Cruel Music

The Other Mozart

2011-12-09T09:47:00.001-05:00

The greatest challenge to writing historical fiction is sinking into the mindset of characters whose personalities have been shaped by environments radically different from my 20th-century upbringing. Films set in the 18th century are one aide to helping me understand Tito Amato's world and writing scenes that will draw my readers right in. The very best films illuminate every small detail of life at that time. I can usually find a useful nugget of information even in the worst. A new film by Rene Feret, Mozart's Sister, treds the middle ground.

The film tells the tale of the Mozart family on one of their endless journeys across Europe. As a contrast to most of the fictional material that draws inspiration from this talented musical family, the focus is on Nannerl, not Wolfgang. Indeed Feret seems to go to lengths to keep the boy in the background. The director examines Nannerl's aspirations to compose and perform, a goal thwarted by her father at every turn, despite the fact that she was acclaimed as both harpsichordist and vocalist. Some of Leopold's objections are culturally based. In a solid middle-class family of the era, it wasn't considered proper for a young woman to perform after she reached marriageable age. There was also the matter of Wolfgang's shining genius. Father and son are depicted as so immutably entwined in the creative process of composition and perfection of musical skills, that there simply isn't room for the talented older sister.

Feret heightens the drama by sprinkling in a relationship with a daughter and son of France's royal family. The Mozarts' coach breaks down near an abbey where Louise de France, youngest daughter of Louis XV is being cared for. Nannerl and Louise begin an unlikely friendship which leads to a flirtation with Louise's brother, the Dauphin. It's all piffle, of course. The historical Louise was fourteen years older than Nannerl, not several years younger. The real interest is the family drama, which is told in slow-moving, intimate detail. We see the Mozarts piled in one bed in close quarters, enjoying a celebratory feast prepared by Mama, squabbling over trivialities, even relieving themselves by the side of the coach on a deserted forest road. As portrayed by Marc Barbe, Leopold does come off as a loving father to both his children, making their way in the world as best he can, in contrast to the ogre he is often made out to be.

Louis, Dauphin of France (1729-1787)

Louise de France (1737-1787)

Nannerl is played by the director's daughter, Marie Feret. At times, her face and mannerisms show real emotion, but most of her acting is tentative and uninspired. Another Feret daughter, Lisa, is similarly underwhelming as Louise de France. The comparison between Feret displaying his two children in a film about a father who carts his two children around to perform for the aristocracy is interesting to say the least. Overall, the production design gives a valuable peek at both middle class and court life during the mid-18th century, but the film's lazy pace and a lack of focus made it less than tremendously enjoyable. I recommend it only if you have a passion for anything Mozart, historical drama, or are intrigued by the issues presented.

The real Nannerl in later life

Capturing the Small Picture

2009-08-30T10:07:00.004-04:00

Though the official release date for Her Deadly Mischief is September 1, Amazon now lists the book in stock. To mark that milestone, I want to delve back into how I came up with some of the ideas for this one.

Not too long ago, I tried to write a thriller. I've always loved Jurassic Park and basically anything from Michael Crichton's pen. Ditto Stephen King. I'm a writer, thought I, I'm going to try something different. Something BIG. Thirty thousand words into the manuscript, which involved a new generation desktop collider in Oak Ridge, Tennessee contacting a parallel universe, I realized that my particular writing talent is more on the "people level." Thrillers typically involve huge, save-the-world stakes and characters with more testosterone than backstory. My line is quieter, more personal, smaller.

I went back to Tito and the traditional mystery that encompasses family and social drama.

Like the other installments in the series, Her Deadly Mischief, advances Tito in both his personal life and his musical profession. I wondered what he would feel like in mid-career, how things would be going at home now that he had settled in with his wife, Liya, and taken on her son, Titolino, as his own. I decided that Tito must be feeling a bit jaded onstage. His roles have grown repetitive, and he's presented with few vocal challenges. Venetian audiences are more entranced with the spectacular stage sets and effects of real explosions and cloud machines than the music--when they stop socializing and politicking to pay attention to the performance at all.

At Tito's new home in the Cannaregio, Liya is growing restless. Her family lives in the Hebrew ghetto a stone's throw away, but she hasn't been welcome there since she took a Christian as a lover and refused to give up her out-of-wedlock child. I thought a plotline that would allow Liya to take the investigation into the ghetto would create some sparks with her extended family. Hence, the murder victim, Zulietta Giardino, a beautiful courtesan who was born Mina Grazziano, daughter of the ghetto's tax assessor.

I'd also become curious about other, random things. That's how I develop as a writer. Something catches my fancy and I want to find out everything about it. One thing leads to another. An example: Dwarf acrobats often entertained at the Venetian carnival and in the homes of noblemen. The artists of the era captured them on canvas--I remember standing in front of a Tiepolo painting for a long time at the Museum of the 18th Century at the Ca' Rezzonico. To me, the dwarfs seemed like the very opposite of Tito in physical terms--castrati were taller than average men--but they had several things in common. Both groups lived the life of a vagabond performer, entertaining by virtue of their unusual appearance and capabilities. I decided a dwarf had a place in my latest book, and the character of Pamarino was born.

Another thing on my mind was the movement of peoples to the New World. I wondered how many Venetians had migrated and what would lead them to leave their sophisticated homeland for such a raw, savage land. I've already talked about Murano glass in another posting, but not about the glass makers who peopled the early American colonies. There were Italian glass blowers in Jamestown as early as the first decades of the 1600's. They were drawn by the need for drinking vessels, the fine beach sand to make the glass, and the abundant wood to fire their kilns. I decided I'd have to include a glass maker who had his heart set on relocating, in this case to Charleston.

There's more in Her Deadly Mischief, of course. I managed to work in a lot of things I care about and want to explore. Take a look for yourself.

Murano Glass and Murder

2009-08-02T16:19:00.005-04:00

Right off the north side of Venice, clearly visible across the lagoon, is the island of Murano. Smaller than its nearby cousin, Murano mirrors Venice as a cluster of islets connected by bridges. It even boasts its own S-shaped Grand Canal. But Murano is famous for one thing that Venice lacks--the art of turning blobs of molten glass into fanciful and delicate objects.

Murano's fate as a center of the glass industry was sealed when the city fathers decided the kiln fires were too much of a threat to the main island and moved the glass masters and their workers to the smaller island. By the time Tito came along in the 1730's this was long-established practice. Also established were the strict regulations governing the glass furnaces. Because the Venetian masters had devised techniques that no others could master, they were considered national treasures. Artisans who left Venice to found glass or mirror factories elsewhere were dogged by secret agents of the Doge. If they refused to return, they could easily find themselves with a dagger in the ribs or a garrote around their necks. If any family members stayed behind in Venice, they could be tossed into prison and used as inducement to force the glass masters back home.

I hadn't thought much about involving Tito in glass blowing--it seemed so far away from his profession of singing. My editor at Poisoned Pen Press, Barbara Peters, was the one who raised the possibility for Her Deadly Mischief, the fifth Tito Amato Mystery due out in September. I tucked that in the back of my mind, and, on my 2007 research trip to Venice, my husband and I made sure to spend a couple of days on Murano. The main tourist season had passed, so we had the place practically to ourselves. In between the wonderful meals, we were amazed at the blazing, violent process that produced work of such fragility and entranced by the historic glassware on display at the Museo Vetrario.

The similarities of Tito's ephemeral, crystalline voice and the delicate glass that he could have shattered with a well-placed top note started a train of thought. I saw a small, fragile woman destroyed by violence sprawled on the floor of the theater. She'd been pushed from the highest tier of boxes, I was certain, but how to involve a glass maker? Like all writers, I'm constantly asking "What if?" In this case, what if a wealthy glass maker rented a box at the theater? Would they come all the way over from Murano to go to the opera? A bit of research told me they could and did. The most skillful artisans were granted unprecedented privilege, more like a nobility of glass than common workmen. They were actually allowed to marry into the ancient Venetian aristocracy whose names were inscribed in the Golden Book. Hmm...

Her Deadly Mischief takes place all over Venice--Tito's new home in the Cannaregio district, the Jewish ghetto that houses Liya's family, the theater, even the Basilica San Marco. But the parts set on Murano are particularly special to me, because I'll always remember the wonderful days we spent strolling the quiet pavements and wandering in and out of the glass factories. In the end, I'm glad I was pushed to figure out a way to get Tito over to Murano.

Atto Melani Update

2009-07-26T09:55:00.002-04:00

Looks like I'm not the only one fascinated by 17th-century castrato singer and spy Atto Melani. Some may remember my blogging and speaking about Atto's career as inspiration for Tito's adventures in Cruel Music, the third Baroque Mystery. Atto's story isn't an exact fit with Tito's--while Atto eagerly used his musical gifts to gain access that allowed him to report on court and state intrigue, Tito was forced into the role of spy--but it did give me ideas.

Cruel Music begins when Venetian politicians bent on having one of their countrymen elected Pope imprison Tito's sailor brother on trumped up smuggling charges. To save Alessandro, Tito reluctantly travels to Rome and becomes the resident singer in the villa of Cardinal Fabiani, the man who holds the next papal election in his hands. As Tito struggles to master the nuances and intrigues of Roman politics, murder ensues, of course!

Much of my research for Cruel Music was provided by a PhD thesis: Un Atto D'ingegno: A Castrato in the Seventeenth Century by musicologist Roger Freitas. Now Freitas has published a book based on his earlier work. Titled Portrait of a Castrato, the volume appears to cover much of the same territory as the thesis. It includes Atto's birth in Pistoia to a comfortably placed family which gave up three of its sons to be castrated for the sake of their lovely voices, a consideration of the social environment in which such a thing could occur, and an account of Atto's subsequent musical and political careers. I haven't bought the book--it's pricey--but based on Freitas' beautifully researched and written thesis, I recommend it to anyone interested in the castrati.

Another book that includes Atto as a character has also come to my attention: Imprimatur, a historical novel by husband and wife team Rita Monaldi and Francesco Sorti. Set in 1683 Rome during an outbreak of the plague, the plot delves into the possibility that Pope Innocent XI secretly financed the Protestant conquest of England that put William of Orange on the throne and led to the final downfall of James the II and the Catholic Stuarts. That sparks my curiosity as to how Atto could have been involved--by that time he had become an abate, a church official, and was apparently steeped in papal politics--but again, I haven't been able to obtain the book.

My usually well stocked library doesn't have it, and though it received international interest, a mass market version in English doesn't seem to be available. Why? Well, the Vatican has been accused of trying to suppress the novel. How true all of it is, I wouldn't want to hazard a guess. I'm just glad the Vatican didn't take an interest in the papal shenanigans that Tito encountered in Cruel Music.

If any of my readers have read either Portrait of a Castrato or Imprimatur, let me know what you think.

Amadeus

2009-07-14T13:15:00.006-04:00

During the past couple of years, I've been working my way through my local hard-to-find video store's stock of films set in the 18th century. I've now reached the last three available--the big three, I call them--the ones with settings so vivid and stories so true to the time that I might have stepped into a time machine as I watch. First, I'll discuss Amadeus (1984, directed by Milos Forman).

There's no need for an in-depth critique. You don't need me to tell you that Amadeus is a great film. After all, it won numerous awards, including Academy Awards and Golden Globes, and has made the American Film Institute list of 100 best films. For those who need a reminder, the film chronicles the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart as seen through the eyes of a jealous, mediocre composer, Antonio Salieri. Mozart is played by a laughing, goofy Tom Hulce, and Salieri by the multi-layered F. Murray Abraham. Salieri seems to love his rival as much as he hates him--though not so much to keep him from murdering the upstart so inexplicably bestowed with such talent by God.

Just a few general comments before I mention the particulars in the film that inspired my writing about Tito Amato's world. First, I think Peter Shaffer's concept is brilliant. Author of both the original play and the film's screenplay, Shaffer uses Salieri's reminiscence to explore flawed genius, overarching ambition, and the vagaries of fate. He reminds us that life is seldom fair and throws down a gauntlet: How far would you go to level the playing field? It doesn't bother me a bit that the details of the plot are unfounded, that we have no evidence that Salieri actually murdered Mozart. Given the personalities of the two men, it could have well happened. In Shaffer's hands, the fiction seems more real than historical fact.

The other issue that is often mentioned is Hulce's portrayal of Mozart. Yes, we know the real man had a serious case of potty mouth. We have that from his letters--his entire family was similarly affected. We also have contemporary accounts that put him in an uncomfortable light--discomfiting for us, I mean. We don't like to see the composer of such beautiful, uplifting music described as callow, selfish, silly or petty. Mozart was all those things at times, but really, I think Hulce's silliness is just off the scale. That's the one thing that bothers me about this otherwise excellently crafted movie.

Beyond pure enjoyment, I've watched Amadeus many times in an effort to better understand Tito's environment. From the pressure on both Mozart and Salieri to please their royal sponsors, I learned how utterly dependent on patronage the 18th-century musicians were. Tito is luckier than most because Venice's theaters were public rather than court institutions, but even Tito, his director Torani, and the several composers who craft his operas have to be expert boot-lickers. The film's scenes featuring the public performances of The Magic Flute were also very instuctive and probably more like Tito's opera house than the performances within the court's confines. It's hard to imagine how raucous public theaters were then. Tito has to duck rotten tomatoes and endure the audience singing along with him.

The Amadeus character that translates most closely to a character in the Tito Amato mysteries is soprano Katerina Cavalieri as played by Christine Ebersole. Cavalieri was a real person, "a greedy songbird" and mistress of Salieri. She inspired Adelina Belluna, the prima donna who is murdered in Interrupted Aria. There's also a lot of impresario Emanuel Schikaneder (Actor Simon Callow) in Maestro Torani, Tito's artistic director, older of course.

And then, the whole issue of a mysterious, intimidating masked villain figured heavily in The Painted Veil. I don't know if I would ever have come up with that particular plot device if I hadn't had it drummed into my brain by Amadeus.

What are the other two films that perfectly recreate the 18th century for me? I'll get to them soon, I promise. Until then I'll keep mum except for this clue--the next one was also directed by Milos Forman.

She's Got Me Covered

2009-05-31T09:59:00.005-04:00

Don't judge a book by its cover, the old saying goes. But that's just what the publisher wants you to do. A book's cover should beam out from book shop display table or shelf, luring the potential reader to stop and flip through its pages. "Pick me up and buy me," it should scream.

Fans of the delightful British TV comedy As Time Goes By will recognize the phrase. Middle-aged Lionel had written a dull account of his life as a coffee planter in Kenya, which his young tyro of a publisher illustrated with a big game hunter and busty babe on the cover. Well, nobody would buy it if they realized what it was really about, went the thinking.

Being the proud "mama" of five published novels, I would much rather my covers give the reader a hint of what's actually inside. Poisoned Pen Press has accomplished that goal with elegance and artistry. One reason my covers work is that I'm given the opportunity for a great deal of input. As soon as Interrupted Aria, the first book in the Tito Amato/Baroque Mystery series was in the publishing queue, the production manager put me in touch with artist J.J. Smith-Moore.

I'd envisioned a cover with a lush, old-master painting type of look, rather like the front of one of my all-time favorite reads, The Devil in Music by Kate Ross.

But J.J. was an illustrator who excelled at drawing. She suggested a design incorporating a macabre pen-and-ink drawing in the style of Edward Gorey. Intrigued, I sent her a number of photos, paintings and images that I'd used to help me describe Tito's travels around Venice. I also provided a synopsis of the story, and that's where J.J. got her main inspiration.

In Interrupted Aria, several people die from falling or being pushed from great heights. J.J. drew a man in 18th-century dress falling headfirst, and to work in Venice's fascination with masquerade, she topped the drawing with a horizontal strip depicting a masked woman. I was pleased--she had managed to catch the theme of the book in just a few simple artistic touches. There was only one suggestion I made--I liked the idea of the man's shoe flying off to give more of a sense of movement. J.J agreed and made that change for the final design.

For the next Tito book, J.J. went right to one of my images, and it's an outstanding one. The murderer disguises himself in the costume of the old medieval plague doctor. This is probably the most commented on of the four jacket design she's done for my series. I don't know if it screams, "Pick me up and buy me," but when I'm at book signings, it's the book people reach for first. Everyone seems to recognize the figure.
But my very favorite has to be the cover drawing for Tito's latest adventure, Her Deadly Mischief, set for a September 2009 release. Why? J.J. was unavailable, but the entire production team, including me, felt it was important for the cover to fit in with the rest of the series so that Tito's fans would recognize it right away. After several attempts to recreate J.J.'s style failed, I had a brainstorm.

