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Author Archives: Sandra Schwab

A picture of Sandra Schwab's desk with a volume of PUNCH
My creative work has currently been interrupted – most pleasantly so, I might add! – by my academic work: I have been invited to contribute an essay about a background topic (“Themes of Medievalism in Punch“) to Cengage’s new digital Punch Historical Archive. For this I have also been given access to the archive itself, and it’s – oh my gosh! – fantastic! Not only can you do full text searches across all volumes of Punch from 1841 to 1992, but to make this even better, the large cuts (= the big political cartoons) and the social cuts (=smaller cartoons) have also been indexed. *swoons*

But it gets even better: one of my friends from Liverpool John Moores University, Clare Horrocks, is transcribing the contributors’ ledgers of Punch, and her findings will be incorporated into the archive. This is really important work because for much of the nineteenth century, writing for periodicals was done either anonymously or pseudonymously. So, as was pointed out in an article in a recent issue of American Libraries, Clare’s work helps us to solve questions of authorship and attribution:

Early findings from the project have revealed articles written by William Makepeace Thackeray and P. G. Wodehouse that were previously unattributed. And while Charles Dickens himself never wrote for the magazine, his son Charles Dickens Jr. is known to have contributed a number of articles, which this project expects to uncover.

Yet as awesome as the digital archive is, in certain points it cannot replace leafing through the actual volumes: smaller illustrations like initial letters have not been indexed (and I would imagine that this would actually be a rather impossible task given the vast numbers of itty-bitty illustrations in Punch). Moreover, leafing through volumes and looking at images can reveal certain themes that you would not notice otherwise.

I found this out when I checked initial letters in different volumes from the 1850s, 60s, and 70s (in search for medieval themes, of course!) (or rather, I wanted to pinpoint when medieval themes vanished from the initial letters). And while I was leafing through the 1873 volume, looking for itty-bitty knights, I suddenly noticed an abundance of pet dogs in the social cuts.

Now, it’s not as if dogs hadn’t appeared before 1873: Mr. Punch himself, after all, is accompanied by his dog Toby; in the 1840s Richard Doyle fell into the habit of adding little Toby-ish doggies to many of his drawings; and in social cuts dealing with country sports you can often find hunting dogs. But the many, many pet dogs of 1873 is not something that you see in the 1840s. Clearly, some of the artists who worked for Punch in the 1870s must have been dog lovers.

Like George du Maurier:

a cartoon from PUNCH by George du Maurier a cartoon from PUNCH by George du Maurier(Or perhaps, he just wanted to poke fun at bourgeois ladies and their pet dogs.)

And then, there is GB, whose dogs are truly delightful:

a cartoon from PUNCH by Georgina Bowers a cartoon from PUNCH by Georgina Bowers
And do you know what else is truly delightful about GB? GB is a woman!!! The initials stand for Georgina Bowers. In his History of Punch (1895) Spielmann calls her “[b]y far the most important lady artist who ever worked for Punch […],” and continues,

Miss Bowers was a humorist, with very clear and happy notions as to what fun should be, and how it should be transferred to a picture. Her long career began in 1866, and thenceforward, working with undiminished energy, she executed hundreds of initials and vignettes as well as “socials,” devoting herself in chief part to hunting and flirting subjects.

Of course, being a woman, she had to be shown the proper way of doing illustrations for the magazine *snort*: “It was John Leech [Punch‘s chief artist] who set her on the track; Mark Lemon [Punch‘s first editor], to whom she took her drawings, encouraged her, and with help from Mr. Swain [the engraver] she progressed.” (Oh, Mr. Spielmann! *shakes head sadly*)

Georgina worked for the magazine for ten years until differences with a new editor made her resign. But she seems to have continued to work as an illustrator for many more years.

Isn’t that a lovely find?

iceskating-for-beginners-1850
Ooops – I nearly forgot that it’s my turn to post today. (My excuse: I was teaching today, and when I came home I fell asleep on the couch.)

After I finished my essay for the Punch Digital Archive that I mentioned in my last post, I turned to a fun project I had thinking about for quite some time: to put together a historical archive for my own Victorian magazine, Allan’s Miscellany, complete with selected articles. Fictional reporters reporting about (mostly) real news? Yeah, that’s my kind of historical-geek-catnip. 🙂

Earlier this week, the Allan’s Miscellany digital archive finally went online, complete with very serious scholarly commentary –

Though articles were published anonymously or pseudonymously, as was the wont in the Victorian Age, the early issues of Allan’s clearly display the  influence of its charismatic editor, William MacNeil.”

– and a selection of articles from October 1839, December 1842, and April 1847. Real news!

“Visitors to Madame TUSSAUD’S elegant exhibition of waxworks will find that the collection has recently been extended to include figures of Calvin, Knox, and Luther as well as Her Majesty, in her Robes of State.”

