Last night, my nine year-old son and I were watching the Simpsons, and there was a pun involving an erection.

The Son: Mommy, what’s an erection?
Me: Gasp.
Me: Um, let me see in what context. [rewind to see. Yup, it means what I think it means.] Gulp.
Son: You don’t have to say (he’s seen my face, and is worried he said something wrong).
Me: No, it’s fine. An erection–deep breath–is when a boy or man’s penis gets hard.
Son: Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. Oh. Okay. [he is now way more embarrassed than I could ever be].

So, yeah, my first foray into the Facts of Life. And, since I was stuck on what topic to write about today, kind fellow Twitter-er Andrea Pickens suggested I talk about teaching sex in the Regency.

Uh . . . basically, country-born kids who weren’t idiots could figure out, through observation, that their parts worked similarly to the farm animals around them (and perhaps gave rise to the first utterance of “hung like a horse?”). But what about city-raised or particularly obtuse kids?

Then, perhaps, it was up to the parents.

I learned about the machinations of sex through reading my mom’s salacious books. The Regency Miss (or Mister) didn’t have Rosemary Rogers (or adult magazines) to help, however, so then it was up to the same sex parent to explain. And you can bet that some parents didn’t explain at all, either because they were embarrassed, or didn’t care, or whatever.

Can you imagine what would happen the first time?

We’ve talked about it before, but given all this, it seems as though our heroes and heroines, if they’re virgins, know a lot more than they likely would have. But then again, it is romantic fiction. If it were literary fiction, perhaps the author would show all the awkwardness and fumbling; we just show the bliss.

Who explained it all to you? Or did you read about it, like me? What is the silliest sex myth you’ve ever heard?

Thanks!

Megan

Sometime they’ll give a war and nobody will come.

Carl Sandburg (1878 – 1967), The People, Yes (1936)

Okay, so I’ve had this bee in my bonnet since finishing Bernard Cornwell‘s Rebel a few weeks ago:

What is it with people going out to watch battles being waged, as though it’s a Cirque de Soleil performance or something?

In Rebel, a bunch of politicians from the North go to watch their Yankees beat the Rebels (yeah, it’s a Civil War book) and bring their wives. The Southern ladies also set up a spot from which to watch the fighting.

And in some Regencies, and in Cornwell’s Sharpe series, people go watch the battle. I just don’t get it. Like, not get it so much that it’s really bugging me.

Why would anyone want to go watch people die? Why treat it as an exhibition? What happens if your side loses and the victors decide they want some of your lovely fried chicken? Or if you distract someone fighting so they lose an eye or something worse?

I know it’s a small thing, but I just cannot fathom how this even came to be. Not that there weren’t observers at these types of battles; journalists often came to write up the proceedings for their papers. But dilettante viewers?!?

But because I am a writer, I wonder how the fact of observing battle could be turned into a fun or provocative book: What if a woman watched and learned how to fight? Then joined up herself, in drag? What if someone saw one soldier kill his commander in the heat of the battle–but no-one else saw? What if the observers saw a way, because of their position, for their side to win if they had some crucial information?

What would you never want to see in person? What have you always wanted to see for real? How could you imagine a Regency lady would react to seeing this carnage? What other scenarios for fiction could you imagine?

Thanks, and I am really glad to get this off my chest,

Megan

Some intriguing, perhaps disheartening, news from across the water:

This week, the BBC announced it planned to move away from traditional 19th century costume dramas in favor of a grittier look at the period and a new focus on other historical eras.

A senior BBC drama insider said, “There is to be an evolution in the presentation of period dramas, moving away from classic 19th century so-called ‘bonnet’ dramas to looking at other periods of history. This will allow us to look at other times and places in British and world history. The aim is to give drama audiences something new and different to enjoy.”

Traditional costume dramas would not be abandoned altogether, but the BBC will focus on the new type of period drama–an adaptation of the award-winning novel Small Island, about Jamaican immigrants moving to Britain in the 1940s, and Desperate Romantics, about a group of “vagabond painters and poets” set among the “alleys, galleries and flesh houses of 19th century industrial London”, among the first to be broadcast later this year.

While at first blush this might seem like bad news for fans of the costume dramas–and that still might be true–it might be beneficial in the long run to revitalizing the BBC drama and placing “costume dramas” within a wider drama context, thus making the “costume drama” not just a precious oddity, but another subset under the Drama banner.