My daughter had just graduated from a master's program where she concentrated on scenic design. She's also an accomplished theatrical painter. I'd seen her work splashed across numerous stages and knew she could turn her talents to portraying everything from Renaissance Italy in Romeo and Juliet to Dicken's London in Oliver to the 1940's in Pump Boys and Dinettes.

Could she draw small, just for once? Sure. Her initial renderings of scene designs were in the range of a book jacket. We had fun pouring over portraits of women in elaborate jewelry, one of the major plot points in the novel, and choosing the right look. And then she came up with just the right air of menace with a man's hands fastening a necklace. Or is he using it to strangle the lady?

Once Nan Beams at Poisoned Pen Press had worked the drawing into a finished design, I couldn't be more pleased with the result. Here's the finished product, with drawing by Megan Myers McKinney. This one will always be special.

The Four Horses of Venice

2009-05-24T10:23:00.003-04:00

Mary Reed sent me an intriguing email the other day. Besides facing life as eunuchs, her and Eric Mayer's sleuth John the Lord Chamberlain and my Tito Amato have one other thing in common. The sculptural grouping of the four horses pictured above formed part of the daily landscape of both men. Since about nine centuries and almost 900 miles separate the two detectives, how can this be? Sit back and read the tale of these wandering horses.

Their origin is one of history's mysteries. Based on information from Roman historian Pliny the Elder, the four gilded bronze horses are often attributed to Lysippus, a Greek sculptor of the fourth century B.C.E. Their location in Greece isn't known, but according to this story, an admiring Emperor Nero eventually brought them to Rome. Recent scientific analysis casts doubt on this theory, however. Investigation of the metal and its gilding shows evidence of Roman, not Greek, manufacture.

We do know that the four horses adorned the Hippodrome in Constantinople in time for John to view them during the reign of Justinian. Construction on the Hippodrome began around 203 A.D., but it was the emperor Constantine the Great who enlarged the Hippodrome and made it the city's main venue for athletic competitions, games, and chariot races. For hundreds of years, the horses stood atop the central arch of the stables where the live horses who pulled the chariots were housed. An artist's rendition of what the chariot gates might have looked like is below.

Years pass, and war raged between Christian and Muslims lands. During the fourth crusade in 1204, Venetians under orders from Doge Enrico Dandolo sacked Constaninople. The Hippodrome was destroyed, and the horses ripped from their mountings. They were transported back to Venice, stored at the Arsenale and eventually placed above the main entrance to the Basilica San Marco. They were still there in Tito's time, the mid-18th century. He crossed the piazza almost everyday and would have seen them looking down on the carnival antics that had taken over the great square.

Not for long, though. In 1797, Karma visited Venice in the form of Napoleon Bonaparte. The city that owed many of her magnificent treasures to medieval pillage, was in turn looted by the French general. The horses were crated up and sent to Paris where they found a temporary home on top of the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel. You can still see a sculpture consisting of horses, chariot and several figures on the monument, but these are not the four horses of Venice. France was forced to return the looted horses by the Congress of Vienna which attempted to impose order on post-Napoleonic Europe. Apparently, nobody gave a thought to pushing them back one additional looting and returning them to Constantinople.

Besides John and Tito, I wondered if there might be another fictional detective who viewed the horses during their French sojourn, 1806-1815. A quick glance through the enormously helpful timeline of mystery series at the Crime Thru Time website came up with only one prospect: Inspector LeBlanc as penned by Bernard St. James. I haven't read these, but as the series is set in early 19th-century Paris, who knows?

If we knew more about the horses' early wanderings across the ancient world, we might be able to come up with a few more sleuths connected to these bronze beasts. Gordianus the Finder? Marcus Didius Falco? Thanks, Mary, for coming up with an observation that let me take a break for some silly, but fun, research.

Vicki Delany

2009-05-08T17:24:00.003-04:00

Welcome guest blogger Vicki Delany, one of my favorite authors from the talented Poisoned Pen Press Posse. I haven't had time to read Gold Diggers, Vicki's latest mystery from Rendezvous Crime, but I'm looking forward to it.

The Pleasure of the Historical Novel

I was on a canoeing trip in Ontario's Algonquin Park several years ago with about six other people. It was night and we were relaxing after dinner, enjoying the firelight and the darkness and the sounds of the waves lapping on the shore and the trees moving in the wind. We were reflecting on the hard day of canoeing and portaging we'd had. I mentioned how ironic it was that we were paying good money, and using our valuable vacation time, to do what our ancestors would have considered nothing but hardship. They'd have thought we'd all gone mad!

My initial thought was of the Voyageurs, the legendary French Canadian fur traders who opened up the interior of Canada to Europeans. I also mentioned the Chilkoot trail and the path to the Klondike Gold Rush. Several people on the trip were from Europe and interested in the story, so I told them a bit about it. And as we talked, I thought... what a great setting for a book.

Gold Digger: A Klondike Mystery was published in April by the Canadian publisher Rendezvous Crime. It's the first in a new series featuring Fiona MacGillivray, a dance hall owner with a somewhat nimble-fingered past, her twelve year old son Angus, and Constable Richard Sterling of the North-West Mounted Police.

I am primarily a writer of contemporary police procedurals. Specifically the Smith and Winters series from Poisoned Pen Press, and at first I was a bit unsure about how to go about writing a historical. Would I be able to find out enough about the period to create a realistic background? Instead, I found that once I started doing the research, I might well never stop long enough to actually write the book. The Klondike Gold Rush lasted from 1896 to '99, although its heyday was really only one year, 1898 to '99. But that year created enough stories and legends to fill hundreds of books. And photographs--the pictures are incredible. I'll guarantee you've seen some of them (Think Alaska license plates!)

One of the reasons the Klondike Gold Rush is so well known is that it was the only one of the gold rushes to leave such a rich photographic record. the age of photography was just beginning, and the camera was becoming portable enough to be transported out of a confined studio and stiffly posed portraits to come into the streets (and to the gold fields) and capture scenes and people unaware.

It has been called the Last Great Gold Rush. Once the twentieth century began, industrialization and corporations largely pushed out free-wheeling independent prospectors and gold-seekers.

The Klondike gold Rush really did stand at the beginning of the modern world. The nineteenth century was coming to an end, the twentieth beginning. With so much hope and promise. In Gold Digger, the landlady Mrs. Mann, says to Angus, when he wishes they had a telephone: Many wonderful changes you'll see in your lifetime, dear.

The tragedy of the twentieth century is that all the changes weren't exactly wonderful. Angus is 12 in 1898--in 1914 he'll be 28, just the right age to enlist in World War I. One of the pleasures of reading historical novels is that we, the reader, know things that the characters do not. Such as where their world is heading.

But that's all for the future, and for now I'm just having fun being with Fiona and Angus and Richard in Dawson for the Last Great Gold Rush.

*****

Vicki Delany's newest book is Gold Digger: A Klondike Mystery, the first in a new series from Rendezvous Crime. She is also the author of the Constable Molly Smith series, most recently Valley of the Lost, from Poisoned Pen Press. Visit Vicki at www.vickidelany.com and http://typem4murder.blogspot.com

*****

Thanks a bunch, Vicki. The gold rush era is new historical territory for me. Sounds interesting. I'll add one more link. The Gold Digger page at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1894917804

Tito Amato--Number Five

2009-05-03T12:09:00.003-04:00

Now it feels real. I have a cover.

Her Deadly Mischief has an official pub date of September 2009--just in time for Bouchercon! But as every comma in the galley proof has been vetted two times over, the jacket design is set, and the finished product waits in line at the printer, I have to crow a little.

Tito's fifth adventure puts him back where he belongs. His sad wanderings are over, and he's smack dab in the middle of Venice, his golden voice wowing crowds from the stage of the Teatro San Marco. On the home front, his increasing fame and fat purse allow him to purchase a new home for his unconventional family. He leaves the little house on the Campo dei Polli to Gussie and Annetta and moves to a fine home on the Rio della Misericordia, a stone's throw from the Hebrew ghetto.

Life is wonderful until opening night of Maestro Torani's new opera, Armida. Tito has the entire audience entranced--except for one box with its scarlet curtains stubbornly drawn. Is this a lovers' assignation? A meeeting deep in political intrigue? Annoyed at being ignored, Tito aims the full force of his throat at the fourth-tier box. He is astounded when the curtains part and a woman tumbles over the railing like a life-size doll.

The victim is Zulietta Giardino, an enticing courtesan involved with a young glass maker from the island of Murano. As Tito is the only one to see the man who pushed Zulietta to her death, the chief of Venice's rudimentary police force demands his help. Did a wager over a rival courtesan's jewels lead to murder? Or did the motive involve sinister events concerning the glass industry on Murano?

Preorders are being taken at my publisher, Poisoned Pen Press:
http://www.poisonedpenpress.com

And at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1590582330

By the way, I love my cover. It's special for several reasons. More on that and the whole cover issue soon.

Finding an Agent

2009-04-26T10:01:00.003-04:00

A writerly topic today. A friend is going through a grueling agent search, which led me to recall my own experience.

Interrupted Aria, the first Tito Amato novel, was complete and polished when I set out on my own agent hunt. This was about 12 years ago. I still lived in Eastern Kentucky and was armed only with advice from internet writing groups. Despite a heavy dose of naivety, I managed to slog my way to success.

First I made a list of about 40 literary agents who represented mysteries and stated they were looking for clients. I found those agents by searching internet discussion groups and writers' conference websites, discovering who represented authors I admired (hint: check their acknowledgment pages), and pouring through Literary Market Place at the library. I was shooting for someone new enough to need clients who had also sold some material to large publishers.

Then came the reputation check--a key step as I'd heard horror stories of eager writers forking over hundreds of dollars to have their MS simply considered. The Association of Authors' Representatives maintains a website listing their members and explaining their canon of ethics regarding professional activities. The points that appealed to me were no charging of reading fees, separate personal and professional accounts, and avoiding conflict of interests with referrals to outside editors or "book doctors."
AAR http://www.aar-online.org

Preditors & Editors, a website hosted by the sci-fi magazine Another Realm, also has an inclusive list of agents. If there's dirt on an individual or agency, you'll find it here.
http://www.anotherealm.com/prededitors

Then I divided my handpicked list of 40 into four groups of 10. I used no particular order because I didn't want my top picks to all be in one query volley in case I had inadvertently written a bad letter or transgressed in some way I couldn't even predict. I chose 10 as a good volley number because it fell in the middle of what other authors seemed to be doing. Some queried five at a time. Others more like 20. Forget about one-at-a-time unless you want to make the agent hunt your new career.

My query was basically a personalized business letter introducing myself as a new author searching for representation and giving a short synopsis of Interrupted Aria. No confetti or other creative efforts to stand out. I included a paragraph about why I thought Venice and the early opera would make a good setting, and what I intended to do to market the books (attend mystery fan conventions, give talks at arts groups, etc.) I sent exactly what the agents asked for--some wanted only a query letter, most wanted the letter and a few pages of the MS. Some a synopsis, as well. I fashioned one-page, two-page, and four-page synopses. The precision was important because some agents are measuring your ability to work within a given structure.

In my first volley of queries, 2 agents never replied, 2 turned me down outright (interestingly enough the two I'd actually met at a writing conference), and the others all wanted to see more material. Two eventually asked for the entire MS. I chose Dan Hooker of the Ashley Grayson Literary Agency because he called me, talked to me for an hour, was very enthusiastic about my work, and had a plan to sell it. He asked for several editorial changes--he was right about all of them.

The good thing about Dan was that he ALWAYS returned emails and phone calls. He prided himself that all of his daily emails were answered before midnight, even if it was just, "I got your message, working on it." He also sent the rejection letters and every few months we had an in-depth phone call in which in gave me "the story behind the story" of each rejection, deciphering the editor-speak or adding history that he believed had gone into the editor's decision. He sold the book after two years and didn't bail when we had to go to the smaller presses--which many agents do.

I miss Dan! I'll never forget the day Ashley Grayson called to tell me he had died unexpectedly. I felt like the rug had been jerked out from under my feet. (Ashley is now my agent.)

The best advice to take away from my story is making a careful list of agents to query, following their guidelines to the letter, and being VERY persistent.

I was incredibly lucky to find Dan so quickly. I know many authors--even several who went on to big publishers--who report sending out 30-40 queries before connecting with the right representative for their work. So don't let a couple of rejections get you down. Have faith in your work and keep it circulating.

Tolerance

2009-03-22T12:05:00.004-04:00

Tolerance is a 1989 film about an innocent young wife who inherits a hermit in a relative's will. Huh?

Luckily, I knew a little about 18th-century hermits from watching Regency House Party, one of those PBS reality shows that gather a modern group and force them to meet the challenges of living in a historical time period. For a few decades of the 18th and early 19th centuries, it was the fashion to have a picturesque hermitage in your garden or tucked in a corner of your estate. Rather like a faux gothic ruin, only inhabited by a real person.

Potential hermits signed up for a seven year stint. The hermit was to wear a monk-like robe, and the rules prohibited him from leaving the estate or cutting his hair, beard or nails. Bathing was also frowned on. As best as I can tell, this charming custom combined the Romantic movement's fascination with an arcadian ideal and the Christian tradition of a contemplative life. The hermit was paid, however, if he fulfilled his contract.

So, back to the film. Rupert Everett plays the hermit who is at first sickened by his new employer's libertine husband, Marmant. Ugo Tognazzi plays Marmant with great abandon. Food, sex, beautiful clothing--Marmant revels in every earthly delight while his sweet wife repels his caresses and admires the willpower of the stalwart, starving hermit. Things begin to get weird when the hermit decides that he hates the libertine life so much that it would really be more galling for him to live like Marmant than to continue his existence in the garden hut. He has Marmant set up him in style, hating every minute of his new, luxurious life. Or does he?

If this piques your interest, I'll let you watch Tolerance (which happens to be the wife' name) and answer that question for yourself. To me the film goes a bit overboard, but it is well acted, combining seasoned French, English and Italian players to explore a little known corner of history. Given my own fascination with the nearly forgotten castrato singers of the same period, I do have to admire that.

BTW, the painting below is by Peter Paul Rubens. It predates the hermit fad by a century, but since its title is The Hermit and the Sleeping Angelica, I can't help wondering if it didn't inspire the film in some small way.

Dardos Award

2009-03-19T11:18:00.003-04:00

Ann Parker of the Silver Rush historical mystery series has kindly passed the Dardos on to me. Premio Dardos means "prize darts" in Italian and is awarded for recognition of cultural, ethical, literary and personal values in the form of creative and original writing. The rules are simple:

1) Accept the award by pasting the graphic on your blog along with the name of the person who granted the award and a link to his/her blog.

2) Pass the award to another 15 blogs that are worthy of acknowledgment, remembering to contact each so they know they have been selected.
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I'm going to follow Ann Parker's lead and whittle the number of awardees. It's a time factor, not a lack of interesting writers out there. Three blogs immediately sprang to mind because of their useful, well written and interesting content. My Dardos picks:

Kit Ehrman: Equus Caballus
Eric Mayer: Byzantine Blog
Jim Huang: Jim Huang's Blog

All have a mystery connection, but are very different. Check them out!

Dysfunctional Families--Now & Then

2009-03-15T17:27:00.005-04:00

Ah, families. Can't live with 'em. Can't live without 'em. Earlier this week I blogged about Tito's dysfunctional family, 18th-century style. See Jean Henry Mead's blog for a full recounting of Tito's siblings and relatives. Click here and scroll down. Mysterious People

I was a "lonely only," so I gave Tito the three brothers and sisters I always wish I had. I could do without the murderous ones, of course. Actually, I doubt I would have ended up a writer if I'd had siblings. To fill the time, I read a lot--read voraciously and depended on my books for entertainment and company.

Many other authors I've talked with had a similar experience. For a host of reasons, books were a very important part of our childhoods. Later in life, we were drawn to creating what meant so much to us. This is also why I write books that entertain and amuse rather than books that shine a light on the dark places. Been there, done that. Don't want to write about it.

Amazing Grace

2009-03-08T10:34:00.005-04:00

I found Amazing Grace (2006) to be an odd movie--an earnest recounting of the career of abolitionist William Wilberforce, more in the tone of a Masterpiece Theater offering than a commercial film. Since Wilberforce isn't exactly a household name, a bit of review is in order.

Wilberforce was an independently wealthy, British politician who led the fight to abolish Great Britain's slave trade. This trade was intensely profitable. Ships left England filled with British-made products bound for West Africa where the goods were sold and the empty holds crammed with slaves confined in horrifying conditions. After crossing the Atlantic, surviving slaves were sold to plantation owners in the West Indies, and the ships carried slave-grown products such as sugar, tobacco and cotton back to England. With a large part of Britain's economy at stake, Wilberforce and the other abolitionists faced terrific opposition.

