Coin of the Realms (Part I)

In the earliest incarnation of WITCH I tried to avoid naming the currency, opting instead for ‘gold,’ ‘silver,’ and ‘copper.’ One of my first (and best) readers objected. ‘Too generic,’ he told me. ‘Call them pounds, francs or dollars, but call them something.’

I thought about what he’d said. I struggled to differentiate the word ‘franc’ from the history of the French peoples. Pounds, likewise, tilted my thoughts towards the United Kingdom. If I wanted to create a plausible new world, I realized, I needed to learn the history of currency.

Which, you know, thank heavens for wikipedia. But another problem nagged at me. How many different varieties of currency were in play in the American colonies in the 16th century? The British, Spanish, and French (to name just three) all had influence in the New World. I didn’t need to develop a single currency system; I needed three or four.

And I needed to preserve that information so I could refer to it later.

(to be continued.)

Past Predictive?

io9 shares a new thesis about the origins of the Ancient Mayan civilization:

What Triadan, Inomata and their colleagues’ new discoveries suggest is that great civilizations don’t grow out of previous dominant groups like the Olmec, nor do they arise in isolation. They are the result of hybridization. The Maya came to dominate Mexico, Guatemala and Belize because they were able to incorporate the innovations of the Olmec along with the discoveries and beliefs of many peoples in the area whose lives we are just now beginning to learn about. The ancient Maya were, in other words, a multiculture.

I’d like to propose one of the great strengths of the American people has always been hybrid vigor. If we hope to flower throughout the 21st century, we might be better served worrying less about how to drive people away from this country, and more about how to attract the best and brightest from across the globe.

Call of Lovecraft, Revisited

I should have pointed out in my previous post on the Dunwich Horror and H.P. Lovecraft that there are better adaptations of the author’s work for the screen.

Indeed, folks in Portland, Oregon (May 3rd through 5th) and San Pedro, California (September 27 through 29) can attend a film festival dedicated to the works of HPL.

Online, a short-ish (44 minute) silent piece does a particularly notable job with The Call of Cthulhu. Visit the promo site or (thanks, Hulu!) watch the video online right now.

On the Role of Imaginative Fiction, etc, etc. (Part II)

I don’t suspect anyone would argue with the notion that one role of imaginative fiction is to provide readers with an opportunity to escape the everyday. Professors might sniff at escapist fiction, but there is good and not-so-good escapist stuff. The good stuff…

  • Features relatable, sympathetic characters
  • Provides a consistently and imaginatively detailed setting
  • J.R.R. Tolkien famously crafted his own languages and myths. His chum C.S. Lewis cobbled together Narnia out of bits borrowed from hither, thither, and Christianity. Narnia fascinated me as a child but lost my interest long before Middle-Earth. I attribute that in part to more vividly drawn characters (with Eustace the principal exception in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.) Tolkien also offered a more disturbing villain and heroes without access to a (lionesque) deus ex machina.

    He also offered a haunting vision of a utopia under threat. I’m not sure it’s fair to say good imaginative fiction is to required to present a vision of a world we think superior to our own. But that notion has never been far from my mind all these years I’ve been thinking about the world of Northern Arcadia.

    Dunwich Horror Show (circa 1970)

    Until the end of April, Netflix will offer subscribers an opportunity to instantly download and watch the 1970 film version of the Dunwich Horror. It’s goofy, and mildly amusing in a campy seventies way, but it has little to do with the original story from which it derives its name. I find that to be unfortunate.

    H.P. Lovecraft is a uniquely American author, with a flair for horrifying imaginative fiction. His portrayal of early New England society excited my interest as a kid growing up in Rhode Island. The imaginative power of his cosmology excites my interest and admiration as a grown-up type writer.

    You wouldn’t guess from his legacy, but in his lifetime Lovecraft was not a great commercial success.

    On the Role of Imaginative Fiction at the Present Time (Part I)

    The complexion of the world is as troubled as I can remember. Here in the US, the people are divided into two badly drawn groups. A large number of our elected officials are too craven and corrupt to support any legislation that threatens the revenue streams of our corporate overlords. I ask myself:

    Shouldn’t I be doing something more important than writing books about made-up people in a make-believe world?

