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Monthly Archives: February 2006

What everyone thinks is true… Part III

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Taking a break from the pleasure of viewing athletic male bodies in tight bodysuits (isn’t men’s speed skating grand?) to do the final bit of myth-busting on the history of pregnancy and childbirth.

#4: Husbands were always excluded from the birthing chamber.

Well, yes and no. Much as my husband bemoaned the loss of the “good old days” and offered to take up smoking and pacing rather than attend me through my two labors, having the husband in the delivery room isn’t really a modern invention.

It’s true that the centuries-old childbirth traditions usually excluded males. There was a female bonding ritual associated with childbirth: closing up windows and doors, lighting candles, the drinking of caudle (a hot spiced wine or ale) by the laboring woman’s female friends and relatives. Usually the man was not welcome, but that was when births were attended by midwives.

When male practitioners were starting to get in on the act, it became inappropriate to exclude husbands. Believe it or not, some opponents of man-midwifery wrote, with great zeal, about the risks of the man-midwife becoming inflamed with passion by the sight of the laboring woman. I can just picture that, remembering what a femme fatale I must have looked during my two labors!

So husbands were not as a rule excluded from the birthing chamber. Old-fashioned female friends and relatives of the woman might complain or try to enforce the earlier ritual, but during the 18th century and into the 19th, the old rituals of childbirth were eroding, especially among the monied classes.

During Victorian times, when “chloroform-and-forceps” births became more common, the moral support provided by friends and family was increasingly replaced with medication. Doctors began to exclude any “unnecessary” persons from the birthing chamber, claiming they only distressed the patient anyway. By the time hospital births became more common (in the 1920’s and 30’s) everyone was excluded until the return to natural childbirth of our own time. And now there are some women who believe we should return to the old patterns of childbirth, with women helping women.

Anyway, during “our period” husbands sometimes did attend their wives. Prince Leopold was quite devoted to Princess Charlotte and attended during her 50-hour fatal ordeal. So on a happier note, it is perfectly acceptable for a proper Regency hero to attend the heroine during the birth of their child. It is equally possible that a scummy husband would go off hunting.

So who do you think about men in the delivery room? If you lived in the Regency, what might you prefer? Would you like a return to the old ritual? How would you feel about having your mother, mother-in-law, sisters, cousins, girlfriends and neighbors all there egging you on? Would it feel supportive or overwhelming? Who would you not want to have there?

And oh yes, I was modern enough to want my husband there. He does a wicked neck massage that really helped. Bucking other trends, though, I refused to do that “hee-hee-hoo-hoo” breathing. And promised my husband that anyone bringing a camera or any recording device near me before the baby and I were cleaned up would die a quick but painful death. 🙂

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee
www.elenagreene.com

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged , | 11 Replies

Tell Us What You Want!

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We at Risky Regencies are always delighted to know which posts you, our blog visitors, find most interesting here — or what you’d like to see here in the future. At the moment, the best we can do is judge based on the number of comments a post receives — so if a post gets a lot of comments, we assume that our visitors found it interesting…and if a post doesn’t, we may not make similar posts in the future.

However, we also know that there are some posts that our visitors may enjoy quite a bit, but that do not elicit comments! But we have a hard time telling the difference between posts you enjoy but don’t see the need to comment on, and posts that don’t really interest you.

So, for example, the fact that Bertie’s last two posts received only three comments each, none of which were from visitors to the blog, might indicate that people aren’t really interested in poor Bertie’s hapless posts. (Or it might not.)

Similarly, the fact that my two “what dirty bits did Kemble cut out of Shakespeare” posts also received no visitor comments might seem to indicate that our blog readers aren’t interested in Regency Shakespeare…. Then again, it might just be that our visitors felt the posts did not lend themselves to comments.

In other words, do you really want me to stop posting Bertie’s clueless questions? And the naughty bits from Shakespeare? Do you want more talk about Jane Austen movie hunks, or about Georgette Heyer novels, or about Horatio Hornblower? Do you want to hear more about the writing process, about how we create our novels, or how the publishing process works? Are you interested in hearing about what we’re working on now? Do you want to discuss your favorite romance heroes, or the romance cliches you hate the most, or what you require in a heroine? Do you want more Regency history info here? Do you want to discuss your favorite Regencies, and get recommendations that may lead to new favorites?

Do let us know!

Cara
Cara King, www.caraking.com
MY LADY GAMESTER — out now from Signet Regency!!!

Posted in Reading, Regency, Writing | 5 Replies

Reflection and Remembrance

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The Merchant Sisters circa 1903

I’ve been having some crazy days lately. I’ve been in this deep reflection stage, pondering the meaning of my life (here is a great opening for Monty Python fans) and imagining that I have made progress.

Reflection is a unique ability of man. I sometimes think it is somewhat of a lost art. Perhaps I am wrong? I’d like to think so…but with the advent of so many “sit there and be done to” mediums, it seems that solitude is less often experienced these days, and solitude is a necessary prerequisite.

I am sitting in front of a computer screen right now, even though at the moment I am talking to myself. But in seconds I could be anywhere in the electronic world, shopping, checking the weather in Burma, perusing my email, looking for a chat room (although I am not a chatter, I could look for a chat room). It is incredibly easy to do these things.