The film opens with Ioan Gruffudd as Wilberforce ignoring his own ill and weakened state to upbraid a man for beating his horse (Wilberforce was also instrumental in founding the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals). In flashbacks we see his conversion to Evangelical Christianity, his long anti-slavery fight, and his romance with his future wife, another ardent abolitionist. The writing of the hymn Amazing Grace by John Henry Newton is woven into the story. Newton was a slave ship captain who repented of his former behavior and became an evangelical preacher. He supported Wilberforce, urging him to use his skills in politics rather than become a preacher.
Director Michael Apted is sensitive to the mindset of late 18th-century Britain. Besides the political and economic backdrop, we understand that the Evangelical Christianity of the abolitionists is a radical choice in an era when most of the middle and upper classes were staunch Anglicans. We are also led to consider the slaves' point of view in the character of Olaudah Equiano (acted by Youssou N'Dour), a former slave who wrote a moving, eye-witness account of his life in bondage. The cast is made up of expert actors, and the scenes and costumes well done.

For all that, the film misses the mark of true 18th-century sensibility. It has a contrived, fancy-dress quality that made for dull viewing. Perhaps it was the script that gave the characters pretty speeches but failed to enlighten their raw, passionate personalities. Recommended only if you want or need to painlessly absorb the main facts of Wilberforce's drawn out anti-slavery campaign. By the way, his side prevailed in two important parliamentary acts. The trade was banned in 1807--all slavery in the British dominions abolished in 1833.

Factoid: Wilberforce, Ohio in the southeastern quadrant of that state is named after Britain's great abolitionist. It was an important stop on the Underground Railroad in pre-Civil War times, and is now the the home of Wilberforce University and Central State College, two historically black institutions.

Barry Lyndon

2009-02-22T10:18:00.004-05:00

I first saw Stanley Kubrick's monumental Barry Lyndon in 1975. Being a perennial fan of anything and everything 18th-century, it stuck with me. I've been meaning to give it a re- screening for this blog but had to wait until I had a long, unfettered weekend afternoon. This is one looooong film, folks.

The plot is deceptively simple. Redmon Barry, a naive, headstrong young sprig of Irish gentry is forced from his home by an ill-considered duel. Once on the road, he is robbed of horse and purse by highwaymen and must join an English infantry regiment to survive. Soldiering in the 18th century was a dirty, dangerous business and Barry wants out as quickly as possible. The film follows our hero (anti-hero?) through desertion, press ganging into the Prussian army, unwilling service as a spy, and final leap to freedom as the assistant of a society card-sharp. Back in England, the ever ambitious and much less naive Barry seduces the wife of wealthy Lord Lyndon and becomes her second husband when the old lord dies. He sows the seeds of his own destruction by squandering her fortune and making an enemy of his stepson, who eventually wounds Barry in a duel and tosses him out with a scanty annuity.

The film is based on a novel by William Makepeace Thackery, but Kubrick adapted the plot to suit his own purposes. The original novel was written from Barry's first-person point of view and had a comic tone. An unreliable narrator, Barry made boasts that invited the reader to question the truthfulness of his tale. The film is laid out in a series of deadly serious vignettes. An unseen narrator (Michael Horton) strings these together with wryly condescending commentary. I believe Kubrick meant for Barry's rise and fall to be more complex than the plot summary would indicate. The lietmotifs of father-son relations and courage in the face of duels run through the film. Rather painfully, we learn along with Barry what it means to be a gentleman in the society of 18th-century Britain. Ironically, it is when Barry behaves as a true gentleman that he is cast back into poverty.

Which brings me to the major weakness in the film. Barry is in almost every scene--he must carry the film. Unfortunately, Ryan O'Neal plays Barry. O'Neal was cast coming off his commercial success of Love Story, but as the rest of his career has revealed, he doesn't have the acting chops to pull off the sensitive, nuanced work required to portray Barry Lyndon. O'Neal seems like an amateur floundering among the fine character actors that fill out the cast. Marissa Berenson as Lady Lyndon is another exception. She only has to appear vapid and beautiful in the amazing female costumes. She does that very well, but I wouldn't call it acting.

Standout performances were given by Leon Vitali as Barry's stepson, Lord Bullingdon; Murray Melvin as the absolutely spot-on Reverend Runt, the epitome of 18th-century suck-up and hanger-on; and Patrick Magee as the old gambler. Another plus is the visual aspect of both the interior and exterior scenes. I watched the remastered version and have to say that this is hands-down the most beautiful film of all that I've reviewed for this blog.

The question I always try to answer is whether a film set in the 18th century reflects that era's mind-set and sensibility. I give Kubrick an A+ on that. If I wanted to quibble, I'd question why he made heavy background use of a Schubert piece that postdates the era by some decades. But it does work thematically with its sense of plodding, inexorable forward motion. And Kubrick does include many period-specific pieces as well as wonderfully evocative Irish folk music, so all is forgiven.

Despite the lead actor, I recommend this film highly. Just make sure you have time to savor it, and don't expect a roller-coaster ride of wild action. Many of Barry Lyndon's delights are quiet ones.

Cry to Heaven

2009-02-14T17:41:00.006-05:00

Music is very important to my daily life. As I write the Tito Amato novels and short stories, I listen to opera and baroque-era instrumental works to create the proper mood. Away from the computer, my choices are more varied, but I'm always listening to something. Dance also formed a big part of my recreational life until arthritis got the better of me. While I consider myself musical, I'm certainly no performer on any instrument, including the human voice.

So where did I get the courage to set my mystery series in the musical world and feature a professional singer as my protagonist? Look no further than the book covers that accompany this posting--they represent different images of the same great novel. Cry to Heaven by Anne Rice.

The first edition of Cry to Heaven was released in 1982, before we'd ever heard of Lestat and company, the Mayfair Witches or Ramses the Damned. "Cry" is a standalone historical novel set in 18th-century Italy. It follows the fortunes of two men. One is Guido Maffeo, a peasant from Calabria who was sold to be castrated and made into a singer. Unfortunately, his voice coarsened with age and he became a maestro and composer instead of a performer. The other is Tonio Treschi, son of a highly placed Venetian nobleman who was also castrated and destined for the opera stage. The backstory on Tonio's surgery is complex and involves family secrets. I won't spoil your fun if you haven't read it. Let's just say Tonio's love of music is balanced by his lust for revenge.

While we're on lust, I'll also mention that Rice's novel is drenched in graphic sex scenes, both homo and heterosexual.

But the reason I treasure my copy of Cry to Heaven is that it first gave me the idea to blend Venice and the milieu of the castrati and early opera into a mystery series. Of course, I invented Tito, my own wronged castrato with his own family secrets, strictly from my imagination and plentiful research into the lives of actual singers. But it was Cry to Heaven that got me started.

Over my years as a mystery reader, I always thought an opera company would be a great place to set a novel. After all, opera is about the big things in life--love, jealousy, betrayal, revenge. That's a nice handful of motives for murder. Still, I was told that not enough readers would be interested in the "high-brow" setting. After I'd tried and discarded some other ideas for a mystery series, the continued popularity of Rice's book gave me the courage to do what I wanted all along. Even today, Cry to Heaven endures as something of a cult phenomenon--as I write this, the mass market paperback edition has a very respectable Amazon ranking of 22, 811.

So if you're still lacking a Valentine gift, rush out and buy Cry to Heaven for yourself or your loved one. At the foundation, it's an emotional story of love and loss that actually manages to end happily. I'll also wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day, most especially Anne Rice for writing a wonderful, enduring book. Tito would be nowhere without her.

Super Bowl XLIII Book Giveaway

2009-02-01T17:28:00.003-05:00

And other odds and ends that popped up during the mammoth ice storm of 2009.

First, I'm proud to announce that Robert Rosenwald, my publisher at Poisoned Pen Press, has partnered with the National Education Association and the NFL Players Association to donate 43,000 mystery books to Central Florida schools in need. While millions of fans awaited the big game, several Tampa schools had visits from Brian Griese and other players who read from classics like Cat in the Hat. Poisoned Pen Press' books, which are aimed at older readers, will surely score some reading touchdowns for the NEA's Read Across America celebration. My early reading experiences formed me as a writer without my even be aware of it at the time, so I'm thrilled that Poisoned Pen Press has taken this step.

For more on Rob and Poisoned Pen Press, visit the press' website:
http://www.poisonedpenpress.com

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During Magna cum Murder 2008, Ball State University's annual salute to the mystery genre, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Nancy Briggs Carlson. That session has made its way to You Tube. If I were smarter about this blogging business, you could watch it right here. Unfortunately, all I can suggest is go to You Tube and search Beverle Graves Myers.

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Mary Reed and Eric Mayer write the deeply researched and highly entertaining John the Eunuch series set in the court of the Byzantine Roman Empire. At Jean Henry Mead's Mysterious People blog, Mary gives some nuggets of wisdom about writing the historical mystery and markets for same. In a previous posting, the two are interviewed on the joys and pitfalls of husband and wife writing together. Interesting stuff!
http://mysteriouspeople.blogspot.com

Tito Amato Short Story

2009-01-25T10:13:00.004-05:00

I'm delighted--make that thrilled, excited, swinging from the chandelier--to announce that the first-ever short story featuring Tito Amato appears in the April 2009 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. In "A Cutting Wind," Tito fights two enemies: flood waters whipped up by the sirocco wind and Venice's determination to enjoy angel voices no matter what the cost to the boy singers.

The story behind the story: At some time during the process of writing the five completed books in the Baroque Mystery series, protagonist Tito Amato took on a life of his own. As I've often heard other authors explain, my character seems as real to me as members of my own family. I've suffered with Tito through betrayal, unjust accusation, and professional disasters; worried over his tendency to revel in the good life; and also tasted his joy as he embraced his musical career and found true love. One issue I had never explored was the surgery that created his stunningly beautiful voice.

In the mid-18th century, Tito was one of 4000 or so Italian boys who were castrated every year. A few were destined for church choirs, but most were meant to take a crack at the opera stage. The castrati were the divas of their time--think Mick Jagger, Madonna, and whoever is the latest American Idol winner all rolled into one. A successful career meant big money and a comfortable retirement in an age when life was tough for the common man. Some boys reportedly begged for the surgery and their chance at fame. Like Tito, most had the procedure forced on them by parents or musically-inclined patrons.

When I tried to imagine Tito's feelings on the matter, all he showed me was rage--bright red, boiling hot rage. I had this vision of him destroying the place where he was castrated, knocking the very walls down as he swung an iron poker until his arms grew too tired to continue. As I watched this unfold, a boy's choir of angelic soprano voices always sang hymns in the background. My task was to calm Tito's anger so that I could form a plotline that would tell his story. I decided to use the sirocco and its acqua alta to bring Tito face to face with the man who performed his operation. The result is "A Cutting Wind."

The April issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine will hit the bookstands soon. If you'd like to order a copy or sign up for a subscription, visit their website:
http://www.themysteryplace.com/ahmm

I heartily recommend the magazine, as well as its sister publication, Ellery Queen. I read both of these for the best in short mystery fiction long before I cracked the market.

For those who enjoy ebooks, Hitchcock is also available at eReader:
http://www.ereader.com/ereader/eBooks/eBook79792.htm?cache

And if you read "A Cutting Wind"--or even if you don't--please let me hear from you. As I work on more possible story ideas, I'd love to have comments on this important piece of Tito's personal history.

Ferdinando and Carolina

2009-01-18T10:55:00.005-05:00

Thanks to all the research the Tito Amato novels required, I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about 18th-century Italy. This film stretched my recall and understanding, so I can only imagine how the casual viewer would react to it. The Ferdinando of the title is King Ferdinand I of the House of Bourbon, King of the Two Sicilies, one of which was Naples. (Confusing, I know--don't ask). Carolina is the Archduchesse Maria Carolina, one of the mammoth brood that mamma Empress Maria Theresa of Austria married off for dynastic alliances. Carolina's more famous sister was Marie Antoinette.

Director Lina Wertmuller uses the plot device of King Ferdinand on his deathbed in 1825, recalling the high points of his youth many years earlier. It makes for a meandering film that veers between serious and satirical, but it does have its pleasurable moments. The drawbacks of absolute monarchy are well chronicled as we follow Ferdinand's misspent youth and lackluster governing.

He can hardly be blamed for it all. He became king at an early age when his father left Italy to assume the throne of Spain. The men we would today call his "handlers" deliberately encouraged hunting and whoring over education, thus the better to bolster their own power. Ferdinand's bad-boy ways are tellingly contrasted with the well-educated, humanistic Franz Joseph, brother to Carolina and later forward looking Emperor Joseph II of Austria.

Carolina's fate was much happier than her sister Antoinette's. Employing a mixture of sexuality, cunning, and strong personality, she became de facto ruler of Naples for some years. Her transition from pampered princess to powerful consort provides one of the more interesting subplots in the film. In comparison, her husband simply never grew up.

Other than the uneven soundtrack, the film's production values are excellent. Most of the scenes appear to be shot on the appropriate sites of royal palaces and manicured grounds. I drooled over the gorgeous pastel gowns of the women. On another note, the hunting scenes and gutting of dead animals may be a bit too realistic for some--they were for me.

And as an inveterate opera lover, I have to admit disappointment over one issue. The stupendous Neapolitan opera house, Teatro San Carlo, was inaugurated in 1737--the leading castrati appeared there nightly during the time period of the film. I was just sure we would get to see an opera house scene. But no, the only reference to music was when a teenage Ferdinand and his friends were teasing the boys at one of the music conservatories which Naples was famous for. It's remarked that "you get your balls cut off in there ... balls and voices are connected."

An even more obscure musical tie-in was the affair Ferdinand had with Sara Goudar. The Goudar brothers, and Sara, wife of Angelo, come up in many accounts of court life around Europe in the mid-18th century. Much like Casanova, the three lived by their wits and provided the shadowy pleasures of sex and gambling for their social betters. For some reason, Sara Goudar bucked the fashion for high male voices and was an outspoken critic of the castrati and the music they made. I didn't mind seeing her depicted as a conniving tart.

I recommend spending an evening with Ferdinando and Carolina only if you're wild about historical costume films or want a painless way to learn about some of the political and social issues of the time, otherwise it may be a long hour and a half.

Edgar Allan Poe Stamp

2009-01-04T11:01:00.003-05:00

Poe was a major influence on my desire to write mystery fiction, so I was delighted to hear that the U.S Postal Service is commemorating the 2ooth anniversary of his birth with a special stamp. The stamp will be unveiled at The Library of Virginia in Richmond on Friday, January 16. Poe was actually born in Boston on January 19, 1809 to a pair of itinerant actors. After his father abandoned the family and his mother died of consumption, he was taken in by a foster family who lived in Richmond, Virginia.

The stamp portrait depicts Poe as a youngish man, before alcohol, poverty and illness ravaged his face. Even so, his eyes stare out at the world with melancholy, and the portrait makes me think that he is searching for someone who can help him deal with his internal demons. Or maybe just someone to love him as he was never loved as a child.

I think the stamp's illustrator did a great job--hard to get that much emotion into such a tiny rectangle. His name is Michael J. Deas. He's done the portraits for several commemorative stamps, provided many book illustrations, and is perhaps best known for redesigning the Columbia Pictures "lady with the torch" that we see in the opening credits of so many films. Check out this link for some truly luminous renderings of famous people, current and historical:
http://www.michaeldeas.com

Getting back to Poe's influence on my writing, I first discovered his work in an old set of books on a beat-up bookshelf at my grandparents' house. I inherited both the bookcase and the books, which now reside on our third-floor landing. I went up to took a fresh look and was immediately transported back to age 10.

A precocious reader, I curled up in a big armchair and worked my way through all ten volumes. The poetry, too. Now, I'm amazed that Poe's ornate style held my attention. I admit I may have been bringing memories of B movies and Vincent Price to the experience. But there's no denying that Poe had a cunning way with a plotline. "The Purloined Letter," one of his stories featuring gentleman detective C. Auguste Dupin, was my favorite. The hiding-place-in-plain-sight was a stroke of genius and quickly became a standard of the genre. No wonder another author who had a way with short mystery fiction, Arthur Conan Doyle, called Poe "the supreme original short story writer of all time."

More lately, I had the pleasure of reading Daniel Stashower's The Beautiful Cigar Girl (Dutton, 2006. Can also be found in paperback). I know Dan from the Malice Domestic mystery conference where he served as one of the most skilful panel moderators I've ever worked with. His book digs into the factual crime that inspired Poe to write "The Mystery of Marie Roget". The true life murder occurred outside New York City in 1841 and involved 20-year-old Mary Rogers, a clerk in a tobacco shop. Despite a well-publicized investigation, the truth was never brought to light. Poe decided to move the locale to Paris so Dupin could take a crack at it. Dan has written a wonderfully researched account that I heartily recommend.

