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Category: Regency

Ah . . . Regency gambling. Dice, horse races, and most of all — card playing. What’s not to love?

For both writers and readers, gambling scenes hold the promise that anything can happen. Fortunes (and brides) won or lost on the turn of a card . . . men arrested for playing illegal games like hazard or faro . . . duels that originate with allegations of cheating . . . ladies who lose their reputations for gambling too deeply, or for visiting a gaming hell . . .

Even the games have fabulous names: bizarre names like piquet, loo, basset, E-O, Pope Joan, vingt-un, cassino, quadrille, lansquenet, faro; names that hint at what goes on in the game, like commerce and speculation; and a few games that are still played today under the same names, like whist and cribbage.

Authors: have you used card games (or other forms of gambling) in your novels? What challenges did you face in doing so? Did you find yourself writing less or more detail about the actual gambling than you originally intended?

Everybody: which are your favorite gambling or card-playing scenes in Regency-set fiction? Which works do you think succeed best in this area? Or are there scenes in Regency-set films or television which you think have great gambling scenes?

Have you ever played Regency card or dice games? Which ones? Did you love them . . . hate them . . . become desperately addicted, and lose the family estate . . . or find yourself eating your chocolate coins instead? 🙂

Cara
Cara King — www.caraking.com
MY LADY GAMESTER — Signet Regency, November 2005

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged , | 10 Replies


I know some people don’t see the connection when chick lit is compared to Jane Austen, but I can’t help seeing many parallels between her world and ours. Maybe one of the reasons her works are classics?

A few days ago, I watched a show involving the new concept of speed-dating. At least, I think it’s a fairly new thing, I’ve been out of the dating scene (is it still called a “scene”?) for over 17 years. Yikes! Anyway, for anyone else who is terminally behind the times (when I first got spam about Paris Hilton I thought there must have been a scandal at a Parisian hotel), speed dating apparently involves couples seated at rows of tables who get to talk for something like 8-10 minutes before moving on to another partner. By the end of the evening, anyone who enjoyed their brief time together can arrange for a longer date.

Is this a hip and clever new way of weeding out people one would hate to be stuck with for a full-length date? Perhaps. But is it so different from Regency balls and assemblies, ranging from the exclusive events at Almack’s to the public assemblies held at inns and such in towns and larger villages all over England?

Think about it. Singles at a Regency ball were expected to have a range of partners; no more than a couple of dances with just one. And given all the action and intricate movements, were they left with much more than 8-10 minutes to converse?

A fairly efficient way for a busy aristocrat (one of those who actually minds his estate and his duties to Parliament) to interview potential brides.

But I’m also sure it was a good way to identify the partners a lady would rather NOT take a carriage ride with the next day. The aging roué with sawdust padding out his calves (Regency equivalent of a lounge lizard). The lisping, mincing dandy. The bored rake who despises country dances? (Which I happen to think are good fun.) The bluff country squire with long stories of his hunting dogs, who steps on your delicately embroidered hem with his BOOTS since he couldn’t be bothered to change into regular shoes for a ball. Oops! I think that last one has appeared on more than one Regency cover, impersonating a Hero. I’d better stop while I’m ahead…

Elena
www.elenagreene.com

Posted in Regency | Tagged , , | 7 Replies

Okay, the next time you see a modern Regency cover and get frustrated that there’s a zipper there — remember that it could be worse! Regency covers nowadays, even at their very worst, are mostly historically accurate. In the past, even Georgette Heyer had some atrociously anachronistic covers. (Though I must admit, some of them were charming.) 🙂

This Heyer I admit I don’t find so charming. If I were in a bookstore looking at the book, I would mostly find it dull and drab — as well as, of course, a bizarre choice of clothing for a novel set during the 18th century. This is a Bantam edition from 1969. The hero has a very modern hairstyle, and — well, looking it over, I think the artist may have actually intended for the picture to be of a 1969 couple. But there were so many very inaccurate covers in the 1960’s — showing that clearly many artists had no concept of how period clothes were made, and the like — that I think it’s often honestly hard to tell if the picture was mean to be period or not!

With Megan Daniel’s “Miss Pennington’s Choice” we have the Regency flapper. True, the scene is at a masquerade — but what a clever costume, to see a hundred years into the future! This was published by Berkley through their Charter imprint, in 1988. Though looking more closely, I have decided that she isn’t even a 1920’s flapper — she’s a 1988 woman, complete with 1988 makeup and earrings, in a costume. (No flapper worth her feathers would have had cleavage like that! They all wanted to look like they had the figures of twelve-year-olds.) From a marketing point of view, the cover has its assets — it is bright and lively, and conveys a scene as well as a relationship.

That’s the most recent cover I have posted here — most are from the 1960’s.

Here’s a 1977 Ballantine edition of Alice Chetwynd Ley’s 1966 “The Master and the Maiden.” Here we have a Victorian lady in 1812! And I’m amazed by the detail the artist went to to portray a vastly inaccurate costume. The gentleman is much less detailed — but equally anachronistic, I think. The scene is somber, with a bizarrely spotty background. It does convey some emotion, but it certainly doesn’t look like a fun book.

Though, to be honest, I suspect it is also a fairly serious novel — I haven’t read it (at least, not recently enough to remember it), but it begins with an author’s note saying it is based on the Luddite Revolts. No, not light-hearted stuff.

In this 1968 Ace Books edition of Elizabeth Renier’s “The House of Granite” , we have a Regency hero with a 1960’s heroine. Hmm…. The art is simple, and a little weird — bold black lines around everything, lending an almost cartoony look on first glance. On second glance, I see the artist has gotten a surprising amount of detail in. I hate her dress, and the overall look is too Gothicky for me (I was never into books with heroines in nightgowns running away, and this has a bit of that feel), but for its era, it’s not actually that bad. (Which isn’t saying much, is it?)