I do worry sometimes that our (meaning historical fans) tendency to fetishize our history means it doesn’t translate to a broader audience. I like the idea that the BBC is branching out, as we encourage our readers and authors to branch out in era, location and characters.

What do you think?

Megan

Last year, I foisted my opinions of not just books, but music and film.

This year, I see no reason not to be as rude as before. Apparently, I love foisting.

So this year–

I continued reading a lot of series. I kept up with my J.R. Ward Crack Vampire fetish, reading Lover Enshrined. Still love her, the voice and story is worth any repetition, and I cannot WAIT for Rehvenge’s story.

I also still love Meljean Brook, whose Demon Night I devoured (I got Demon Bound, too, but haven’t read it yet. My bad.) Brook is one of the few authors who is both a guilty pleasure and a learning experience; she writes with such depth and knowledge that you have to think as you read, but her stories are fast-paced, dangerous and compelling.

Also on the paranormal tip is Carolyn Jewel‘s My Wicked Enemy, which I had the privilege of reading before it got to print, and then I reread it after it was published. I am happy to say Carolyn fixed all the parts I mentioned in my critique (insert smiley face here). Her demons are intense, dramatic and dark; her heroines are equally intense.

I read the last of Lilith Saintcrow‘s Dante Valentine series–really, if you like dark noir-ish paranormal, check this series out. Danny both kicks ass and takes names, and her mate Japhrimel is totally hawt. I began Saintcrow’s next series, featuring Hunter Jill Kismet, and love it, too, although there is no hero yet to equal Japhrimel (sob).

On the historical side, I read Elizabeth Hoyt‘s To Taste Temptation and To Seduce A Sinner, both of which I liked, although nothing’s reached the mastery (for me, at least) of The Raven Prince. I guess nothing ever compares with your first.

I know I read more historical than that, but for the life of me, I can’t remember anything. Oy. The brain addling, apparently it starts happening after forty.

In another series continuation/ender, I finished Barbara Hambly‘s Dead Water, featuring Benjamin January. Again, an author who is deep and educational while still writing a crazy creative and intricate story. She has the biggest vocabulary of any author I’ve read besides A.S. Byatt.

This year in music, I discovered two Forever-My-Favorite-My-God-These-Are-Amazing-Records: Adele and Duffy. Both young British singers, both soulful in their way, both incredibly intimate and earwormingly catchy. I also loved (Beyonce sister) Solange‘s single “Sandcastle Disco” and Estelle‘s debut, especially “American Boy” featuring Kanye.

In movies–we saw the Dark Knight, but I wasn’t blown away. Sue me. I thought Heath Ledger‘s performance was eerily awesome, and Christian Bale makes Anne Stuart’s heroes look cheerful, but the whole didn’t equal the parts, for me, at least. I received a Netflix subscription for my birthday, so I spent a lot of time watching historical dramas: The Forsyte Saga, with Damian Lewis, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Northanger Abbey, Jane Eyre, etc. I also saw Bent, starring Clive Owen, which was fantastic, and not just because Clive is in it. The Chancer series, for example, stunk, although a young (and gawky!) Clive was in it.

This year, I am looking forward to more Ward, Brook, Saintcrow, Jewel and Hoyt; Carla Kelly and Loretta Chase both have new books out, too. I will continue to delve through the TBR pile, and will try not to fret that I’ve been reading a book for two weeks, which is an eternity in Frampton Reading Land.

Thanks for indulging me! What series are you hooked on? What are you looking forward to in 2009?

I am not ashamed–and never have been (check last year for proof)–to admit that I make resolutions. Classic ones, even, like lose weight, exercise more, and stop drinking so much damn coffee.

Okay, that one is so not going to fly. But the losing weight and exercise, that I am going to do (really. I usually do follow through).

And, since I do make Resolutions, it might be a good time to see how I did. Let’s see . . . last year, I did lose weight (which I regained, but that just means a fresh Resolution for this year!), I did get an agent (!), although I haven’t sold any books yet. I have caught up on sleep, somewhat, and yes, I have been having more sex (not that you asked).

This year, in addition to the usual things, I resolve to write more productively, waste less time, be a better friend and stop worrying about how many books I’ve been able to read, because fewer books read means more book written–theoretically, at least.

Maybe you’ve shared your resolutions already (I’ve been sleeping, ‘member, so I haven’t spent enough time at the computer lately), but what do you look forward to in 2009?

Megan