The Duchess

2008-12-28T11:17:00.004-05:00

This film had its theatrical release while I was writing like mad. I was anxious to see it, but because I feared the subject matter might tinker with my own 18th-century plotline, I forced myself to wait to until Her Deadly Mischief, the fifth Tito Amato mystery, was completed. I rented the DVD of The Duchess (2008, directed by Saul Dibb) last night and wasn't disappointed.

The story is based on the life of Lady Georgiana Spencer, who became the Duchess of Devonshire on her marriage to one of the most prominent peers in Great Britain. Yes, we're talking about that Spencer family. Diana, the former Princess of Wales, is a collateral descendant of Georgiana through her brother. The parallels are striking, if not outright eerie.

Georgiana married the older Duke as a naive girl of sixteen. She quickly found that he was emotionally cold and valued her worth on only two scores: absolute loyalty and her ability to produce a male heir. Over the lonely years, Georgiana turned herself into a national celebrity as a party hostess, fashion plate, and tireless political campaigner. In private, she dealt with her loveless marriage by turning to gambling and other risky behaviors. Although the film barely hints at it, she also had a significant eating disorder, often refusing food for days, then binging.

To the director's credit, the film lets the facts speak for themselves without making the Georgiana-Diana comparison take center stage. The Duchess is really the story of a woman's determination to stamp her own identity on the public and private roles that those in authority have laid out for her. Throughout, Georgiana struggles with internal demons as well as external. Crippled by her need to win the public's love and attention, she interacts with all levels of society in a free and easy way that scandalizes her contemporaries and speaks of her own emotional instability. Whether her demons sprang from the stress of her marriage or inherited tendencies, the film doesn't attempt to say.

Keira Knightly makes a beautiful clothes horse for the meticulously researched wigs and costumes, but I didn't find her emotional struggles terribly convincing--too much 21st-century pouting in fashion model mode. Ralph Fiennes gave a much more nuanced portrayal of the haughty duke. This character would be easy to play as rotten to the core, but Fiennes makes us remember that the man is a product of his times. He is not always happy about hoisting the standard of contemporary values, but he is not a man to challenge the system. He sees his duty and he does it, his sensitive wife be damned.

One telling moment: the duke wonders why women's dresses are so complicated. When Georgiana tries to explain that fashion is one of the few ways women have to express themselves, the duke is obviously puzzled as to why women feel the need to express themselves at all.

In a supporting role, Charlotte Rampling is scene-stealingly perfect as Georgiana's proud, practical mother. Likewise, Hayley Atwell as the luscious beauty who begins as Georgiana's friend and lover, moves into the duke's bed, and finally becomes his next duchess. Dominic Cooper seemed a bit callow and weak-willed as Charles Grey, the object of Georgiana's ill-fated fling. I kept asking myself--how did this man go on to become Prime Minister?

Factoid: This is the Charles Grey of Earl Grey tea fame! Who knew.

Overall, I enjoyed the film and recommend it for its true 18th-century sensibilty. Being an author myself, I have to mention that the film was largely based on a biography by Amanda Foreman entitled Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire.

More on the book and its author can be found at this link: http://www.amanda-foreman.com

Christmas in Venice

2008-12-21T09:49:00.005-05:00

Christmas in Venice can bring sunny Indian-summer days, cold winds from the Alps, or flooding that makes you think about building an ark. The only sure thing is the expectant bustle that ushers in the season. Festivities in Venice have traditionally been low key, but since an increasing number of tourists brave the uncertain weather to experience a Venetian Christmas, the city is offering more public celebrations. Elaborate nativity scenes are staged by numerous churches, and many neighborhoods decorate campi with Christmas trees and twinkling lights.

In Tito's day, he and his family would have heard church bells sounding at odd hours and hammering as booths were set up to sell special treats. Street peddlars would have been more in evidence than ever. The custom was to give three types of gifts on the day before Christmas: fish, mandorlato, and mustard. A wonderful supply of fish was always available at the Pescheria. The mustard and mandorlato were obtained from the stalls or shops.

We're not talking about a jar of yellow hot dog mustard here. The Christmas mustard of Venice is a savory conserve of mixed fruits flavored with dry mustard. As in the modern-day example pictured above, it was served with soft mascarpone cheese. Together the thick mustard and sweet cheese could be shoveled onto cracker-like biscuits.

Mandorlato is an unabashedly sweet treat--a candy made with egg whites and honey and filled with roasted almonds. It's a little like a meringue. The portion above has been formed into a star for the nativity.

These gifts would have been brought to Tito's house as friends and family joined him in a great dinner on Christmas Eve. But only fish and vegetables would have been consumed. Meat was forbidden for the "fast" leading up to the day of the nativity. Dinner, drink, and entertainment would have lasted until midnight Mass, which all attended upon pain of attending three Masses the next day if they stayed away. The actual day of Christmas was generally spent quietly, recovering from the night before with one's immediate family, perhaps boxing up leftovers to give to the beggars who made this their special day.

The day after Christmas would have seen Tito returning to work on the opera stage. The theaters which had been closed for the Christmas novena reopened and carnival gaiety once again exploded. Masking and pleasure would reign until Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of the Lenten season and another vacation for Tito.

To all my friends and readers--
Thanks for the great year. Merry Christmas! Buon Natale! I wish you a wonderful New Year overflowing with good books and good friends.

Tito and the Acqua Alta

2008-12-14T12:57:00.008-05:00

Acqua alta. High water.

The photo above came out of the December 1 flooding, the worst acqua alta to hit Venice in many years. By coincidence, December 1 was the submission date for the finished manuscript of my latest Tito Amato mystery. The chilled, soggy individual in the photo above is wading under the Procuratie Vecchie on the Piazza San Marco. In Her Deadly Mischief, I've located the office of the chief of Venice's 18th-century law force in this very building. As I was putting the finishing touches on the manuscript, present day Venetians who share Tito's fictional territory were awash in salt water from the lagoon.

Which handed me the perfect topic to ease back into blogging. Why didn't Tito need hip boots to get across the Piazza on rain-drenched autumn or winter days?

The answer involves several matters. Just about everyone knows that Venice is sinking--the disastrous flood of 1966 brought the resulting loss of architectural and artistic treasures to the world's notice. One small part of the problem is the simple compression of the soil beneath Venice. The city was built on 118 small, marshy islands threaded with canals. Wooden posts were driven into the ground and so tightly packed that an oxygen-free environment was created. Thus the posts are free from rot, but not from gravity. Over the centuries, the stone and masonry structures above ground have settled on their foundations.

From geologic studies, we've learned that Venice also has the bad luck to be sitting near the juncture of two of the earth's sliding plates. Recall learning about plate tectonics in science class? As the African plate slides ever so gradually under the Eurasian plate, it's taking Venice down with it.

But the by far the biggest contributor to acqua alta is the rising sea levels. Like it or not, the earth is warming up and the polar ice is melting. (This is not the place to argue over details. I tend to think that climate change is so complex, we may never understand the proportions of the causative factors.) One interesting study uses the paintings of an artist from Tito's time to prove that the tides have risen in the lagoon.

Caneletto is famous for his realistic outdoor scenes. Like several artists from the 17th and 18th centuries, he used a camera obscura to achieve his intense level of detail. In this technique, the artist sat in a darkened room or tent that admitted light through a pinhole. The light from the scene struck the back wall where it was reproduced up-side down. A mirror could be used to project a right-side-up image. Slightly later, a smaller, more portable version was developed.

Look closely at the photo of a detail of a Caneletto work above. On the foundation stones, you can actually make out the greenish scum line that marks high tide. In an elegant melding of art and science, the Archeo Project has compared Caneletto's almost photographic quality paintings to the remaining buildings of present day. They discovered that the lagoon tides have risen 80 centimeters (about 31 inches).

And that's the main reason Tito didn't need waders. In the mid-1700's, an acqua alta could be measured in inches. Instead of a thigh-high lake, the Piazza merely turned into a shallow reflecting mirror.

For more info on the Archeo Project, follow this link:
http://ec.europa.eu/reserach/press/2001/pr0510.en.html

First Opera in America?

2008-09-28T19:35:00.007-04:00

Before I attempt to answer the question, I'll bring you up to speed on the biggest wind storm to hit Louisville in umpteen years. Rewind to Sunday, two weeks ago. I was actually preparing to write this blog entry when I noticed tree branches waving back and forth. Flipped on the radio and heard we might get some wind from the remnants of Hurricane Ike. Like any good Louisvillian facing a weather event, I took off to the store for milk and bread (it's part of our genetic make-up). On my way back, limbs cracked, garbage cans sailed like paper airplanes, and cars were being flattened by 100-year-old trees. This continued for three nail-biting hours.

All wind. No rain. Eerie in the extreme.

When things calmed down, three quarters of the metro area was without power. It didn't help that the Ryder Cup was set to take place in Louisville that week and that many of our power trucks were already on their way to Texas. Long story short: my mother who lives a mile from the golf course had power within 24 hours. My neighborhood, on the other side of town, was without for over a week. Still scrambling to catch up, I'll do a shortened version of the blog I meant to do pre-Ike.

While working on the latest Tito Amato mystery, I began to wonder if my singer-sleuth could possibly visit the Americas, specifically, could he sing an opera in one of the British colonies which would become the United States? When did the first opera in America take place, anyway?

I discovered that, like so many things, it depends on definitions and how you frame the question. Charleston, South Carolina makes a claim for mounting the first opera on Feb. 18, 1735. Titled Flora, or Hob in the Well, this production was a ballad opera attributed to Colley Cibber.
Finding that Mr. Cibber was a Londoner who had turned his hand to acting, writing plays and poetry, and managing theaters, I doubted that he had composed the score. Indeed, I learned that a ballad opera was an English invention consisting of racy, spoken dialogue married to popular ballads and folk tunes that a lower class audience would immediately recognize. Plots often centered around servants or criminal characters. The Beggar's Opera of 1728 is probably the most widely recognized example.
This would never do for Tito. In fact, the ballad opera was conceived to counter and poke fun at the highly formal Italian operas which Tito starred in.

More research uncovered The Venetian Maskers by Filippo Traetta. This sounded more promising. Signor Traetta was born in Venice but fled to Boston after composing some hymns that criticized the rule of King Ferdinand IV of Naples. Unfortunately, Traetta didn't arrive until 1799, and the opera was never fully staged. His opera was the first composed in America. He also founded the first American music conservatory in Philadelphia, so grazie, Signor Traetta.

Since Tito was born in 1713-- even if his glorious voice lasted into his 60's--the first true Italian opera to be performed in America was way beyond his time. It was Rossini's The Barber of Seville, presented by a European troupe in 1825 New York. Of interest is the fact that the organizer and lead male singer was tenor Manuel Garcia.
Garcia was a Spaniard, originally from Seville, who became a friend of Rossini and sang the role of Count Almaviva in the first ever production in Naples. Today, Garcia is little known for his own exploits, but he gave the golden age of opera two of its greatest stars. His daughters were mezzo-sopranos Pauline Viardot and Maria Malibran.

Malibran

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

2008-08-31T09:56:00.006-04:00

Forget everything you think you know about Frankenstein. Watch this film as a late example of the gothic fiction craze that started with Horace Walpole's Castle of Otranto in 1764. His melodramatic thriller-chiller was the first novel to make use of the now overworked stock features of isolated mansions, hauntings, hereditary secrets, comely young women in peril, and all manner of things that go bump in the night. While the 18th-century public gobbled up the novels that followed in Walpole's footsteps, critics dismissed them as sensationalist drivel.

It took a woman author, Ann Radcliff, to gain some respect for the new genre. In Radcliff's The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), she began to develop the concept of the explained supernatural, in which apparently unearthly plot twists were eventually traced back to natural causes. That, and the high-minded nature of her heroines, were looked on with favor by readers and critics alike.
A few years passed, a new century turned, and the gothic novel had grown stale enough to be parodied by such august authors as Jane Austen (Northanger Abbey, 1818). Mary Shelley took a different tack. In response to a celebrated ghost story competition proposed by Romantic poet Lord Byron, she penned a tale of obvious horror in which the true terror resides unseen within men's souls.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994) as directed by Kenneth Branagh is a fairly faithful screen adaptation of the novel. It begins in 1794 (only coincidence that's the year of Udolpho's publication?) with a sea captain on a doomed voyage to find the North Pole encountering Victor Frankenstein who is pursuing the murderous creature he brought to life. The rest of the tale is narrated by Frankenstein and takes us back to the horrifying death of his mother in childbirth, his adolescent fascination with atmospheric and other scientific experiments, and his medical education at Ingoldstat University.

Throughout Frankenstein's quest to rescue mankind from inevitable death, Shelley plays with the notion of modern science marrying itself to the long-held philosophy of alchemy. These two oppositional ways of thinking dominated the scientific debates of the 18th century. Throughout the tale, Dr. Frankenstein overflows with an excess of passion, intelligence and creativity. The sensibility is the essence of baroque--it made me think of the opera seria that Tito sang. In addition to directing, Kenneth Branagh played Victor Frankenstein with a solemn, energetic frankness that made this larger-than-life character utterly believable.

I also have to say a few words about Robert De Niro as The Creature. He's never been my favorite actor, but De Niro brings such exquisite sensitivity to the role, especially in scenes where he draws near the world of men and contemplates his possible place in it, that we root for the misshapen being despite his monstrous actions.

Mary Shelley turned the gothic novel on its ear. While remaining true to the established features, she crafted a much deeper tale of morality and personal spirtuality. In case you haven't realized by now, I enjoyed the film very much. My only criticism is the overstylization of some of the sets, and that's just piffle. Highly recommended.

Tito and the Retired Psychiatrist

2008-08-24T11:08:00.007-04:00

I get a lot of questions related to my first career, psychiatry, and how it fits into my mystery writing. Here's a short FAQ.

You always wanted to be a mystery author. How did you end up in medical school?

I’ve always been fascinated by personal histories, especially the lives of people in distant times and places. I was drawn to history in college, not for names and dates or lists of battles or monarchs, but to learn what daily life was like for villagers who lived through the Black Plague or Parisians who struggled to survive the French Revolution. I thought I might become a professor of social and cultural history. When I graduated from the University of Louisville with a newly minted BA with Honors in History, I was disappointed to find that PhD historians were a dime a dozen and fighting for the few jobs available. Searching for a new direction, I remembered that I had always enjoyed psychology, especially studying the forces that lead people to behave as they do. I entered medical school with the intention of preparing myself for a career in psychiatry.

How has your psychiatry career influenced your writing?

I ended up practicing psychiatry in a public mental health clinic that treated people from cradle to grave. I had the privilege of accompanying patients through depression, psychotic breaks, and paralyzing anxiety attacks, as well as milder emotional problems engendered by the stress of living in today’s world. Destructive family relationships were a particular interest of mine. It’s no accident that Tito Amato, my singer-sleuth, has a host of relatives that bedevil him at every turn. His family was dysfunctional before the term was ever coined.

Most of my books also feature at least one character who suffers from what we would call a mental illness. Tito's troublesome sister, Grisella, shows symptoms of Tourette's Disorder, his other sister, Annetta, goes through a post-partum depression, and the "mad Marchesa" in Cruel Music actually has Alzheimer's Disease. Since historical accounts describe adolescent females with Anorexia and/or Bulimia I'd like to explore a character with an eating disorder. I'm just looking for the right plot.

Do you use psychology in creating all your characters?

My goal is to write books that immerse readers in Tito’s world--the Venetian Empire in the twilight years of its worldwide glory and power. Central to creating this world is peopling it with characters who are true products of their time. I write up a personal history for each of the major characters. Where were they born? Where did their parents stand on the ladder of Venetian society? How much education did they receive?

And then there are the universal hopes, needs, wishes and fears of all people. In my psychiatry practice, I saw many patients who committed violent acts. I noted that violence often sprang from fear: fear of being assaulted, fear of losing something of value, even fear of losing face. If you want to make a game of identifying the murderer in my books, look for characters who have a great deal to lose and few emotional resources for dealing with their loss.

Three Fall Treats for Book Lovers

2008-08-10T10:40:00.003-04:00

I've been closeted away, writing furiously in what looks like a vain attempt to finish the fifth Tito Amato novel for a September deadline, but I'm going to take a breather in October. Several breathers, actually. October is a busy time for book events, and I've been invited to take part in three of the best.