The SeBastian cover is my favorite, in the same way that Wickham was Mr. Bennet’s favorite son-in-law. Yes, believe it or not, this book is set squarely during the Regency. But not only is the heroine in 18th Century dress, with a faux medieval hairstyle (!), the colors of her dress are hideous. This atrocity was committed by Popular Library in 1978. And even from just a marketing standpoint, I think it’s a terrible cover. It looks childish, and the heroine looks terribly passive. But I notice that the heroines on the Ley and the Heyer covers look quite passive too — I suspect it was the style of the period….

Cara
Cara King, MY LADY GAMESTER, Signet Regency 11/05
www.caraking.com

Posted in Reading, Regency | Tagged | 12 Replies

Like almost every other writer/reader, I have a TBR pile. No, pile is a vast misnomer–it’s s structure, a mountain. For a long time, I had these books stacked in my hallway, blocking the coat closet and waiting to brain unwary passers-by. Until one day, when the volumes went almost to the ceiling, my cat tried to climb up the pyramid and started an avalanche. Books were scattered far and wide, and I knew I had to make a change. Get organized. So, I bought a slew of clear plastic tubs at Target and started packing the volumes away to store them in the garage (after I moved the car out, of course). To a non-reader this sounds like a quick and easy job, but we here at Risky Regencies surely know better. This job took days, weeks, because I ended up sitting on the floor re-reading old favorites, starting new books I’ve been meaning to get to, just basically wasting time and having fun.

I sorted these books into several stacks–books I will read soon, books I will read some day (when I’m 80?), and books to give away (I think there were about 3 of these). Then I found it. A battered, taped-up copy of the Very First Regency I ever read–Marian Chesney’s AT THE SIGN OF THE GOLDEN PINEAPPLE. And nostalgia set in.

A little backstory. Unlike lucky Megan, my parents were never great readers. But my grandmother was, and she was always taking me to the library and giving me books as presents. Some of them I loved, like the Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables series (for their romantic elements, and their plucky, wanna-be writer heroines). Some I loathed (like the egregious, treackle-beset POLLYANNA and ELSIE DINSMORE). But I devoured them all.

My grandparents lived on a sort-of farm, and every summer we visited them for several weeks. This particular summer, when I was 8 or 9, someone gave my grandmother a couple of big boxes full of romance novels, and I ended up sitting in the closet (where the boxes were stored) and reading the whole time. At first it was just a fun way to avoid my cousins, who only ever wanted to play Star Wars and brooked no deviation from the script. Boring. Soon, though, I was totally hooked, living in a world of country estates, Almack’s, handsome dukes, and high-perch phaetons. I could not even be lured away by my grandmother’s German chocolate cake.

These boxes were filled with mostly Cartlands, with a couple of Heyers, and some old Fawcett and Harlequin Regencies. I was somewhat familiar with the period, having seen the Garvie-Rintoul P&P, and I loved the clothes, the manners, the witty atmosphere. I was so excited when I pulled a book out of the box–AT THE SIGN OF THE GOLDEN PINEAPPLE–and saw the words “Regency Romance” at the top. I devoured it on the spot, and then dug out every single volume that also declared itself a “Regency.” The monster was unleashed.

I don’t remember a huge amount about that particular book. It was maybe set in Bath, and the heroine ran a Gunter’s-style shop. But it sucked me into a fabulous, fascinating new world I couldn’t get enough of. I still can’t.

So, I’m curious. What are the books that first drew YOU into the Regency? What did you like about them, what kept drawing you back? What was your first time like?

Ten things you’ll never hear a regency heroine say:

1. Hell with Almack’s. I think I’ll stay home and entertain myself with the footmen.
2. I might as well marry the first man who offers for me. I can always have passionate love affairs afterward.
3. I never really wanted to be a writer/surgeon/spy/scientist/explorer/archaeologist/herbalist/
highwayperson/governess/publisher/artist/balloonist/acrobat/pirate/opera singer/engineer. It just seemed to make me more attractive to eligible men.
4. Oh, Papa, what a shame you gambled away the family fortune. I’m afraid I can’t think of anything I could possibly do to help out.
5. A devastatingly handsome, notorious, wicked rake? Eeeew.
6. I know it’s our wedding night, but would you mind terribly if I got on with my knitting?
7. I don’t care if that adorable lisping child is the apple of the hero’s eye. If she doesn’t shut up I’ll slap her.
8. Pay no attention to my siblings. They’re only here for the sequels.
9. Would you mind using one of those thingies made from animal intestines?
10. You don’t have any? Look in my reticule.

Ten things you’ll never a regency hero say:

1. No brandy for me, thank you. It gives me terrible wind.
2. But I always wear a nightshirt and nightcap. Why should it be any different tonight?
3. All this striding around is giving me groin injuries.
4. No, no. I insist, madam. You take the floor. I’ll be quite comfortable in this huge bed.
5. Send my valet for some Rogaine. I have been indulging in overmuch hair raking.
6. I’m afraid some women have complained it’s rather on the small side.
7. I am Everard Dominic Benedict Ashford Alexander Artichoke FitzGrennan, Duke of Hawkraven, known and feared as Satan’s Elbow, but you may address me as….Cuddles.
8. I really don’t want to go to a gambling hell tonight. Couldn’t we just stay home and read up on the bills we’re supposed to vote on tomorrow in the House?
9. Butler, remove this strange woman from my bed immediately.
10. Waterloo? Oh, it was quite fun, actually.

Janet

Posted in Frivolity, Regency | Tagged | 10 Replies