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Monthly Archives: April 2007

Here are some snippets that I found particularly amusing, from various theatre reviews that Hazlitt wrote during the Regency…

Examiner, May 5, 1816

Why they put Mr. Kemble into the part of Sir Giles Overreach, at Covent Garden Theatre, we cannot conceive: we should suppose he would not put himself there. Malvolio, though cross-gartered, did not set himself in the stocks.

No doubt, it is the managers’ doing, who by rope-dancing, fire-works, play-bill puffs, and by every kind of quackery, seem determined to fill their pockets for the present, and disgust the public in the end, if the public were an animal capable of being disgusted by quackery.

(The gentleman pictured above is John Philip Kemble, the powerful actor/manager. His whole family acted, included his sister, Mrs. Siddons, and his brothers, Charles and Stephen Kemble.)

Examiner, October 13, 1816

The town has been entertained this week by seeing Mr. Stephen Kemble in the part of Sir John Falstaff, as they were formerly with seeing Mr. Lambert in his own person.

We see no more reason why Mr. Stephen Kemble should play Falstaff, than why Louis XVIII is qualified to fill a throne, because he is fat and belongs to a particular family. Every fat man cannot represent a great man.

(The gentleman pictured here is Stephen Kemble, and he was indeed the least admired of the Kembles!)

Champion, January 8, 1815

In going to see Mr. Kean in any new character, we do not go in the expectation of seeing either a perfect actor or perfect acting; because this is what we have not yet seen, either in him or in anyone else. But we go to see (what he never disappoints us in) great spirit, ingenuity, and originality given to the text in general, and an energy and depth of passion given to certain scenes and passages, which we should in vain look for from any other actor on the stage…

His Romeo had nothing of the lover in it. We never saw anything less ardent or less voluptuous. In the balcony scene in particular, he was cold, tame and unimpressive… He stood like a statue of lead.

(The third picture, of course, is of Edmund Kean!)

Of the reviews Hazlitt did of Kean, this was the least flattering one that I’ve come across. He did seem to admire him very much, and be rather more impatient with the Kembles!

So — if you were magically transported back to the Regency, and could see anything (or anyone) at the theatre that you wished, what (or who) would it be? Or would you spend more time looking at the theatre or the audience?

Cara
Cara King, author of MY LADY GAMESTER — which contains several scenes at Covent Garden Theatre, complete with elephant

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Today the Riskies welcome Sally MacKenzie, author of Kensington’s popular “Naked” Regency series. Sally’s The Naked Earl is in bookstores this month. Sally’s books have been praised as having a combination of humor, sensuality, and a hint of suspense. Here is what John Charles of Booklist said of The Naked Earl: “The latest in MacKenzie’s delectably sensual “Naked” historical Regencies series has plenty of sexy sizzle and charming wit.”–John Charles, Booklist

Sally is giving away a copy of The Naked Earl to one of our lucky readers who will be chosen at random Tuesday, April 10 at midnight and announced on the blog. Bertie the Beau has exerted himself to compose official Risky Regency contest rules. Please review them carefully or we will have to endure another Bertie snit!

Here’s Sally!

1. Tell us about your latest book, The Naked Earl.
The Naked Earl is the third book in my Naked series, following The Naked Duke (Feb. ’05) and The Naked Marquis (March ’06). The characters continue and develop, but the books are all stand alone. This book opens with the earl fleeing naked across a portico roof to escape a marriage trap. He climbs through a handy window and into Lady Elizabeth’s bedchamber. Lady Elizabeth, as naked as he, screams–and then decides she’s had enough of being proper. She will be bold and daring just this once–of course, her courage is aided by her earlier overindulgence in ratafia. Various house party intrigues ensue as the earl and Lady Elizabeth–and other guests, as well–make their ways to happily ever after.

2. What, if anything, was “risky” about The Naked Earl?
I feel as if I’m always doing something risky with these books–if nothing else, humor is risky–but probably the most notably risky bit in the Earl is the fact that the hero has what we would call performance anxiety, or, as he puts it, “[h]is shy little organ would not perform in the presence of company.”