October 10-12/Nashville, Tennessee/Southern Festival of Books:

Humanities Tennessee puts on a smashing festival that includes over 200 authors representing every literary genre. The three-day event includes author readings and panels, music, children's activities and much more. I'll be speaking on a panel dedicated to mystery short stories, a topic dear to my heart. I'll be joined by moderator Alana White and fellow mystery authors Molly MacRae, Rick McMahan and Mark Orr. The time of the panel is still to be announced, so check the schedule at the festival's website: http://www.humanitiestennessee.org/festival.index.php

October 24-26/Munice, Indiana/Magna cum Murder:

This year will mark the fifteenth outing of the mystery festival described as "A house party for 300 of your closest friends." Program coordinator Jim Huang (of The Mystery Company, a charming, well-stocked mystery bookstore in Carmel, Indiana) always comes up with a unique program that makes this conference stand out. This year, we're all encouraged to read Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey to discuss in the One Conference, One Book events. Louise Penny will be author Guest of Honor. I always enjoy myself so much that I've made Magna the one annual conference that I attend no matter what. More info at their website: http://www.magnacummurder.com

November 15/Frankfort, Kentucky/Kentucky Book Fair:

This is another one of my frequent fall stops. The Kentucky Book Fair is a one-day celebration of the writing profession that introduces authors to the reading public and raises money for Kentucky libraries. Each year, thousands of people come from all over the state to troop through the Frankfort Convention Center viewing and buying books of every kind. While talking about my Tito books, I've run into old neighbors and met cousins I didn't even know I had. Fun!
The website: http://www.kybookfair.org

Tristram Shandy

2008-08-03T11:57:00.004-04:00

Has anyone ever actually read the complete novel? Official title, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne? I've skimmed parts and found it droll and amusing, which I think is what Sterne was going for several centuries ago. The movie, official title Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2006, directed by Michael Winterbottom), is definitely meant for laughs. I picked it up at the video rental because of the cover which shows a man in an 18th-century suit and powdered wig talking on a cell phone.

Here's the deal: it's a movie pretending to be a documentary about a film crew making a film adaptation of a sprawling, basically unfilmable 18th-century novel.

Stern's novel, which was published in multi-volume installments, is famous for its playful and lengthy digressions. It begins with Tristram's conception and goes through several volumes before arriving at his birth. The author wrote in a sort of stream-of-consciousness style years before the term was coined. The film uses a similar tone and structure, if I dare use that word in connection with such a meandering tale.

In between takes of the "movie," we see actors arguing about costumes and who appears taller onscreen; a director with budget woes; flirtations among the cast and crew; and much more. The two main actors, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, play several different characters with understated British humor. One of the funniest bits turns out to be a split-screen sequence where Gillian Anderson of X Files fame agrees to take part in the movie adaptation.

There's no sense in examining whether the movie reflects an 18th-century sensibility, because it's not trying, even in the scenes which are supposedly shot in Shandy's time. On one level, this movie gives us an interesting look at the inner workings of a film set and the egos that populate it. On another, it makes a philosophical statement. Much like the original novel's hapless hero, the film crew never quite gets around to doing what they've set out to do. Isn't that always the way? We make plans, then that rain-forest butterfly flaps its wings, new variables are created, and our lives change in ways we could never have foreseen.

Chaos theory--18th-century style.

It's worth a rent, folks.

To read the book online (good luck--pack a lunch), go to Google Books at http://book.google.com
For more on director Michael Winterbottom: http://www.senseofcinema.com/contents/director/05/winterbottom.html

Mad or Bad?

2008-07-27T10:53:00.005-04:00

I'm wearing my psychiatrist's hat today. Since I practiced for over ten years in a public mental health clinic and have a special interest in forensic psychiatry, I make myself available to various groups and email lists of mystery writers to answer questions about mental illness and murder. I've had a rash of questions on the subject lately, so here's the condensed version.

First, a truism that bears repeating: there is a negative correlation between murder and mental illness. Meaning all the recent, lurid news stories aside, most forms of mental illness do not predispose an individual to crimes of violence. Psychiatric patients, especially those living on the street, are far more likely to become murder victims than murderers.With an eye toward crafting believable characters in mystery fiction, I’ll briefly discuss two conditions that do occasionally lead to murder.

Schizophrenia is a serious mental disorder that causes psychotic thought processes. Patients suffer misperception of reality, idiosyncratic thinking, delusions and auditory hallucinations. Patients with the paranoid subtype of schizophrenia are likely to believe that an outside entity--the CIA, aliens from the planet Dalleck, people with green eyes, you name it-- is persecuting them and display a hostile, aggressive manner in response to anyone who fits in with their delusions. Bizarre, highly organized and deeply felt religious ideas accompanied by a sense of grandiosity may also be part of the picture. It’s easy to see how this type of thinking could lead to violence.

The soap opera version of schizophrenia as a “split personality” that allows a normally acting and appearing character to suddenly morph into a violent, evil twin is false and doesn’t belong in a realistically plotted mystery novel. The same can be said about the stereotype of the raving madman so often employed by the makers of slasher films. I encourage authors that want to write a mentally ill character to study the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association (better known as DSM-IV) for solid information on the signs and symptoms of the various psychiatric disorders.

The second disorder that can lead to murder is sexual sadism. Unlike the schizophrenic murderer, the sadist does not display psychotic thinking. As author Ann Rule demonstrated so graphically in her book about Ted Bundy (The Stranger Beside Me), these individuals generally appear perfectly normal, perhaps even charmingly attractive. The sexual sadist is also more motivated to elude detection than the schizophrenic, who is often so divorced from reality that he gives arrest little thought. Unfortunately, that trait makes the sadistic sex killer more likely to be a repeat offender.

Bundy

Of interest is the fact that the two most infamous sadistic murderers of our time, Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer, were unable to mount successful insanity defenses. Both were found guilty and sent to prison to await their fates. Bad, not mad. Criminal responsibility demands the presence of a guilty mind, or mens rea, when the act is committed. A psychiatric evaluation is requested if the court believes a person may have a mental disorder that prevented him from knowing what he was doing or appreciating the wrongfulness of the act, or made him unable to resist the impulse to do harm. Both these guys clearly knew what they were doing and showed knowlege of their guilt by hiding evidence of their acts.

Here are a couple of links for more on the subject;

Ann Rule: http://www.annrules.com

Good article on insanity defense: http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/criminal_mind/psychology/insanity/1.html

Language of the Fan

2008-07-20T15:32:00.005-04:00

It was the ultimate flirtation device. Like teenagers texting messages as they sit in class or prowl the mall, every lady of the 18th century had a method of communication right in her hand--her fan. The elegant fan above is probably made of hand-painted silk glued to ivory ribs, the property of a well-born or wealthy lady, but even her less fortunate sisters would have had a folding fans of paper and wood. And they used them for much more than cooling their cheeks.

In the Venice of my singer-sleuth, Tito Amato, where frivolity and pleasure ruled the day, there were many occasions where a subtle method of communication came in handy. In practiced hands, accompanied by a meaningful look, a fan could invite a relationship, warn of spousal suspicion or answer an unspoken question. The two ladies pictured below are but two examples frequently found in 18th-century portraiture. Both are touching their folded fans to their right cheeks, a gesture that meant an unequivocal Yes.

Here are some more possibilities:

Closed fan touching the left check: No
Twirling a closed fan in the right hand: I'm not interested
Twirling a closed fan in the left hand: We are being watched
Placing a closed fan against the left ear: I wish to be rid of you
Tapping a closed fan against the lips: I'd like to kiss you
Closed fan pointing to the heart: I love you
Moving the closed fan from hand to hand: I see you flirting with another
Opening the fan quickly: Be careful!
Snapping the fan shut: I am angry
Slowly fanning with an open fan: I am married
Open fan in right hand revealing the eyes only: follow me

And as the lovely lady in the painting below may be saying with her open fan held at rest: Wait for me

Why my sudden interest in fans? The Tito Amato mystery I'm currently writing involves the murder of a courtesan who falls to her death from a fourth-tier opera box right in the middle of one of Tito's impassioned arias. She was pushed, of course, and Tito locks gazes with her masked murderer before he flees. In the course of his investigation to uncover the killer's identity, Tito must match wits with several of Venice's most notorious ladies of pleasure, all of whom use the language of the fan with great aplomb and skill. Interestingly enough, the courtesans often carried fans painted with titillating scenes while the proper ladies' fans depicted flowers or mythological characters. As a famous singer, Tito might have even observed his own likeness painted on fans carried by his fervent admirers.

Let Joy Reign Supreme

2008-07-06T11:29:00.004-04:00

What fun to discover an 18th-century film that I didn't know existed! I was actually heading for the check-out counter at my local hard-to-find video rental (thank you Wild & Woolly, 1021 Bardstown Rd., Louisville, KY) with an Amazing Grace DVD when I spotted this one. Let Joy Reign Supreme, also known as Que la fete commence, is set in 1720 France, directed by Bernard Tavernier, and carries English subtitles.

Back when I was a college history major, we particularly dreaded the exams that asked for the causes of major events. No type of query demanded a more complex answer. What led up to the Civil War? What are the antecedents of the French Revolution? This film answers the last question in a far more entertaining way than any of my blue books ever did. Let Joy Reign Supreme focuses on Philippe d'Orleans, the regent of nine-year-old King Louis XV, and thus the most powerful man in France. On the one hand, he represents some of the best Enlightenment ideals, such as free public education and selling parcels of the wealthy church's land to benefit the country's struggling peasants. On the other hand, Philippe is known as a unrepentant libertine and example of the century's worst excesses in personal indulgence.

The far-reaching plot hinges around a political coup hatched by a small group of idealistic noblemen from the backwoods area of Bretagne. They have a great deal to be upset about. We see press gangs rounding up men and women for forced transportation to Nouvelle France (Louisiana); conniving churchmen who are atheists at heart but covet an arch-bishop's miter to bring them money and power; and the squandering of incalculable resources on the arisrocracy while the peasants die of overwork and starvation. A few years later, Louis XV, Phillipe's grown-up ward would famously observe, "Apres moi, le deluge." This beautifully realized film allows us to understand the hows and whys of the revolution that eventually flooded France in such a violent cataclysm.

The sensibilities of early 18th-century France are depicted in an authentic, no-holds barred manner. Secondary characters span the gamut of the social order, so we are treated to various points of view. I could quibble that the actor Phillipe Noiret plays the aristocratic Philippe d'Orleans with a bit too much of the casual 2oth century about him (the film was produced in 1975), but most of the other performances are utterly believable. And without being ostentatious enough to jerk you out of the story, the scenes and costumes create the perfect background for this tale that is set mainly in opulent interiors. I heartily recommend Let Joy Reign Supreme as both entertainment and history.

One footnote: Philippe II, duc d'Orleans gave his name to the city of New Orleans. Bet he would just love Bourbon Street.

Big News!!

2008-07-01T11:26:00.002-04:00

I'm thrilled to announce that one of my short stories has been nominated for a Macavity Award given by the members of Mystery Readers International. "Brimstone P.I." originally appeared in the May 2007 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and tells the story of Ray Heckler, a wise-cracking private investigator who died in 1948 and was damned to Hell for gambling and fornication. Satan has a case for Ray and ... well, you'll just have to read the story. AHMM has kindly put it up on their website and here's the link:
http://www.themysteryplace.com/ahmm/excerpts/excerpt4.aspx

Also, check back here for a review of a wonderful French film, Let Joy Reign Supreme, that I recently discovered. Set in the early 18th century, it makes you understand exactly why the French Revolution occurred. I'll get to it this Sunday.

Writing Music

2008-06-22T09:58:00.003-04:00

The latest Historical Novels Review (Issue 44, May 2008) features an article by Susanne Dunlap entitled "When Music is the Muse." Susanne, the author of Liszt's Kiss and Emilie's Voice, interviewed me and several other historical fiction authors who've found inspiration in music and musicians. More on Susanne and her work can be found at her website: http://www.emiliesvoice.com Since HNR isn't available on the web, I'll mention some of the high points in Susanne's article and add some thoughts of my own.

Writing about music presents certain challenges. How do you describe such an emphemeral art with words on a printed page? How do you bring performance art and the creative process behind it to life? Perhaps an even more basic question is why a writer would choose to focus on music in the first place. Susanne found that several of the authors, Stephanie Cowell (Marrying Mozart) and Rita Charbonnier (Mozart's Sister) were musicians who had formed a great love and affinity for Mozart's compositions, Stephanie as a singer and Rita as a pianist. The other two writers, Barbara Quick (Vivaldi's Virgins) and Laurel Corona (The Four Seasons) were not musically trained but recognized good story potential in Vivaldi's experience of teaching violin to young girls at Venice's Convent of the Pieta.

I'm squarely in the camp of those who aren't musically trained. I did have piano lessons as a girl, but they didn't take. My pitiful plonking on the keys and what I heard coming out of the stereo or radio, or in my few opportunities to hear live professional concerts, were so far apart that it didn't seem realistic to continue. But I never lost the love. I'm a passionate music lover. I always have music playing--right now I'm listening to AccuRadio's all-Mozart channel. And that's how I approach writing about music, from the listener's viewpoint. Just as I try to conjure up the sights, smells, and tactile sensations of Tito Amato's Venice, I attempt to make the music he sings a living, breathing entity that jumps right off the page. Here's an example from Painted Veil, in which Tito is listening and comparing himself to rival castrato, Francesco Florio:

He began with a few soft notes interspersed with frequent pauses, but how artfully those notes were sounded. When our ears had been ravished by the pathos of their limpid beauty, Florio soared up the scale, swelling each note to an amazing volume. Behind me a woman made a sound that was something between a scream and a sigh. I turned my gaze just in time to see several ladies swoon into the arms of their escorts ... I had been taught the same techniques, but Florio was performing them so much better than I had ever dreamed of doing. Get hold of yourself, Tito, I thought. Don't let jealousy get the upper hand. Listen and learn.

I think it's no accident that Mozart and Vivaldi are the subjects of the other novels mentioned by Dunlap--both composers were prolific artists who created some of the most beautiful music the world has ever heard. Their very success presents another challenge, that of writing the well-known historical character. As Dunlap put it, "...how to overcome the entrenched images and strong, emotional attachment readers have to a character they feel they already know." The writers solved this dilemma by making a family member, student or other peripheral character the point-of-view character. Thus the famous composers' personalities are unmasked in their actions and relationships as viewed by someone close to them.

I went a different way. I toyed with the idea of using Farinelli, the most celebrated of the 18th-century castrati, as my singer-sleuth, but I didn't want to be hemmed in by the events of his life. Though he is little known today, his professional career and his many years of providing soothing music for the mad king of Spain are well-documented. I also contemplated making a costumer or other peripheral theater figure my point-of-view character, but that option didn't suit me either. I was enthralled with baroque opera and the men who sang its heroes. I wanted to tell their story in the context of a historical mystery novel, so I created an entirely fictional character to carry the plot.

Susanne remarks that there are hundreds of stories regarding music and musicians waiting to be told. I agree and also believe that there are legions of willing readers who will pounce on these books once they are written.

Many thanks to Susanne Dunlap for allowing me to reference her article in this blog post.

The Latest

2008-06-16T17:08:00.004-04:00

The Iron Tongue of Midnight came out in March, but so much has happened since then, it seems more like a year. I'm getting lots of emails about the book, and it's great fun to see what people choose to comment about. The return of Tito's sister Grisella has stirred the most interest. Some readers feel sorry for her, given her struggle with Tourette's Disorder, but most seem to feel she got her just desserts. I'm surprised I've not received more comments about Alessandro's letters and his conversion to Islam. I sweated blood over developing the right style for Alessandro to write in, then spent many hours deciding how to work the letters into the narrative. I ended up writing them all out one after another so I wouldn't confuse Alessandro's voice with Tito's, then sprinkled them in where the plot seemed to require the information they contained.

I'm smack dab in the middle of writing the next Tito Amato mystery. It takes place two years after the events of The Iron Tongue of Midnight and sends Tito back to his base, the Teatro San Marco in Venice. He's singing onstage in a new opera when a woman tumbles head over heels from one of the topmost boxes. She turns out to be an infamous courtesan who was stabbed before she was pushed over the railing, and Tito is the only person in the theater who managed to get a glimpse of her killer. I see this as Tito and Liya's book. After I got him "married" to the love of his life in Cruel Music, I felt a little guilty sending him off to the countryside without her, so she has a lot to do in the new book. After they discover that the murder victim grew up in the ghetto and, like Liya, is an apostate Jew, it seems natural for Tito and Liya to team up on finding her killer.

Later this year, Tito will star in his first short story. I recently had word that Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine will publish "A Cutting Wind." I've always wanted to have Tito face the surgeon who castrated him as a boy, but couldn't work it into a book plot. Now that confrontation is at the center of a short story--very powerful and draining to write. Also in the works is a chapter on Research and Credibility that will be part of a new nonfiction volume on writing mysteries. More about that later when the details are finalized.