    A couple of questions bubble up as I try to figure an answer. First, what do I mean by important? Second, what purpose do books of fiction serve, if any? Is my stubborn quest for publication a purely selfish enterprise (or just mostly selfish)?

    The first question daunts me with its scope. The third is too easy to bother answering. But the second question? A provisional answer for that will be forthcoming in short order.

    Patriots Day 2013

    Two explosive devices detonated in Boston today. I went to university in Boston; the city schooled me. I fell in love, got robbed, and even did a little growing up. I lived too close to Kenmore Square to enjoy Patriots Day much. The crowds always stayed amiable, but the crush could get intense, even in usually deserted locales like Charlie’s Diner and Nemo’s Pizza, a few doors down from Store 24.

    I don’t understand why anyone would lob bombs in the midst of all that happiness. I don’t care what cause or creed is invoked by the perpetrators; nothing can justify the murder and maiming of innocents.

    No blog post tonight. My imagination (and heart) is in Boston.

    Revision Histories

    The Nova/National Geographic documentary ‘Great Incan Rebellion’ challenges the old story of ‘Spanish Conquistadors arrive in New World and use superior technology to crush primitive native peoples.’ Forensic pathologists collaborate with archaeologists and historians to uncover a much more plausible narrative, in which the discontents and ambitions of the native tribes of the Andes feature prominently.

    I don’t doubt for a second that steel, gunpowder and horses gave the Conquistadors a significant advantage. But advanced technology alone is no guarantee of success, no matter what the myth makers may want us to believe.

    Reflections and What Lies Beneath

    The ‘money pit’ on Oak Island in Nova Scotia has a (multi?) storied history. I’m not going to try to recap the history of the place: the Wikipedia page on the ‘money pit’ is thorough, balanced and sharply written. Cribbed from that is a list of the ‘treasure’ believed to be waiting: pirate doubloons, British or Spanish government money, Marie Antoinette’s jewels, the Ark of the Covenant, proof that Francis Bacon was the real author of Shakespeare’s plays, and (naturally) the Holy Grail.

    I’m inclined to view the pit itself as the treasure. It’s better than a reflecting pool, because it reveals the innermost hopes, desires and dreams of all the seekers who come looking to plumb its mysteries.

    The Fools Lecture Series, Vol II: Naming Names

    In the manuscript for ‘Thief,’ a large fortified structure constructed by persons unknown is central to the events that unfold. The name for that structure that I’ve used the past year (‘the Spire’) never fit perfectly, and that minor failure itched like a half-healed sunburn. The itch needed to be addressed.

    First, I searched for alternates to the noun ‘Spire.’ While I liked the evocative power of ‘Spire,’ I wanted something more tangible, descriptive and (of course) concrete.

  • Fortress
  • Tower
  • Castle
  • Redoubt
  • Keep
  • All of these had the solidity I wanted, but no glamor. I tapped my pen against my mouth (terrible habit when you’re holding an uncapped Sharpie) and I came up with more options.

  • Lighthouse
  • Monument
  • Stele
  • Needle
  • My interest was pricked by ‘needle.’ Vivid noun, but I felt like it needed an adjective or modifier of some sort. More scratching on paper with my Sharpie and I had another list.

  • Iron
  • Silver
  • Marble
  • White
  • Obsidian
  • Sapphire
  • Redemption
  • Dominion
  • Elvish/Dwarfish
  • Vernus
  • ‘Redemption’ refers to the Bay the former-Spire watches over, ‘Dominion’ the principal military power of the colonial period, and Vernus was the name I’d settled upon for the man who discovered the ‘Spire.’ Many of the place names we take for granted (Virginia, Jamestown, Columbia) honor individuals. ‘Vernus’ Needle’ didn’t exactly fall sweetly from the tongue, though. More tapping of my pen against my mouth. Sharpe’s Needle, now… that sounded better. Switching the name from ‘Vann van Vernus’ to ‘Sir Sydney Sharpe’ is easy enough, this early in the game.

    And the itch I’d felt to revise that name vanished.