3. Tell us about the review of The Naked Earl in Publishers Weekly.
Ooo, how did you know I wanted to talk about that??
The review was definitely a surprise. My agent called on Groundhog Day and asked if I was sitting down. Since we were in contract negotiations at the time, I was rather hoping she was going to tell me the publisher had offered me a six figure deal. Well, a girl can dream, right? But the review was wonderful. I love almost every word. (They did get just a teeny tiny bit wrong.) Here’s the first sentence: “MacKenzie continues her spicy Naked series (following last year’s Naked Marquis) with another ribald Regency, this time centering on a country house party full of the punch-drunk loveless.” It goes on from there and concludes: “Providing plenty of heat and hilarity, MacKenzie has great fun shepherding this boisterous party toward its happy ending; readers will be glad they RSVPed.” Excuse me while I go gaze in rapture at it one more time….
Oh, and while I’m bragging, I’ll tell you that RT gave Lord Westbrooke a KISS. Here’s a quote from their four star review: “MacKenzie continues her delightfully humorous, sexy series with a nice and naughty naked hero who matches wits and wiles with an equally irresistible heroine in the author’s typically touching style.”

4. All these naked guys in your titles–what a great marketing hook. Did you plan it that way or just how did that come about?
Well, it began as dumb luck, I suppose. One of my friends, a former editor who was critiquing an early draft of my first book, told me my original title was horrible. I had to come up with something better, so I thought, hmm…a title is a marketing tool, so what sells? Sex and power, right? Power = duke; sex = naked, so–The Naked Duke! It fit, since the duke does appear naked in the first chapter. That’s how he’s, um, “dressed” when he meets the heroine, who also happens to be naked.
The Naked Duke provoked a lot of buzz, so when it was time to come up with a title for my second book, sticking with Naked seemed like a good idea. I had two other men, friends of the Duke, to write about. However, I also had a problem–too many earls! Robert Hamilton, the Earl of Westbrooke, played a role in the Duke and had to keep his title. The Earl of Knightsdale, Captain Charles Draysmith’s brother, was only mentioned in passing, so I “promoted” him to a marquis during copy edits for the Duke. Captain Draysmith inherits the title just in time to be The Naked Marquis.

5. You were one of Kensington’s “Debs.” Tell us about that.
In June 2004, Kensington started publishing one book a month by a new author. The books were offered at only $3.99 to encourage readers to take a…risk…on a new writer. (See, I was risky from the beginning!) The stories run the gamut from strict historicals in varying time periods to paranormal historicals to contemporary romantic comedy. An added benefit from my perspective was that the early “Debs” found each other online and bonded. We, and a few other Kensington writers who got their start at the same time, helped each other take our first steps through the publishing maze. We are still friends. You can find us at www.romanceunleashed.com.

6. Why do you write in the Regency era?
I discovered Georgette Heyer at my local library when I was still in grade school and fell in love with her books. I loved the story conventions and the plots, the Regency wit and language. (I even sometimes talk in “Regency-isms.” When I used “brangle” in a conversation, my husband gave me a blank look–that’s how I realized the word is archaic.) And I’m sure it is very un-American of me to say so, but I think there is something very sexy about the aristocracy and landed nobility. I used to wish that I lived during the Regency. Of course, being mostly Irish, I’d probably have been a scullery maid. And really, who wants to live without antibiotics, anesthesia, and modern flush toilets?!!

7. Did you come across anything new or interesting when you were researching The Naked Earl?
I found some interesting objects when I was trying to furnish my dungeon, learned how cue sticks developed in billiards, and stuck my toe into the landscape gardening debate, somewhat of a hot topic in the Regency.

8. Are there more naked guys to come? What’s next for you?
I’ve already handed in The Naked Gentleman, scheduled for May 2008, and I’ve just accepted a contract to write three more books, so I think I’ll be hanging out with Naked guys for a few more years!

Thank you so much for visiting with us, Sally! The Riskies wish The Naked Earl every success and we can hardly wait for the next Naked guy.

Sally will attempt to stop by, so all comments and questions for her are welcome (and will enter you in the contest).

Welcome to the Risky Regencies Contest Rules! Prepare to be delighted by me, Bertram St. James, Exquisite, as I explain the rules to you with the wit and humour for which I am universally beloved!

1. Each entrant may enter under only one screen name. Anyone breaking this rule will be disqualified (and also never invited to Almack’s — after all, no one likes a cheater.) If you think you can pull the wool (or silk) over our eyes, do think again! The combination of my perspicacity, the Riskies’ native intelligence, and the doggedness of my pet hedgehog (not to mention the hedgehoggedness of my pet dog) will detect all light-fingered, computer-using Captain Sharps.

2. To enter a contest, simply leave a comment on the correct post. And please, make it a thoughtful comment! It need not be clever or funny (though either would be much appreciated) but you do need to say something. (For example, if the question were “What do you admire most about Bertie?” acceptable answers would include “He is the most elegant gentleman who ever existed!” and “His hair is a miracle of both nature and art!”)