Finally, there's a new boy in my life. He's a beagle boy named Carlo that my husband and I adopted from the Humane Society several months ago. Yes, he's named after Carlo Broschi (stage name Farinelli), the greatest castrato singer of the 18th century and model for Tito Amato. He tempts me away from the computer with great regularity.

More Books Behind the Book

2008-05-30T09:43:00.007-04:00

One of the greatest joys of my writing life is discovering other author's books that get my creative juices flowing. This often happens when I'm scanning the history or biography shelves at my local library. I recently guest blogged about Georgina Weldon on Eric Mayer's Byzantine Blog. This Victorian whirlwind was famous for three things: a scandalous liaison with composer Charles Gounod, posing as an early "cover girl" for Pear's Soap, and keeping the English civil courts busy with lawsuits. I mined Georgina's life for the traits and emotions that drove her to often self-destructive behavior and included a lot of them in my fictitious character of Octavia Dolfini. In The Iron Tongue of Midnight, Octavia has taken a young German opera composer as a protege and lover. It's his opera she funds that involves Tito in murderous doings at a villa in the middle of nowhere.

The villa that provides the lush autumn backdrop for Tito's latest adventure was inspired by another book I stumbled across: Palladian Days by Sally Gable. With contributions from her husband Carl, Sally tells the story of restoring a Venetian country house and building a new life in Italy. The "house" is actually a villa designed by the famous Renaissance architect Andrea Palladio, one of a handful still standing. In Palladio's time, and Tito's as well, the Venetian Empire took in a vast arc of land in northern Italy. The Venetians called it Terrafirma to distinguish it from their island home and built elegant retreats that allowed them to escape the mosquito-ridden summers on the lagoon. The villas were also the centers of working farms that raised grapes, olives, grains, and other crops that contributed to Venice's wealth. The Villa Dolfini that Tito visits owes much of its layout to the Villa Rotunda at Vicenza and much of its spirit to the Villa Cornaro so lovingly described by Sally and Carl Gable. Find more information on the Gables and their villa here.

Here's one more inspiration for The Iron Tongue of Midnight, not a book, but a film. The first glimmerings of the concept of a country house mystery transposed to Italy occurred when I was watching Gosford Park, the 2001 movie directed by Robert B. Altman. As a young reader, I cut my teeth on classics featuring murder in English manor houses. From The Moonstone on through too many Agatha Christie titles to mention, I was hooked. A windswept moor, a body in the library, and a cast of eccentric characters made for hours of entertainment. Altman breathed new life into the classic genre with his film and I set out to do the same. If you've read "Iron Tongue," give me a holler and tell me what you thought. I love hearing from readers.

Perfume

2008-05-13T08:27:00.004-04:00

This is a toughie. I've never attempted to review a film I've liked less. Well, perhaps the Marie Antoinette mess with Kirsten Dunst, but you'll have to go back in the archives for that one.

Simply put Perfume (DreamWorks, 2006) is the story of a boy born to an uncaring mother. He's abused, shuttled from an orphanage that makes Oliver Twist's look like a day at the beach to apprenticeship with a leather tanner. People are cruel. He becomes cruel. He's a serial killer with a twist. The twist is that he has an incredibly developed sense of smell and has learned to distill the essential, defining fragrances of just about anything. To make the world's most tantalizingly beautiful smell, he must kill and distill the scents of thirteen virgins. Apprehended in the process, he uses his concoction to win the love of everyone who has gathered to see him hanged. He escapes but eventually choses death over being loved for his creation rather than himself.

The film is based on the literary novel by Patrick Suskind, which I also read. Director Tom Tykwer necessarily simplified some aspects of the novel's plot, but the story is basically the same. My main problem is that Suskind failed to make any of the characters likable--I just didn't care what happened to any of them. Also, it's difficult to analyze the story for its success in creating the spirit of the 18th-century because it could really be told in any time and place. The boy's ultra-keen sense of smell coupled with his own personal lack of odor is merely a symbol. Scent equals soul, and he clearly doesn't have one. Other deficits or differing abilities could have worked as well. However, given the focus on smell, 18th-century France was an inspired choice of setting. The Paris fish market provides a backdrop of incredible filth for his birth, and the lavender-encircled town of Grass where he finds his thirteenth virgin was actually a center of the French perfume industry.

The best part of preparing this review was researching the development of cosmetic fragrance over the centuries. Though pleasing scents had been used to cover the odors of unclean bodies, unwashed clothing, effects of disease, and poor sanitation for years, the use of personal fragrance reached a height in the court of Louis XIV and continued unabated through the Revolution. The courtiers' wigs, handkerchiefs, and even gloves were scented. Royal mistresses went through Eau de Cologne by the gallon. Which brings me to a personal revelation. My favorite scent is Bal a Versailles by Jean Deprez. To me, this flowery, elegant fragrance evokes the over-the-top 18th century much better than the film which purports to tell a story of perfume in that era. I can't afford to splash it on with as heavy a hand as Madame Pompadour would have, but every time I wear it, I feel enchanted.

Try the fragrance and skip the movie.

BAL A VERSAILLES

One Day in Venice

2008-05-01T09:26:00.000-04:00

If you had just one day in Venice, what would you do? What sights would you be sure to see? I'm asked that question so often, I decided to immortalize the answer on my blog.

Important first step: buy a map and a good travel book and make a leisurely study of both. I like the Eyewitness travel guide for its bird's eye view maps, but Fodor's is good, too. Become familiar with the layout of the city. Venice is a small place, roughly two miles long, and can be easily covered on foot if you're used to walking. That's really the best way to soak in the atmosphere. And don't worry about getting lost. There are yellow signs posted at almost every corner--look up at the walls of the buildings--that point the way to the major sites like the Piazza San Marco, the Rialto, and the Ferrovia (train station). The travel guides can supply the details of my general itinerary.

You'll probably start your day at the train station or the nearby Piazzale Roma where the buses pull in from the mainland. Before they're terribly crowded, take a vaporetto (water bus) down the Grand Canal to the Piazza San Marco. Wander around the huge square that has been the heart of Venice since time immemorial. You'll want to see the Basilica and the Doge's Palace for sure. Tours of each can be arranged in advance so you won't waste time standing in line. The Secret Itineraries Tour of the Doge's Palace is an especially good idea--I didn't take it and wish I had. We bought a Museo Pass which did allow us to go around the looooong line at the palace. About 18 euro. You can buy one at the Museo Correr on the opposite side of the Piazza. If hard-pressed to choose, I'd tour the Basilica over the palace.

Entrance to Basilico San Marco

Refresh yourself along the waterfront that overlooks the basin. If you can afford an overpriced meal, turn left at the columns of the Lion and the Crocodile and take a table at an outdoor cafe on the Riva degli Schiavoni. For free, turn right and rest on a bench in the leafy, little Giardini Reali.

When you've had your fill of the Piazza, pass under the clock tower near the Basilica and walk the narrow passages toward the Rialto--remember to follow the yellow signs even if they direct you down an alley that looks like it would lead nowhere. You'll pass lots of shops. I found the ones that carried masks or books or prints of Venice the most interesting. Once on the Rialto, cross to the top of the bridge and spend some time watching the gondolas on the canal below. Then explore the market area on the San Polo side. You're probably getting hungry by now. If you like seafood, there are several pleasant cafes just steps from the open-air fish market that's occupied that spot for over a thousand years.

Time to get moving. The next stop depends on your interests, and there are several things you could see on your way back to the train station or Piazzale Roma. My pick would be the Palazzo Mocenigo that depicts aristocratic living of the eighteenth century. The palazzo is beautifully decorated and contains a collection of historic dress, both male and female. If you like churches, Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari isn't far. It's filled with important paintings and sculpture. You could also cross the canal in a traghetto and tour the old Hebrew ghetto in the Cannaregio. If time allows, the Cannaregio neighborhood is a wonderful place to stroll and take in the homey side of Venice. You'll see children riding scooters along the canals, joggers, people returning from the market with pull carts, and young people sipping wine in outdoor cafes. If you're in a hurry, the walk from the ghetto to the train station took me about fifteen minutes.

Flowers in the ghetto

Outside the Frari

Your fuel for all this walking? Gelato! Everywhere you look, there's a little hole in the wall selling Venice's best bargain--creamy, smooth ice cream in a hundred flavors, only 1 euro per scoop.

Eunuchs, Sleuths and Otherwise

2008-04-21T18:23:00.000-04:00

Today I'm playing host to guest bloggers Mary Reed and Eric Mayer, the authors of the John the Eunuch mysteries set in sixth-century Constantinople. Seven for a Secret recently hit bookstore and library shelves. It's the latest installment of a series which Booklist calls "One of the best little known secrets." Mary and Eric's books and mine have two things in common: the same publisher, Poisoned Pen Press, and main characters who happen to be eunuchs. I asked Mary and Eric to make some comments about historical eunuchs who serve as inspiration for their work.

"How long will power remain in the hands of eunuchs, with effeminate minds, perverse by natural propensity, liable to think up all sorts of misfortunes and carry them out, beings of lustful minds, instruments of turpitude, guides in illicit acts and receptacles of vices." Writing during the 12th century, the poet and chronicler Constantine Manasses (quoted by Rodolphe Guilland in Eunuchs In The Byzantine Empire) summed up the feelings of many, then and now, towards eunuchs.

Which is, perhaps, why it has only been whispered that our mutual publisher Poisoned Pen Press could well change its name to The Eunuch Press, given the protagonists of two of its series are in that condition. Beverle's is one and our Lord Chamberlain mysteries, set in and around the sixth century Constantinople court of Emperor Justinian I, is the other.

A common difficulty we have experienced in talking about our work are misconceptions about the nature of eunuchs and the role they have played throughout history and indeed continue to play to this day. Eunuchs have been an important part of many cultures, and not all eunuchs are the stereotypical simpering, treacherous creatures intent on acquiring wealth by any and all means, including corruption, bribery, and fraud.

John and Tito's kindred have been the servants of royal households and held high administrative and military posts in cultures ranging from Rome to China for centuries. Indeed, it is probably only since the end of the British Raj that eunuchs have ceased to be found in the courts of maharajahs. Even so, eunuchs are still to be found in India, often forming their own families to work as dancers and singers and as bringers of good luck or bad, depending on how well they are rewarded to go away when they show up at a wedding or similar family celebration. Then too, Beverle's Tito is among those whose international fame as ethereal-voiced singers riveted the l8th century.

Eunuchs of the Byzantine period were, like the rest of humanity, a mixed lot. More than a century before the time of Justinian the eunuch consul Eutropius became notorious for his power over the emperor Arcadius. When his vice, cruelty, and greed finally earned him too many enemies, he took refuge in the Great Church at Constantinople and was protected, for a time, by St John Chrysostom, who later used the consul's downfall as a
subject for his writings. Alas, since Poisoned Pen Press had not yet been founded, rather than a mystery Chrysostom had to write a homily which takes as its theme "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."

Justinian I's predecessor, his uncle Justin, ascended to the throne from his position as Captain of the Palace Guards thanks to the unwitting assistance of another powerful and ambitious eunuch. Amantius, the Lord Chamberlain, bribed Justin to support Amantius' hand-picked choice for the emperorship. Justin, however, used the payment to buy support for himself, and then had Amantius and his protege put to death.

Justinian I was even better served by his "real" (for those who believe history rather than mystery novels) Lord Chamberlain Narses. Not only did Narses assist in quelling the Nika riots during which Justinian was nearly dethroned, he also did several stints as a general, helping to reconquer Italy when he was 75. Eunuchs made up a large percentage of the administration in the Byzantine Empire. And many other eunuchs were affiliated with the church, including more than one Patriarch.

More recently, it is only about a decade since the death in Beijing of Sun Yaoting, the last eunuch of the Chinese imperial court. He was in his early 90s and had undergone the operation only a few months before the fall of the Manchu Dynasty in 1911. The deposed and last emperor, Pu-Yi, continued to live in the Forbidden City palace complex and Mr. Sun remained his servant for some time.

Chinese eunuchs preserved that which they had lost for burial with them, believing that in the afterlife this custom would enable them to become whole again. Sadly, Mr. Sun could not anticipate this reunion for during the Cultural Revolution, his family destroyed what were called his "precious" for fear of punishment if the remains were found.

It is true that we tend to hear more about stereotypically evil eunuchs than about good eunuchs but that might be because evil is often more interesting. (How interesting would mysteries be without murders?) In fact, for centuries eunuchs have also been associated with heaven. In the later periods of the Byzantine Empire the heavenly court found an earthbound reflection in the imperial court. The eunuchs who surrounded the emperor—who was considered God's representative—with their brilliant white clothing, and glowing beardless faces served as the equivalent of angels. And it is no secret that the ethereal voices of castrato singers have often been likened to the voices of angels.

Now there's a stereotype we and our publisher can live with.

Jefferson in Paris

2008-04-15T10:31:00.000-04:00

I'll get the details out of the way first. This turkey is a Merchant-Ivory film released by Touchstone in 1995. I generally enjoy films from the Merchant-Ivory collaboration, especially A Room with a View and Maurice, so I call Jefferson in Paris a "turkey" with great sadness.

My major problem with the film is that it didn't lead me in a clear direction. It veered down paths that pointed to Jefferson's oddly close, not to say stifling, relationship with his daughter Patsy; his on again-off again affair with an Anglo-Italian wife of a famous British painter; and his much deeper affair with his 15-year-old slave Sally Hemmings. But it got hopelessly lost before achieving a satisfying resolution. The sluggish plot also meandered around freedom of religion, which Jefferson espoused but did not grant his own family, and the angers and frustrations of the hungry French populace that would soon lead to revolution.

As always, my question in reviewing films set in the 18th-century is: Does the script and production accurately reflect the spirit of the age? I have to give Jefferson in Paris a thumb's up on this, but the material was presented in such a dry, tedious way that you might as well be reading the dullest textbook ever written. In fiction writing, we call such tiresome attempts to inform the reader "info dumps."

On to the good part. Yes, there was one very enjoyable scene in which Jefferson returned to Paris from an extended business trip to the Hague and hurried to reunite with his lady love at the opera. Of course, I was trying to ignore the lead actors and focus on the stage and the theater. The opera was Dardanus by Antonio Sacchini. The French never embraced Italian castrati like the rest of Europe, so the title role was sung by a tenor. (Les Arts Florrisants is credited as providing the music, but I couldn't discover the name of the individual singer.) In a gesture recalling the intense popularity of all opera singers at the time, a woman rushed toward the stage and swooned, overcome with delight. The stage mechanisms were also spot on. In the background, a series of cylinders covered with blue and silver fabric were spinning to give the effect of ocean waves. From my research for my Tito mysteries, I know there were burly stage hands turning large winches to make that happen. I also enjoyed seeing the cloud machines and the flying platform that delivered Dardanus to the stage.

One last word. Nick Nolte as Thomas Jefferson? I loved the man in Down and Out in Beverly Hills, but Nolte as Jefferson? What were they thinking?

Venice V

2008-03-31T15:38:00.000-04:00

In all my talk about my research trip to Venice, I haven't mentioned one of the highlights of the entire adventure. Food! How could I have been so remiss? My husband and I ate mainly in trattoria style restaurants--family dining. This was a budget trip, after all. In general, the food was expertly prepared and very fresh. Especially the vegetables and salads. The lettuce was so crisp you would think it was grown right outside the kitchen door and picked only after the order had been handed to the chef. I suspect that a lack of preserving chemicals applied to the produce has something to do with the taste.

Our best meal overall was consumed on the island of Murano. We'd spent hours touring the glass museum and were hungry as two bears. A modest trattoria that was a stone's throw from the door of the museum came to our rescue. We wanted something filling and fast, so we ordered salad, bread, and pasta with the red wine della casa. So simple, but so good. After the crisp salads and warm bread that practically melted on our tongues, my Tagliolini con Funghi was absolute perfection. My husband raved about his spaghetti with meat sauce.

The wine was also a treat. At all the trattorias, for a bargain price of only several Euro we drank a half liter of wine that tasted like $40.00 a bottle. Again, the lack of chemicals. It was explained that the house wines had come from the Veneto and were not required to contain the preservation products that change the taste of the wine exported to America. Unfortunately, I can't recall the name of this jewel of a restaurant. [Note to self--next time more notes, more photos] If you turn right when leaving the glass museum and keep the canal on your left, it's the first restaurant, not too far past a little drug store/tobacco shop.