If I want to stand up and go to where I last left my remote control, supposing I can find it (if not, I will experience some unpredicted exercise) I can flick on the boob tube. There are even more boobs on it these days (of any sort you want to consider), and if soaps aren’t your cuppa there are all of those “reality” shows–most of which don’t seem the least bit real to me, but nonetheless. Of course, if one does not want these, or the news, there are movies–some exceptionally good–and “how-to” programs, a favorite of mine, because I can imagine doing something I don’t, can’t, or won’t.

The radio is fairly innocuous these days. I usually tune into my local public radio that serves up NPR and PRI and the like. They actually do foster some thought on my part, rather like reading a good book–but it didn’t used to be there. No, just a few short generations ago, one had to occupy oneself with engaging directly with another person, by viewing a live presentation, or by reading or writing or involving oneself with one’s hobby.

My grandmothers sewed, read, played cards, wrote letters or poetry, took walks or buggy rides. They took walks, took the train, or went boating with their sweethearts/husbands. They made picnic lunches and made them exquisitely–they packed lemonade, cake and homemade pickles, homemade bread and jam, sliced meats, chicken legs, cloth napkins and a wool blanket or a woven tablecloth to lay out, and all was placed in a willow basket. In the evening they played the piano, sung, and read their favorite ladies’ magazine.

I get nostalgic thinking of this world I only lived in, peripherally, as a child. I of course did not experience the horses–tractors and cars and trucks had arrived by the time I arrived in the world–but I listened to the stories and saw the photographs. And when I grew older and was more interested in listening to my transistor radio off in a corner by myself, these experiences were still part of me. They are to this day, as I remember them.

I’d like to thank my grandparents and other grand-relatives for this gift of the past, and I do wish I could somehow bring it back, at least in a small way. And that, I think, is why I write–and why my mother wrote, and why my grandmother wrote.

It is a gift of reflection, and a gift of bringing back to life things we love.

All the best in your life,
Laurie

Posted in Writing | 7 Replies

Snow Days!

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My post today sort of goes along with Laurie’s. We had our own “snow days” here over the weekend–everything I was scheduled to do (RWA chapter meeting, friend’s dinner party, etc) was cancelled, my car was stuck in the garage (unless I wanted to dig it out, which I DIDN’T!), and I had two whole days of peace and quiet all for me. I could have done something useful, like mop the floor or finish reading my packet of RITA books, but of course I didn’t! I watched far more Food Network than is good for me (I’m pretty sure that Giadda woman does not eat the pasta she cooks, or she wouldn’t be so abominably skinny!), ate Choxie Hot Chocolate bars (another reason I will never be Giadda), and listened to some new CDs I had bought. It was wonderful.

I also settled in with my cats (like Laurie’s, they think a snow day means a “crowd onto the chair with Mom like two big lumps” day) and took on Cara’s “Read a Regency” challenge. I picked up Evelyn Richardson’s A LADY OF TALENT from my TBR pile. It was very enjoyable, a tale of an earl, his shallow (but funny!) Almack’s-loving fiancee, a female artist, and her dandy of a brother. I’m a sucker for art in books, and this heroine’s career details (she was a student of Angelica Kauffmann, paints portraits of Society ladies but really wants to do historical scenes, etc) were fascinating. She also fit neatly into the “bluestocking” profile of Megan’s quiz, always a plus for me. 🙂 Of course, not all runs smoothly, and the silly fiancee has to be got rid of somehow, but you’ll just have to read for yourself to see how!

It was a great weekend. If YOU had two whole snow days, how would you spend them?

Posted in Reading | 8 Replies

Everything* I Know I Learned From Romance Novels

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Some non-genre readers scoff at us fanat–that is, engaged readers of genre fiction. Romance, for example, they deride as being fluff, female porn, and the ever-loathed term “bodice ripper.”
But I have learned a lot–A LOT– from romance novels. For example:

One Saturday, the spouse and I were listening to NPR, and they had one of their quiz shows (no, I don’t remember the title. If I did, I would have said!). They were playing Dictionary, where someone finds an obscure word and the contestants have to make up definitions, and the real definition is included, and the other side has to vote on which definition is the right one.
The word was “delope.” I knew, of course, that it meant to shoot your pistol into the air during a duel because I . . . drumroll please . . . read historical romances.

I was up on the whole War of the Roses controversy because I devoured Anya Seton‘s Katherine. I also knew the prose Wat Tyler chanted during the 1381 Peasants’ Revolt because of the same book (“When Adam delved and Eva span/Who was then the gentleman?).

I’ve always used the phrase “mutton dressed as lamb” to indicate an older woman wearing garments better suited for a younger one, and now my Swank Husband (and his NY-editorial friends) all use the term too. I routinely ask my husband “Do I look muttony?” before going out.

“Hard-pressed” refers to the forced conscription of men into the navy during wartime.

I know all of Henry VIII’s wives in order: Katherine, Anne, Jane, Anne, Catherine, Katherine (that is from memory, I think I got all the ‘Katherine’s done properly) because of reading historical romance.

).While watching Master And Commander: The Far Side of the World, I leaned over and told my husband Admiral Lord Nelson had lost an arm, too, so Capt. Aubrey’s next revelation to the young injured cabin-boy made me look extra-cool (or geeky. You decide

I know all about how important it was to be seated above the salt at a banquet table. I am a big fan of salt, btw.

I know there’s more, but I think I’ve blathered enough–what facts have you learned from reading romance?

Megan
www.meganframpton.com
*Well, not everything, but a lot of things.

Posted in Reading | Tagged , | 7 Replies