The only exception to this: we may, from time to time, have contests in which we give the prize to the comment we judge the most worthy (e.g. the most amusing, the most thoughtful, &c.) When we do this, we will clearly state this in the post.

3. Isn’t my neckcloth too beautiful for words?

4. Risky Regencies bloggers and their families (including hedgehogs) are not eligible for prizes, although of course they are allowed to comment and chatter as much as they want. (They will anyway.)

5. We reserve the right to limit any contest to a specific geographic area (i.e. we may say “this contest is restricted to residents of these-or-those countries”) due to difficulties or costs of shipping certain prizes.

6. All prize winners will be announced in a later post — so do check back to see if you have won!

Enjoy!

Exquisitely Yours,

Bertie the Beau

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I just got the cover for my next book (out in August from Harlequin Historicals! Pre-order now!), and am so excited I had to share. Her gown looks a little more “Restoration” than “1520s Venice” to me, and the hero in my book actually has long hair, but what the heck. I love the colors, the gondola, and the fact that my name is really BIG. That’s the important thing. 🙂

I was first inspired to write this story a couple of years ago, when I went to an exhibit at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe called “Carnival!”. Each section was devoted to a different city–New Orleans, Rio, etc. The Rio room was great fun, bright and noisy with samba filling the air (videos and music were used as well as artifacts and costumes), while the Venice room was elegant and mysterious. There were elaborate costumes and masks, beautiful paintings, even a gondola. The perfect spot, I thought, for an elegant and mysterious heroine to hide out, circa 1525! (Venice, that is, not the museum, though it’s great, too)

The carnival (or Carnevale di Venezia, loosely translated from the Latin for “Farewell, meat!”) was first recorded in 1268, and immediately gained a reputation for a subversive and naughty festival, running from a few weeks before Ash Wednesday and ending Shrove (or Fat) Tuesday. On Ash Wednesday, the party was over. Over the centuries, various laws were passed to try and curb the celebrations, including banning the wearing of masks, but that didn’t last too long (thankfully for my characters, who go about in disguise half the time!). People were allowed to wear masks all the time between the festival of San Stefano (St. Stephen’s Day, December 26) and midnight on Shrove Tuesday.

Venetian masks are usually made with leather or papier-mache, with traditional shapes including the bauta (a mask that covers only the upper part of the face) and the moretta, a black velvet ladies’ mask originating in France. The most common is the white volto, worn with a black tricorn and cloak (very stark and mysterious!).

The 18th century was the height of Carnival hedonism. In 1797, Venice became part of the Austrian Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia, when Napoleon signed the treaty of Campo Formio. It went into a long decline, before being banned by the Fascist government in the 1930s. In the 1980s, it saw a revival which grows to this day.

Some Carnival links:
Official City of Venice Carnival Site
Casanova Venetian Masks
Carta Alta

I would love to have a Carnival party and invite everyone here at RR! If my house wasn’t so tiny, and I had a canal in the back yard for floating gondolas. Another chance to play dress-up! What would YOUR costume be?


Last Saturday, I was lucky enough to have dinner with authors Myretta Robens, her critique partner Sandy Tabor, Loretta Chase, and Evelyn Richardson.

In the course of dinner, wherein we discussed authentic 19th century pigs, colonial Williamsburg, Venice, marriage contracts, and how much we love mashed potatoes, we talked about writing.

Writing, we decided, is the one thing we do that doesn’t have instant gratification. If the kitchen floor needs mopping, you pull out the Swiffer and have a go at it. Fifteen minutes later, you’ve got a clean floor. Other people can see you’ve got a clean floor. You’re certain you’ve accomplished something.

With writing, all the gratification is delayed–writing your 1,000 words, five pages, one chapter, etc., doesn’t reward you the same way sparkling linoleum does.

That conversation made me realize that my ability to procrastinate is just my desire for instant gratification. If I clear off the dining room table instead of write, I’ve done something I can point to and say ‘it’s done!’ The most insidious form of this instant gratification thing is posting to a blog–it’s writing, so it’s satisfying that way, but it’s also done, and you can see it’s done, and others can see it’s done. It can become a substitute for real writing, the kind that we’re theoretically doing when we log off Blogger.

So, since my brain is not always so smart, I am going to figure out a way to satisfy the instant gratification thing AND get some longer fiction writing done. How? By setting daily goals, by making writing my 1,000 words, five pages, one chapter, something my brain believes is a tangible, instant result. Silly brain.

And in a few months, I will have an entire book to show for it. Now that’s gratifying.

What tricks do you use to fool your brain? Do you offer rewards for completed tasks, like getting to read a new book?

Megan

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