claim the crown for himself, and the identical English cousin has to step in as the king, woo the princess, defeat the not-quite-bastard, and save the real king.
Zenda gave rise to a whole genre of stories known as "Ruritanian adventures," where people travel to fictitious European countries and experience tales of swashbuckling derring-do, of which there is a great deal in Zenda. The thing is, I wonder if other writers, like the American writer of the Graustark series of novels, took Ruritania far too literally. It was clear to me, as I was reading it, that Hope's Ruritania wasn't any different than Conan Doyle's Bohemia in "A Scandal in Bohemia"--a fictionalized stand-in for the real place and people involved, because if the writer told the truth--the real place, the real names--it would be, well, scandalous. Rudolf can't publish that he pretended to be, say, the king of Silesia for three months and he and the Queen of Silesia pledged their eternal love and devotion to one another. He has to fictionalize parts of the story. He has to change the names, if only to protect Flavia, the Queen and his true love. And the book reads that way; there's a certain unreality that falls across the Ruritania sections, and parts of the narrative feel a little sketchy, as though Rudolf is pulling his narrative punches.
I didn't pull Silesia out of a hat. It best fits what we're told about Ruritania. It's mostly German and Catholic, but there are also Polish names (for example, the military Marshal), and Silesia in the nineteenth-century was predominantly German with a large Polish population.
Hope wrote a sequel and a prequel, and based on the plot summary I've read of the sequel (Rupert of Hentzau) I'm not sure I want to read it. Zenda ends on a positive, even hopeful note, and Rupert burns everything to the ground.
The second son of a minor English noble family goes on a European tour and visits the eastern European country that's connected to his family by a scandal a century earlier, and he quickly discovers that he's the identical distant cousin of the soon to be crowned Ruritanian king. Many hijinks ensue when the king's not-quite-bastard brother (born of a morganatic marriage) kidnaps the king in a plot to claim the crown for himself, and the identical English cousin has to step in as the king, woo the princess, defeat the not-quite-bastard, and save the real king.
Zenda gave rise to a whole genre of stories known as "Ruritanian adventures," where people travel to fictitious European countries and experience tales of swashbuckling derring-do, of which there is a great deal in Zenda. The thing is, I wonder if other writers, like the American writer of the Graustark series of novels, took Ruritania far too literally. It was clear to me, as I was reading it, that Hope's Ruritania wasn't any different than Conan Doyle's Bohemia in "A Scandal in Bohemia"--a fictionalized stand-in for the real place and people involved, because if the writer told the truth--the real place, the real names--it would be, well, scandalous. Rudolf can't publish that he pretended to be, say, the king of Silesia for three months and he and the Queen of Silesia pledged their eternal love and devotion to one another. He has to fictionalize parts of the story. He has to change the names, if only to protect Flavia, the Queen and his true love. And the book reads that way; there's a certain unreality that falls across the Ruritania sections, and parts of the narrative feel a little sketchy, as though Rudolf is pulling his narrative punches.
I didn't pull Silesia out of a hat. It best fits what we're told about Ruritania. It's mostly German and Catholic, but there are also Polish names (for example, the military Marshal), and Silesia in the nineteenth-century was predominantly German with a large Polish population.
Hope wrote a sequel and a prequel, and based on the plot summary I've read of the sequel (Rupert of Hentzau) I'm not sure I want to read it. Zenda ends on a positive, even hopeful note, and Rupert burns everything to the ground.
I had to look that up. The idea that the legitimate child of a royal/noble and a commoner is nonetheless saddled with the status of the commoner instead of the royal/noble is unfamiliar to me -- although Shakespeare had something even more drastically classist in The Winter's Tale, where King Polixenes wouldn't allow his son to marry Perdita when he thought she was a shepherd's daughter, and even condemned the shepherd to hang for treason for letting his daughter lead the prince on (although he was appeased when Perdita turned out to be a long-lost princess abandoned in infancy, hence her name).
On the other hand, the Wikipedia article says that Britain didn't have the concept of morganatic marriage, and even cites the example I saw just recently in Henry VI/Richard III, where Edward IV married a member of the landed gentry, Elizabeth Grey, and elevated her to be his queen. His brother Richard did spread the rumor that Edward and Elizabeth's sons were bastards, but based it on the false claim that Edward was already married to Lady Bona when he married Elizabeth (when he was only courting her or at most engaged), rather than because of Elizabeth's social class.
Though maybe I shouldn't be mentioning Shakespeare plays in this thread, since I'm not reading them, I'm watching the complete BBC series of them from the '70s-'80s on BritBox. I always wanted to do a complete Shakespeare run-through once in my life, and I realized it was better to see them peformed than just to read them. (I've been reviewing them on my blog.)
On the other hand, if listening to an audiobook counts as reading, one could argue that a TV production is an audiobook with pictures and counts as well. And I do watch with the subtitles on.
Oh, so it's one of those novels told in the first person pretending to be a true account. Not surprising given its vintage. I didn't know that about "A Scandal in Bohemia," though. Bohemia is a real place, but looking it up, I see that at the time the story was published, it had been absorbed into Austria-Hungary and didn't have a separate king like in the story.
Any idea what the real country in "Scandal" was supposed to be?
A popular theory among Sherlockians is that the "King of Bohemia" is a member of the British royal family. Possibly even the Prince of Wales. Hence, Watson's need for discretion.
I've never read The Prisoner of Zenda myself (maybe I should), but I'm very familiar with what Get Smart did with the premise. And with the way Asimov, whenever he wanted to tell an ethnic joke that was particularly insulting to a whole nationality, he would always use Ruritania as his butt-monkey.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm about 2/3 of the way through the second SNW anthology, having just finished Steven Scott Ripley's "Change of Heart," an opus told entirely from the POV of a Founder. Amazing how a being can be so totally driven by malice and contempt.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm about 2/3 of the way through the second SNW anthology, having just finished Steven Scott Ripley's "Change of Heart," an opus told entirely from the POV of a Founder. Amazing how a being can be so totally driven by malice and contempt.