The other highlight was the fish restaurant that sat right beside the ancient fish market. We arrived at the market when the fishermen were packing up and gulls were flocking in to filch their leavings. The blackened roof and gothic arches made us think the open-sided building had been sitting there near the Grand Canal for hundreds of years. In fact, we learned that the structure was built in 1917, but the market itself had been in business for nearly 1000 years. We decided we had to have a meal of fish on this site. At least I did, my husband is not a fish fan, so he stuck to pasta. I ordered a sampler plate that featured typical Venetian delicacies of the sea: smooth-tasting salt cod, a baby octopus no bigger than my fist, mussels, and sweet and sour sardines that seemed to have no relation to the canned variety. Again, freshness and skilled preparation were the keys. Our meal was enlivened by a rogue pigeon that had wandered through the bar and several swinging doors to trot around the floor of the main dining room. He acted as if he owned the place--a not uncommon sight, we found.

I'll have to save more food stories for another posting. I can't forget the gelato, the cheesecake, the tiramisu. Do we see a pattern developing here?

The Iron Tongue of Midnight

2008-03-22T15:21:00.000-04:00

During the past month, I've survived a bad bout of the flu, the Left Coast Crime mystery con, a sprained wrist, and the release of my latest book, The Iron Tongue of Midnight. Time to take a breath and take stock.

The Iron Tongue of Midnight is the fourth in the series that tells the story of Tito Amato, an 18th-century castrato singer who also has a talent for sleuthing. I changed my writing routine in several ways with this one. For the first time, I set out to write a predetermined type of story. I've always loved classic country house mysteries--the secluded manor, the body in the library, a group of eccentric suspects, an amateur sleuth who must solve the mystery or else. I began brainstorming how I could involve Tito in such a case and came up with the idea of a mysterious invitation to rehearse a new opera at a villa on the Venetian mainland. The usual procedure was for singers to learn their parts in rehearsal rooms or at the theater, but with one socially ambitious merchant's wife and one German composer who was willing to do practically anything to have his opera debut in Venice, I thought gathering singers at a villa could work. Of course, bodies start dropping like flies as soon as Tito and Gussie arrive. Coming up with the idea that the high constable, the only local law, would be away on an extended boar hunt was gravy.

The second departure from my usual way of writing was using letters as a device to bring in a subplot. Epistolary novels have always fascinated me--I was glued to The Moonstone when it was assigned for a high school English class. This type of material also has the added benefit of stretching roots back to Tito's time. Ever seen the movie Dangerous Liaisons? The original novel by Choderlos de Laclos was told entirely in letter format. I thought it was time to bring Tito's sister Grisella back, but her last port of call had been Constantinople. It was highly unlikely that a European opera singer would be touring the Ottoman Empire, but Tito's merchant brother, Alessandro, could easily go there. I considered multiple viewpoints with action taking place in both the villa and Constantinople, but it seemed essential that Tito be apprised of Alessandro's efforts to trace their sister. Letters from Alessandro to Tito were the only way to go, even though working them seamlessly into the main narrative had me tearing my hair.

Receiving the finished copies of the book you sent off in manuscript form is always a kick. The book you wrote a year or so ago suddenly comes to life with a beautiful slick cover jacket and pages of professional type. I'm particularly proud of this one. With The Iron Tongue of Midnight, I set myself some difficult challenges and rose to meet them.

Moliere

2008-02-13T16:34:00.000-05:00

This review drops back about fifty years from my usual 18th-century focus. I could make a logical case for including this review with my others: Moliere, the subject of the film, was a forward looking playwright. Being intimately acquainted with the excesses of the French aristocracy and the empty hypocrisy of the established church, he wouldn't have been terribly surprised at the revolutionary developments of the 18th-century and may have even contributed to the mind-set that brought them about. But that's a stretch. Actually, I'll just cheerfully admit that I found Moliere (Sony, 2007) such a wonderfully entertaining film I couldn't resist sharing some thoughts about it.

***
Director Laurent Tirard brings us a farce about a playwright who practically perfected the genre. But the film is more than funny business. Within a convoluted plot stuffed with false identities, masquerades, and secret love affairs, Moliere finds the inspiration to write his famous comedies that explore the full range of the human spirit. At first, he dismisses comedy. With its reliance on stock characters and gestures, he sees it as a poor cousin to tragedy, the only authentic theater.

***

Unfortunately, tragedies don't pay the bills. Moliere finds himself imprisoned for his failing troupe's debts, and must accept help from Jourdain, a wealthy merchant who wants him to move into his chateau and write letters and plays that will capture the heart of young, aristocratic widow. The only catch is that Moliere must pass himself off as a priest hired to tutor Jourdain's young daughter, all the better to deflect the suspicions of Jourdain's wife. While his rescuer pursues the dancing, art and fencing lessons that he believes will endear him to aristocratic society, Moliere comes to admire Jourdain's elegant, wise, and beautiful wife. She becomes his muse, as well as his mistress, and encourages him to invent a new type of comedy.

***

Romain Duris plays Moliere with just the right balance of mischief and longing. Even as he smiles and flirts, we see his dark eyes observing all the human foibles that will later appear in his plays. Laura Morante is also excellent as Madame Jourdain. I was surprised to find out that she is an Italian actress; her French is spot-on (the fim is subtitled in English). The absolute stand-out performance, however, is Fabrice Luchini as Jourdain. This character could be simply ridiculous: an ambitious social-climber who fawns on those who laugh at him behind is back. Luchini gives him complexity, and the script allows him to grow and change even as his heart is broken.

***
I've done so much research on the 18th-century that I feel comfortable commenting about a film's success in recreating the sensibilty of that period. I'm not nearly as up to speed on the previous century, but I did notice several obvious, surely deliberate, anachronisms. At one point, Madame Jourdain asks Moliere, "What planet do you come from?" Later, a character mentions that cheap labor can be had in Spain, and another says, "What next, China?" Both instances jarred me and seemed like cheap attempts at humor that didn't belong in this period film. Otherwise, I heartily recommend Moliere. Watch it on a night you have plenty of time. It's two hours long, and if you have the DVD, you'll want to explore the special features.

Venice IV

2008-01-22T13:21:00.000-05:00

It wasn't Tito singing down front in the glorious hall. Since it was a baritone, I couldn't even close my eyes and make-believe I was listening to Tito. But this moment was the high-point of my research trip to Venice. My husband and I were in the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro listening to I Musici Veneziani in concert. The baritone was Nico Mamone singing "Il balen del suo sorriso" from Verdi's Il Trovatore, always one of my favorite arias and often played on my iPod. Despite giving the same concert several times a week, mostly to tourists I'd suppose, the entire company was full of heart and obviously having great fun with their performance. They certainly made our evening. We were so enchanted we hated to leave the 400-year-old building, even with many other delights awaiting us.

That operatic concert wasn't our only foray into Venice's theatrical world. Our first full day in Venice, we headed for the museum at the Casa di Carlo Goldoni. This playwright was born in Venice, and his house now contains beautifully costumed puppets from an 18th-century marionette show and exhibits that cover other forms of entertainment. The Goldoni house is on the Museum Pass, which I heartily advise for anyone who wants to study life in the 18th-century. We also tried to see as many of Venice's theaters as possible. In Tito's time, there were about fifteen theaters, half mounting plays and the other half opera. That doesn't count all the small, private stages in aristocratic palazzi or temporary theaters built for Carnevale or some other festival. On our walks, my husband and I saw the Teatro Malibran (below) and the Teatro Goldoni almost every day. These theaters went by other names in the 18th-century, but just to know that they were standing when Tito was a reigning prince of the stage made me tear up each time we passed.

The most amazing theater was, of course, La Fenice. Originally opened in 1792, it has been rebuilt several times because of disastrous fires. Looking at it's pristine, period perfect, gold and turquoise interior, it was hard to believe that the last fire was only ten years or so ago. We toured the lobby; the corridors, one of which held a large model of the theater built by its original designer; the boxes; and some concert and rehearsal rooms. My one great disappointment was that the tour did not include the backstage area. I was kicking myself for not at least trying to pre-arrange a more private tour that would help me visualize Tito's working environs. Ah well, a good excuse to return.

Readers sometimes ask if La Fenice is the theater described in my novels. Given Tito's dates (born 1713, professional debut 1731) and the founding of Venice's most famous opera house (1792), it is obviously impossible. The Teatro San Marco where Tito had his greatest triumphs never existed. The needs of the plot of Interrupted Aria drove its creation. The owner of the Teatro San Stefano (which became the San Marco when it was taken over by the Doge's government in Painted Veil) was a thorough villain. I refused to hang his crimes on a real historical person, so I created a fictitious opera house instead of using one of the real ones.

Venice III

2008-01-10T09:23:00.000-05:00

Yes, I made it to Venice. Returned home with my back giving me fits and an Italian virus that ran rampant through the whole family. The deadline for getting the finished manuscript of The Iron Tongue of Midnight to the publisher has also kept me from tending this blog, but I'm back now and bursting with news.

Tito has a new house!

The first thing my husband and I did after getting settled in our hotel was stroll down the Lista di Spanga and cross the Ponte della Guglie to enter Tito's neighborhood. Far from the Rialto and even farther from the grand Piazza, this is where Venetians go about the everyday business of grocery shopping, walking the dog, mailing a package, and relaxing with an espresso or an ombra (literally shadow, but in Venice, a glass of wine). We started out in mid-afternoon and walked for hours.

Many children in brightly colored jackets passed us in groups of two and three, on their way home from school. Like in America, they all carried full backpacks straining at their shoulders. You wouldn't think they could find places to play in the narrow alleys between buildings and crowded pavements bordering the canals, but children are inventive. We saw girls and boys dribbling soccer balls everywhere, small children riding bikes or tricycles that they dismounted to cross bridges, and at the end of one dim calle, an American-style basketball goal with the backboard painted red, white and blue.

Night came on us gradually. The fruit and vegetable sellers packed up and rolled down the sides of their stalls. Young people congregated at cafes to laugh with friends and enjoy the warm evening around outdoor tables. We were tired and hungry, but couldn't make ourselves stop walking. Around every turn, there was something interesting or beautiful that kept us going. In the depths of the quiet Cannaregio, we spotted a perfect house for an up and coming singer who needed more space for his growing family, but didn't want to leave the neighborhood he'd grown up in. We returned the next day to take the photo above.

This house struck me because, unlike most of the crowded-together buildings in the Cannaregio, it is set apart. It also has its own steps from the canal. I can just see Tito's gondola drawing up to that landing in the middle of the night, carrying him home from another triumph at the opera house. As I write the next novel in the Baroque Mystery series, its now 1742. Tito has acquired a wife and an adopted son. He's a much sought-after star, able to command large fees for appearing in an opera. His wealth couldn't match the purses of the nobility who had splendid palaces on the Grand Canal, but I believe he could afford this lovely dwelling. So, in my fictitious world, he buys it and moves from the smaller house on the Campo dei Polli, which will now belong exclusively to Gussie and Annetta. If only all real estate transactions could be accomplished so easily!

I'll close with a photo that most tourists wouldn't bother with. It's special to me because I had envisioned these mossy steps when I first began to contemplate doing a book set in Venice, before I'd done much research at all, long before I'd seen the city for myself. Yet here they are, looking exactly as I imagined they would.

Tito and the Louisville Free Public Library

2007-10-11T14:19:00.000-04:00

My community is locked in a debate over whether to create a new tax to support and improve the city's public library system. We'll be able to vote on the measure on November 6, 2007. Intense letters to the editor and radio talk show callers are weighing in with pros and cons. It's all set me thinking about what the library means to me.

***

Above all, there would be no Tito Amato if it weren't for the library. I'm quite sure that I wouldn't have turned into a professional writer if my mother hadn't dragged me up the stone staircase of the Crescent Hill branch. It's not that I didn't want to read, it's just that legs were short and those steps seemed to go on and on forever. Since then, I've returned to that library or the branch nearer my current home on a weekly basis. I've borrowed and read literally thousands of books and each one has contributed to making me the writer I am today.

***

I'll never forget sneaking past the tall, oak check-out desk and creeping into the adult section. All of nine years old, I'd grown bored with the books on the children's side. Someone must have told me I wasn't ready for the books without pictures, but I knew I was. I grabbed a volume with a bright red spine and cover art that reminded me of the Western TV shows that were so popular at the time. It turned out to be a tale of Indian raids on early settlers in the Appalachians. That book, whose title escapes me, turned me on to the delights of losing myself in other times and places. I was an escapist reader from day one. No wonder I write the same thing.

***

A list of books that have provided at least a crumb of inspiration for the Tito Amato mysteries would fill a book of their own: All the greats of mystery's golden age, starting with my favorite, The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers.

David Copperfield--did anyone catch the resemblance of Cruel Music's Abate Rossobelli to Uriah Heep? The Black Rose by Thomas B. Costain--I admit to being more voracious than discriminating back then. The Scarlet Pimpernel--hey, a pattern is forming. More recently, any historical mystery by Bruce Alexander, Steven Saylor, or David Liss. The last library book that I fell in love with was The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield I can only hope that a smidgeon of its elegant, atmospheric suspense will find its way into Tito's next adventure.

***

Will I be voting yes for the new library taxing district? You bet!

Venice II

2007-10-02T12:12:00.000-04:00

My trip to Venice is drawing closer. In a few weeks I'll be treading the same pavements and waking up to the same church bells that Tito did. In all the excitement, I'm trying to remember that this is a research trip and plan accordingly. The fifth Tito Amato mystery will involve a family of glass makers on the island of Murano, as well as Liya's efforts to reconcile with her family in the Ghetto. In addition to the usual tourist destinations of the Doge's Palace and the Basilica San Marco, here are a few special things I have lined up:

Europe's first Jewish Ghetto was created on the site of an old cannon foundry, or geto. It's still there, happily no longer behind locked gates. I'll be touring the Museo Ebraica, three surviving synagogues, and wandering the cramped alleys around the Campo Ghetto Nuovo. Pincas Del'Vecchio's shop burned down in Painted Veil, so I'll have to find that kind and pleasant man an especially nice place to sell his second-hand garments.

Tito also needs a new home. After the events in The Iron Tongue of Midnight (due out March 2008), the house on the fictitious Campo dei Polli became too small for Tito and Gussie's growing families. My hotel is in the Cannaregio, so I'll have plenty of opportunity to search that domestic quarter for a likely house for Tito, Liya, and Titolino.

The house of Tito's contemporary, playwright Carlo Goldoni, is in the San Polo district. It contains a puppet theater that once played in the Palazzo Grimani, a theatrical archive, and a museum dedicated to Goldoni's life. This will be one of my first stops.

The Palazzo Mocenigo is a must-see. It houses a museum of textiles and costumes with surviving 18th-century clothing on display and provides a fascinating glimpse into how the nobility of the 18th-century lived.

The Ca'Rezzonico is also a wonderful resource for studying furniture, interior design, and objets d'art from Tito's era.

La Fenice. Venice's rebuilt, world-famous opera house. Need I say more?

Murano. A short vaporetto ride will take me to the island of glass makers. For centuries, Venice held a monopoly on the manufacture of mirrors and beautiful glassware. So intent on preserving the trade secrets, the Republic branded any glass masters leaving Venice as traitors and hunted them down to deliver punishment. I'll tour the Museo del Vetro and several glass factories.

Finally, I'm very excited about seeing the naval museum near the Arsenale. Tito's brother Alessandro is a merchant seaman. Though The Iron Tongue of Midnight left him happily settled in Constantinople, who knows where he'll get to next. I'd love to have Tito and Alessandro take a trip together, but first I need to get up to speed on 18th-century sailing vessels.

Ridicule

2007-08-31T20:46:00.000-04:00

In 1783 France, Louis XVI was king, but wit ruled. Ridicule (Miramax, 1996) introduces us to a society where "vices are without consequence, but ridicule can kill."

Ponceluden de Malavoy, a young marquis whose estate in the Dombes seems to consist of marshes, mosquitoes, and perpetually ill peasants, draws up plans to drain his swamps. Unfortunately, he lacks the capital for the project. Brimming with hope and naivety, he sets off for the court of Versailles to petition King Louis for the needed funds. On the way, he is beaten and robbed. Befriended by the Marquis de Bellegarde, an aristocratic physician, Ponceluden begins to learn how to use his agile tongue to open doors at court. At the same time he becomes enamoured of Mathilde, Bellegarde's daughter.

Mathilde is one of the more interesting characters in the film. She presents a side of the 18th-century that is rarely depicted in costume dramas that usually focus on aristocrats or artists. Bellegarde has raised his daughter according to the tenets of the philosopher Rosseau, allowing her to develop as a child of nature, unfettered and free to pursue any interest she choses. Mathilde's abiding passion is scientific experiment, especially underwater diving. She has fabricated a helmeted diving suit, complete with a hose connected to an air pump. (This invention at first struck me as too early and out-of-period, but a little research revealed that diving suits really do go back to the 18th-century.) Mathilde is beautiful, and the fact that she uses her intelligence to invent useful items rather than to wound courtiers with rapier sharp wit isn't lost on Ponceluden.