Snarky reviews of (mostly) real books!

“The second part of Lady CHARLOTTE GUEST’s translation of the “Mabinogion” from the Welsh has just been released. While the “Literary Gazette” was thrown into raptures over the volume, we cannot help but wonder whether such old-fashioned romances as are included in the “Mabinogion” will not induce even more chivalric delusions in readers who easily fall victim to such humbug. We therefore cannot recommend Lady CHARLOTTE’s translation to young men of the gentry and the aristocracy.”

This was, of course, the perfect excuse to rummage around several Victorian magazines in search for contemporary amusements, theatrical productions, book releases, and political news. And I found the most amaaaaaaaaazing stuff!!! (she squeals.)

Like the Christmas pantomime that the guys from Punch (yes, my Punch!!!!) wrote for the Christmas season of 1842: “PUNCH’S PANTOMIME; or, Harlequin, King John, and Magna Charta,” performed at Covent Garden.

Even better than that: for the same year I also stumbled across a mention of the Glaciarium – London’s very first ice-skating rink with artificial (!!!) ice. It was installed in the Baker Street Bazaar at Portman Square, and the rink itself was surrounded by an Alpine panorama, which seems to have been partly painted and partly a scenery with rocks, little cottages and benches for visitors to explore. (The image above, however, is from Punch.) The Glaciarium was only open for two years, from 1842 to 1844. When it closed at the Baker Street Bazaar, it was apparently removed to another location, though I wasn’t able to find anything on that.

Still – an ice-skating rink with artificial ice in 1842? That find pleased my inner historical geek to no end! 🙂

What about you? What kind of news would you be looking for when rummaging through old magazines? Book reviews? News about the Queen? The latest fashion trends?

the new cover for The Lily Brand by Sandra Schwab
I had hoped to do a re-release party today for The Lily Brand, but alas, I’m still proofreading the dratted book. (Grrrrr!) So let me tell you about the gardens instead.

When I was writing The Lily Brand, I was apparently utterly fascinated with the history of garden planning and garden architecture — or perhaps I was simply inspired by a book on the history of European gardens, which I had received as a Christmas present from one of my great-aunts back in 1997. Leafing through this book now, I certainly recognize several of the photographs as part of the setting of The Lily Brand.

cover picture of Zauber der Gartenwelt
Take the gorgeous statue of Pan on the front cover, for example: in my novel he resides in the overgrown, neglected garden that belongs to the French château of my heroine’s evil (uber-evil!) stepmother. We encounter Pan in the second chapter, when Lillian is wandering around the garden, dragging the bound and gagged hero behind her (poor man — I was in a bit of a bad mood when I wrote that novel…)

Lillian did not hesitate to pick her way through the overgrown garden. She walked carefully, of course, mindful of the thorny branches which lay waiting to trap the folds of her coat and dress.

At this time of the year, the leaves had already started to fall and reveal the branches gray and bare. In many ways, the garden was as ghostly as the mansion itself. But, oh, how many times she had wished that the plants would reach out and envelop the house, bury it under a green blanket!

La belle au bois dormant.

Lillian’s lips turned up in a humorless smile. There would be no prince coming to release her from the evil spell.

In her dreams, the plants would grow and cover the walls of the mansion, would press against the glass of the windows, would seek out the tiniest cracks in the walls. And, once inside, they would grow and grow and twine themselves around Camille. Around and around until there would be no trace left—

Lillian gave herself a mental shake and looked over her shoulder at the man trudging behind her. His chest rose and fell with laborious breaths. What could she say to ease his troubles? For him, there would be no deliverance. And so, she remained silent.

To their left, a lichen-covered Pan peeked out of the bushes, lounging on a bit of rock, flute raised to his lips as if he were about to compete with the absent birds. Just visible under the dark green tendrils was one of the broad, powerful shoulders, a hint of muscles bouncing in his arm. His very presence seemed to mock the man in shackles, for the faun had achieved what the prisoner had not: escape from Camille’s web.


In other news, The Bride Prize, the first novella in my Victorian series is now free on Apple, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon (at least it’s free for Amazon customers from the US). So if you’d like to join the reporters of Allan’s Miscellany on their first adventure and accompany them to Scotland to watch a tournament, grab a copy (and bring an umbrella!!!). 🙂

Or if you’d just like to watch me squee (and make other funny noises) over books, you can do that, too. For this is what happened earlier this evening:

 

"Tea Party," a picture by Sandra Schwab
The end of the old year must have addled my brains, for I completely forgot to write a post last Wednesday – sorry about that!!!

I hope you all had a good start into 2015! I for one, started the year doing research on food.