I wouldn't say it's exactly true that Britain didn't and doesn't have the concept of morganatic marriages. They just didn't call it that.
An episode of the Jenna Coleman series Victoria revolves around the political problem of her uncle, the Duke of Sussex, marrying in contravention of the Royal Marriages Act. The marriage wasn't considered legal, he refused to attend court without his wife but she had no status there, and Victoria solves the "problem" by making the wife a Duchess in her own right. The principle behind the Royal Marriages Act is the same -- requiring permission to marry in order to prevent royalty from marrying outside their social class. It's still in force; Prince Harry had to ask Queen Elizabeth II for permission to marry Meghan Markle.
The Romanovs, deposed in 1917, still adhere to morganatic marriage, even though they have no empire to rule. This has resulted in multiple claimants because some branches of the Romanov family don't view the marriages in other branches as properly conforming to the marriage laws.
A BBC Radio production from the 70s might interest you -- Vivat Rex. It takes Shakespeare's history plays, plus history plays from other authors, and harmonizes them into a single coherent narrative that spans 400 years.
I wouldn't run out and read it. I was reading it for research purposes. It's dated, the writing can get a bit florrid, the manner of the telling of the story left many important characters a bit sketchy (heck, one young woman doesn't even rate so much as a name!) and their motivations on the cryptic side. One wildly amusing element was how often characters in the novel, including the villain's henchman, would point out the conceptual issue at the heart of the story:
It would be better for everyone if Rudolf, the identical English cousin pretending to be the king, just lets the villain kill the real king, because Rudolf would get what he really wants (the Princess) and Ruritania would get what it really needs (a good and decisive king who would take care of the villain anyway).
The Kevin Kline/Sigourney Weaver film Dave does the story better.
I wouldn't say it's exactly true that Britain didn't and doesn't have the concept of morganatic marriages. They just didn't call it that.
An episode of the Jenna Coleman series Victoria revolves around the political problem of her uncle, the Duke of Sussex, marrying in contravention of the Royal Marriages Act. The marriage wasn't considered legal, he refused to attend court without his wife but she had no status there, and Victoria solves the "problem" by making the wife a Duchess in her own right. The principle behind the Royal Marriages Act is the same -- requiring permission to marry in order to prevent royalty from marrying outside their social class. It's still in force; Prince Harry had to ask Queen Elizabeth II for permission to marry Meghan Markle.
Yeah, but that's what I'm saying. It's the same thing that happened with Edward IV and Elizabeth -- it was considered inappropriate to marry a commoner, but he promoted her to nobility and her children were considered legitimate heirs to the throne (which is why Richard III assassinated the Princes in the Tower in the play, though their true fate remains unknown). It sounds like morganatic marriage means the child of a royal and a commoner can't inherit the throne under any circumstances.
Yeah, I'm a little disappointed that the BBC Television Shakespeare couldn't pull off their original plan of doing the history cycle as a single 8-part miniseries. They did Richard II in season 1, then Henry IV/V in season 2 with only Henry IV's actor returning and the other roles recast (and with a "Previously on" recap of Richard II's death), but it wasn't until season 5 (the review of which I'll post shortly) that they did Henry VI 1-3 and Richard III as a 4-week miniseries with a shared ensemble. (Right after The Merry Wives of Windsor, which also recast Falstaff.)
It also would've been nice if they'd done Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra as a 2-parter with a shared cast, but they didn't.
I would not bother with Rupert of Hentzau. If it weren't a sequel, it would be as forgotten as Hope's other books.
The only other Hope that I would recommend is "The Dolly Dialogues" which might be suitable for people who liked Diary of a Nobody (Grossmith and Grossmith) or "The Eliza Stories" (Pain)
I just now ordered an Oxford University Press paperback of . . . Zenda from Alibris.
I went to Project Gutenberg and read the first and last chapters of Rupert. That last chapter, even without reading what leads to it, is depressing as hell. I think I'd rather stay with the happy, hopeful ending of Zenda and pretend Rupert doesn't exist.
I went to Project Gutenberg and read the first and last chapters of Rupert. That last chapter, even without reading what leads to it, is depressing as hell. I think I'd rather stay with the happy, hopeful ending of Zenda and pretend Rupert doesn't exist.
When CLB and I are in complete agreement on some matter, I customarily invoke that quote from the remake of The Fly, and say "Be afraid. Be very afraid."
I only have hearsay (and the Wikipedia article) to go on, myself, but I'm in complete agreement with AG on Rupert.
So don't be afraid. Be
TERRIFIED!
In the middle of DW's second SNW short story, "Almost . . . But Not Quite."
I will note that LD: Mugato, Gumato gives DW's line about Picard "taking the proverbial mugato by the horn" (SNW II, page 259, last full paragraph) a whole new meaning.
BTW: Anybody remember who gave Dulmur his definitive spelling, and when, and in what opus? (Oh, and I've written a fanfic that has multiple versions [from different timelines] of Dulmur, Lucsly, and Roberta Lincoln, stepping in to prevent "Requiem for a Martian" from being produced.)
I will note that LD: Mugato, Gumato gives DW's line about Picard "taking the proverbial mugato by the horn" (SNW II, page 259, last full paragraph) a whole new meaning.
BTW: Anybody remember who gave Dulmur his definitive spelling, and when, and in what opus? (Oh, and I've written a fanfic that has multiple versions [from different timelines] of Dulmur, Lucsly, and Roberta Lincoln, stepping in to prevent "Requiem for a Martian" from being produced.)
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