I love good food (cheesecake!!!), so perhaps it’s no surprise that dinners, luncheons, & teas feature frequently in my books. Researching 19th-century food is such a joy: not only are there oodles of books available on the subject (like Kristen Olsen’s Cooking with Jane Austen), but you can also easily access primary material – in other words, cookbooks! One of my favorite cookbooks from the Georian era is Frederick Nutt’s The Complete Confectioner; or, The Whole Art of Confectionary Made Easy: Also Receipts for Home-Made Wines, Cordials, French and Italian Liqueurs, &c. It was originally published in the late 18th century, and new editions appeared throughout the Regency era. The 1819 edition is available online from Google Books.

Nutt’s Complete Confectioner is just perfect when you’re looking for something to satisfy your hero’s (or heroine’s) sweet tooth: the book starts with biscuits (including chocolate biscuits, orange biscuits, and French maccaroons), continues with cakes, wafers, drops (perhaps your hero likes munching bergamot drops? Seville orange drops?), and also includes recipes for jellies, creams, ice creams and water ices (well, okay, you’d probably want to skip No. 153, “Parmasan Cheese Ice Cream”). And then, of course, there are the recipes for alcoholic beverages (elder wine, cowslip wine, orange wine, cinnamon liqueur, coffee liqueur, etc.)

Recipe for Parmesan Cheese Ice CreamFor the Victorian period, there is the ever-wonderful Mrs. Beaton, whose cake recipes often include breath-taking amounts of eggs (16 for the Rich Bride Cake!) and who also gives you advice on the duties of servants – perfect! Moreover, Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management includes suggestions for seasonal dinner menus. And while there are a few dishes I really wouldn’t want to see on the table in front of me (boiled calf’s head with tongue and brains, anybody?), I’d be more than happy with the roast ribs of beef, the grilled mushrooms, with the Charlotte Russe and the rhubarb tart (yum!).

But, alas, at the moment I’m not doing research on 19th-century food. I am doing research on Roman food.

Oh dear, Roman food.

*hides behind her couch and whimpers*

First of all, there is the infamous garum, the stuff the Romans apparently poured over almost anything – like ketchup. Only, well, garum wasn’t made from tomatoes, but from fish.

Rotten fish.

In his De re coquinaria (On the Art of Cooking), Apicius included a particularly nice recipe for garum: take gills, fish intestines, fish blood, salt, vinegar, parsley and wine, throw everything into a vessel, and leave it out in the sun for three months. Afterwards, stain and bottle (= fill into an amphora).

And as if rotten fish sauce wasn’t bad enough, there is also the stuff that the Romans ate at posh dinner parties.

Think sow’s udders stuffed with giant African snails.

Or fried dormice rolled in honey and poppy seeds.

But hey, if you don’t like something, you can always pour garum over it!

[Note to self: Should you ever write another historical set in Roman antiquity, DON’T GIVE ANY OF YOUR MAIN CHARACTERS POSH FRIENDS!!!!! No extravagant Roman dinner parties EVER again!!!!]

 

*Unless you’ve managed to dislocate your heroine’s shoulder

I’m a bit late with posting today because I spent a really long day at university, inflicting Shakespeare’s Othello on my students around midday and then grading for the rest of the day. As a consequence this post is going to be rather short — sorry about that!

I’m currently on deadline for my Roman romance (cue blood-curdling scream) (have I already mentioned that I wrote this thing longhand and that I still need to type most of it up?), and I’ve reached that happy stage where I’m convinced that writing the book was a BIG FAT mistake to begin with and that my poor editor will forever hate me for forcing her to read the manuscript (or she will just drop dead from the sheer awfulness of it). So to cheer myself up, I’m experimenting with digital art and developing character portraits. This, I’ve found, is not only a lot of fun, but it also helps me to better visualize my characters.

Thus, I’m always thrilled to pieces when I manage to render a particularly nice portrait of Lia, my heroine. One, in which her skin doesn’t look like plastic, in which her shoulder doesn’t look completely dislocated, and in which she isn’t hovering above the (anachronistic) chaise longue. But sometimes, an image turns out just perfect, which means you can drool over your heroine’s pretty dress. (Anachronistic as well, but who cares? A female character in Spartacus could have totally worn this! she says with her tongue firmly planted in her cheek)

Lia, by Sandra Schwab
But as to the guys? Oh dear, the guys! They all end up with gray skin that would suit a zombie extremely well. Or with red skin that looks like a bad case of sun burn As I write neither zombies nor lobsters, the skin issue is a bit unfortunate.

And in couple pics? If you’re really lucky, both of your figures end up looking … er … odd. As in this one. Guy looks like a lobster, gal looks plastic-ish. Duh. (Also, what’s up with their right hands? The hands seem to have merged and her middle finger now grows out of his middle finger. Gah!) (But hey, at least her hair and her dress are pretty!)

a draft for a new cover of Bewitched by Sandra Schwab
Still, I hope that I’ll eventually be able to use these images as promo images and perhaps even for my covers.

As soon as I’ve figured out how to solve the skin issue (and all the other stuff)!  🙂