Once recovered, Ponceluden launches into his quest with a vengeance but finds the court even more corrupt than he anticipated. He is assured that the only path to the King's ear travels straight through the bedroom of Madame de Blayac, a wealthy and entrancing widow. Spurred by his peasant's plight, Ponceluden plays de Blayac's game, even though it means losing Mathilde. Cutting epigrams and other displays of wit are exchanged at a succession of dinners, balls, and promenades, each more spectacularly filmed and costumed than the next. Eventually, Ponceluden learns the lesson that honest toil will take him farther than empty, but clever words. He reunites with Mathilde, and a postscript informs us that they returned to the Dombes to drain the swamp themselves and that they also managed to survive the violence of the Revolution.

Ridicule is an entertaining film, of particular interest because it intersects several slices of pre-Revolutionary French society in a creative, but credible way. You may have to search for it--I rented it from a shop that specializes in hard-to-find and foreign fims--but it's worth going out of your way for.

Writing the Male Point of View

2007-08-23T10:47:00.000-04:00

When I started this Cruel Music blog, I didn't intend to discuss the craft of writing. A good part of each day is devoted to wrangling words and sentences into coherent stories, so I wanted this blog to be a place where I could spout off about everything on my mind except what I actually do all day. But recently, fellow author Suzanne Adair started a topic on our Sisters in Crime email list that got me thinking.

I write in first person from a male point of view. How do I, as a female, manage to make Tito Amato a believable character? Especially to male readers.

I confess I plunged into writing mysteries without much preparation in the actual craft. I was bursting to tell a story and simply put pen to paper. (Yes, I started my writing career in longhand on yellow legal pads, though now I couldn't do without my computer.) Along the way, I immersed myself in history books, biographies of musicians, 18th-century memoirs, and other resource materials that helped me get the background details just right, but I don't recall studying any texts about how to write. Probably a good thing. If I'd known about all the pitfalls that await the novice, I might have been persuaded to set my pen aside before I got very far.

My protagonist is much unlike me, at least on the surface. Not only is Tito a man, he's Italian, younger than me by several decades, and lives in a pre-industrial era. He's also an incredibly talented singer where I can't keep on pitch for two measures. Somehow I make his dialogue and narrative voice sound authentic as I write in English that is accessible to the twenty-first century reader. I didn't plan how I would accomplish this feat, I just did it. Thinking back, I was simply following in the footsteps of the great mystery writers of the past.

I cut my mystery-reading teeth on Golden Age writers like Christie and Sayers. It never bothered me that Dame Agatha was writing a middle-aged, Belgian, male detective or that Dorothy L. was putting words in the mouth of an amateur, male, aristocratic sleuth. Poirot and Lord Peter were so real to me as a reader, I assumed their creators must know every detail of their life histories and be privy to their every random thought. I set out to know my character Tito just as well. I put my mental health background to work, plotting out a psycho-social history of my fictitious sleuth. And not only Tito, but all my main and secondary characters, who cover a large range of gender, age and ethnic groups.

My male characters all sound and behave differently because they are different people with their own life experiences. Tito's brother Alessandro is the first-born of their family and became a merchant seaman. He's a man's man, highly responsible, ambitious, and used to giving orders. His speech is direct, clipped, and often shows exasperation. Whatever he's doing, he plows right in. Tito is the third child in the family. He was ordered around by his older brother and sister, and during his years of musical studies, he became accustomed to taking direction from teachers and opera directors. He has also had to learn to move in the elegant world of his aristocratic patrons. Thus, Tito's voice is much softer, more tactful, and polite than Alessandro's. He tends to think and consider consequences before he acts. And then there's Gussie, the Englishman who interrupted his Grand Tour to marry Tito's sister and stay in Venice. While Gussie often struggles to understand the people and customs of his new homeland, his mellow, artistic nature never allows him to become hostile or rude.

I've come to the conclusion that many writers worry about the male-female dichotomy too much. Unless we're writing a mystery set entirely in a monastery or convent, we must write convincing characters of both sexes. Instead of asking if your dialogue sounds like a man or a woman, ask yourself if your characters would express themselves that way. Know them well, let them be themselves, and your reader will believe in them as much as you do.

Tito and the Inquiring Minds

2007-08-06T10:15:00.000-04:00

I recently spoke to a very congenial book club at the Central Brevard Public Library in Cocoa, Florida. After I'd discussed Tito Amato's sleuthing adventures in old Venice, several readers approached me with questions of a personal nature, Tito's personal nature, that is. Is he able to function sexually? Why isn't he gay? Weren't all the castrati necessarily quite effeminate? Inquiring minds want to know!

Contrary to rational assumption, many of the castrati were neither womanly nor impotent. First, the bitter details: while castration had been used from the dawn of time, for punishment and to make tractable captives and slaves, the practice of gelding young boys to preserve their beautiful soprano voices did not become widespread until around 1600. It started with a group of Spanish singers imported to the Papal Chapel in Rome. Their voices were so angelic and otherworldly, so high, yet so strong and resonant when compared to the boy sopranos, that the public couldn't get enough of them. As the new spectacle of opera developed, vocally talented Italian boys were put to the knife in increasing numbers. Under the influence of opiates or other primitive anesthesia, the boys were plunged into a warm bath to soften their genital organs and their testicles quickly removed.

Besides turning their throats to gold, the surgery caused other hormonal and structural changes. The castrati singers were quite tall with elongated arms and legs, beardless, and tended to have fat settle on their hips and chests as they aged. Their complexions tended to be pale and unblemished and their scalp hair thick and glossy. Despite all, most could experience nearly normal sexual relations. Castration prevented them from fathering children, but not from having an erection or emitting seminal fluid. Just as in unmutilated males, their sexual orientation and libido level varied.

Going back several centuries and getting onto the mindset of their fans is difficult, but the more recent crazes for Sinatra, Elvis, the Beatles, Madonna and others gives us a hint of how the most famous castrati were regarded. They were the entertainment idols of their day, with all the fenzy and hoopla that goes with that sort of fame. Their sexual and romantic exploits could fill a book. Women and men lavished them with jewels and other extravagant presents, cuckolded husbands tried to have them run out of town, and one, Siface, was even murdered by thugs hired by his lover's humiliated family. Some, like Tito, wearied of the adulation, turned positively respectable and married, but only in Protestant countries as the Catholic Church forbade them the sacrament of marriage.

Here's a line-up of some castrati who were considered irresistible in their day. From top to bottom: Farinelli, Velluti, Marchesi.

Quills

2007-07-22T10:31:00.001-04:00

Okay, the bulk of this film takes place in 1806, but since the Marquis de Sade is generally regarded as an 18th-century personality, I think Quills (Fox Searchlight, 2000) is ripe for a review. The film is based on a play by Doug Wright, who also wrote the script. Philip Kaufman directed, and the cast, right down to the secondary characters, is peopled by acknowledged acting talents.

The plot of Quills is basically a struggle of wills between the Marquis de Sade, who has been imprisoned as a lunatic, and a sadistic doctor who takes charge of the Marquis' s asylum. Internally compelled to put his sexual fantasies down on paper, the Marquis writes novels which are smuggled out of the asylum by Madeleine, a laundry maid who comes to collect his dirty linen and stays to hear his lacivious stories. Under order of Emperor Napoleon, the new doctor is determined to shut the Marquis down and ensure that his pornographic writings do not reach the public. Geoffrey Rush skillfully portrays the Marquis as a sympathetic figure, almost a literary knight errant. He hoists the standard of artistic expression in the face of ever more rigorous punishments. His quills and paper are taken from him and he writes in wine on his sheets. His wine is also removed, so he writes in his own blood, on his own clothing. So it goes until he is writing in excrement on the stones of his dungeon cell. Michael Caine makes a suitably cruel antagonist.

As a former psychiatrist, I was naturally interested in the treatment of the mentally ill at the "hospital." Joaquin Phoenix plays Abbe de Coulmier, the Marquis's original keeper, who advocated enlightened treatment. De Coulmier embodies the asylum movement that grew up in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The idea was that the lunatics, to use the contemporary terminology, could purge their demons by writing, painting, gardening, or other creative endeavors. Pleasant surroundings, kind treatment, and healthy food would change the lunatics' behavior more conclusively than the rough punishments which had been the norm. Where the Michael Caine character favored the dunking chair, Abbe de Coulmier used rational discussion and directing the inmates to present plays to entertain the neighborhood. This enlightened approach slowly came into wide use and remained the standard of treatment until psychotropic medications were developed in the 20th century. I would love to say that the sadistic treatments have been totally abandoned, but that's not so. Today's mentally ill individuals who end up in many of our nation's prisons still face conditions almost as horrific as the poor Marquis.

I didn't know much about the Marquis de Sade's real life, so I had to do a bit of research to see how the film stacked up in the credibility department. The general idea of a pre-revolutionary aristocrat having great leeway to rebel against society's mores and manners is correct. Even more than in our day, the powerful were above the law. Where the Marquis went too far was in denigrating the king's authority. He was first sent to an asylum by a lettre du chachet obtained by his family from the king. Of course, the revolution changed everything. The Marquis's old ideas didn't suit the new egalitarianism at all. The details of his later days and death are sketchy, but the film obviously twisted his biography to tell the tale. Somehow, I don't think the old fellow would have minded. He apparently enjoyed being infamous. Overall, I found Quills to be an excellent, multi-layered film, true to its period while also containing contemporary relevance. Recommended for all except the most squeamish--the asylum scenes were pretty brutal.

By the way, I estimated the film's time according to a scene where Napoleon is railing against the Marquis's latest novel as his portrait is being painted. Here's the portrait-- Emperor Napoleon as painted by Jean-Auguste-Dominque Ingres in 1806.

The Plague Doctor

2007-07-01T14:58:00.000-04:00

Readers frequently ask about the cover of Painted Veil, the second book in The Baroque Mystery series. Who is this guy and what kind of costume is he wearing? Since the man behind the mask is the villain who remains incognito until the end of the novel, I'll skip over "who" and talk about the costume. The figure that could easily be a rejected version of the Scary Movie slasher is actually a medieval plague doctor.

By Tito's time, the mid-1700's, the plague doctor had become a figure of fun. He could be seen at masked balls and capering his way though Carnevale alongside the many Harlequins, Turks, Dresden shepherdesses, and Greek gods. Sometimes, the character of Il Dottore in the Commedia dell'arte plays wore a plague doctor's mask. The origin of the costume was much more sinister.

In the 1400's, Europe was swept by an epidemic more severe than any ever experienced: the Black Death. As the disease crept north from Sicily, people died by the thousands and whole villages were often wiped out in the space of weeks. Some communities tried to protect themselves by hiring a doctor strictly to treat plague victims who had been shut up in their homes. This doctor was expected to visit his patients as many as two and three times a day. The current thinking blamed noxious vapors or poisonous air for the disease, so any doctor brave enough to accept the task swathed himself in protective gear--the medieval version of a HazMat suit.

Doctors already wore black robes to display their university training and erudition. To visit plague-ridden homes, they soaked the robes in wax in hopes of repelling any infectious fluids or vapors. The rest of their skin, they covered with leather boots, smocks, gloves, and hoods. These strict precautions may well have protected them against the true cause of the Black Death--bacteria-carrying fleas that hitched rides on the ubiquitous rats. The doctors' distinctive masks could be made of leather or metal. The eye holes were covered with heavy netting or glass, and the long beak was stuffed with camphor-soaked cotton and herbs. Experts vary on whether the doctors believed the herbs had healing properties or simply used them to overcome the horrible smells.

Much like the revelers in Tito's Venice, people still enjoy playing plague doctor for Halloween or Mardi Gras. Here are some links for costume vendors that carry the masks. Some of the more expensive masks would be suitable for displaying on a wall.

http://www.masqueradevenetianmasks.com/noses_plague_doctor_plain.htm

http://www.themaskstore.com/inv-italian.htm#vbmd

Venice I

2007-06-27T14:54:00.000-04:00

I have a secret. Though my Baroque Mystery series is set in Venice, I've never set foot in that magnificent island city. So far, I've relied on others to be my eyes and ears on Tito's world, but that will soon change. This fall my husband and I will be spending a week in Venice!!!!! Yes, I know multiple exclamation points are the mark of an amateur writer. Can't help it--I'm just too excited. From now on, I'll do regular blog entries about my preparations for the trip and my impressions once we reach Italy.

Which all begs the question: How do I write about a place I've never been? First, I remind myself that no living person has ever visited Tito's Venice. If my fictitious singer-sleuth had ever walked the stones of the Piazza San Marco or slunk down the alleys of the Cannaregio, it would have been over 250 years ago. So I go to the source, real 18th-century Venetians. Giacomo Casanova, the self-styled great lover is number one on my list. Near the end of his life, Casanova decided the world couldn't live without a written account of his varied adventures and proceeded to set them down in great detail. From him, I learn where Tito could catch the fastest gondola to Murano, which confectionary shop would have the tastiest sweets for his lady love, and much more.

In the absence of photos detailing the landscape, I turn to paintings and drawings. Luckily, every young man making his Grand Tour wanted views to take back and hang on the walls of the old manor, so plenty of scenes of Tito's world exist. I own a book devoted to Canaletto, who must have painted every campo and bridge in Venice. When I need a background for an action scene, I open the book, scan the collection, pick a likely setting, and start writing. For interior scenes, I go to Pietro Longhi. He was a master at capturing the decaying city and its carnival diversions, as well as the social customs of its pleasure-mad aristocracy.

As valuable as these resouces have been, I'll doubtless find lots more to inspire me when I'm truly there. Plane schedules and reservations await. Wish me luck!

The Brotherhood of the Wolf

2007-06-04T09:11:00.000-04:00

Costume drama? Creature horror? Romance? Political conspiracy? Kung fu adventure? The Brotherhood of the Wolf (2002, Universal) deliciously contrives to be all these and more. In pre-revolutionary France, a wolf-like beast is terrorizing the countryside of Gevaudon. The local priest calls the attacks a sign for the faithful to mend their ways, but King Louis XV just wants the beast killed and its carcass brought back to display in Paris. A squadron of soldiers has come up empty-handed, so Gregoire de Fronsac, a naturalist and veteran of the French-Indian War, is dispatched to get the job done.

I have a thing for historical veracity. I want films (and books) that purport to tell a story about a certain era to be true to that time. Hodgepodges of the ancient and modern are not for me. Since I've done so much research for my Baroque Mystery series, I'm particularly sensitive to the 18th-century mindset. Watching a film that gets it wrong is like walking a mile with a pointy-edged rock in my shoe (see my short review of Marie Antoinette!). With one glaring transgression, The Brotherhood of the Wolf gets it right.

Director Cristophe Gans starts with a well-known French legend. The Beast of Gevaudon prowls the misty boundaries of reality and folklore alongside the Jersey Devil and West Virginia's Mothman. A local supposedly killed the super-wolf with a silver bullet melted down from medals dedicated to the Blessed Virgin--his gun is still enshrined in the town hall. The film adds considerable back story to the incident and provides us with a ficticious hero. I find this De Fronsac quite a believable character. As you would expect from a natural philosopher, he embodies the spirit of the Enlightenment by refusing to accept the church's view that the beast is a supernatural punishment. As a veteran of the European wars that spilled into North America, he employs his specialized knowledge of non-native fauna and foreign belief systems.

Mani, his Mohawk blood-brother, also intrigued me. If only the director had played him true to life! This character's oriental-style martial arts was the worst thing about this film for me. Native Americans did visit Europe--Pocohantas being the most famous example--so Mani's presence in France wasn't the problem. In fact, the juxtaposition of cultures and beliefs provided a great deal of interest. It was making Mani into a faux Bruce Lee that was way over the top.

There are many other points to comment on. The political intrigue, though difficult to follow, was right on. Louis XV and Pope Clement XIII were in the midst of a power struggle over the expulsion of the Jesuits from France. Would the Vatican have used prostitutes as spies? If you'll forgive my cliche, is the Pope Catholic? And then there's the look of the film. It was steeped in atmosphere from the candlelit interiors to the dank, mossy forests. Yes, The Brotherhood of the Wolf is overwrought at times and it's at least 20 minutes too long thanks to all the slo-mo kung fu, but it's highly creative and entertaining. After all, isn't that why we watch?

Tito and the Rascally Barber

2007-03-25T15:01:00.000-04:00

Bear with me and I'll tell you how my fictional detective, Tito Amato, came by his name.

Flash back to me, age 14, the mid-60's. I was a weird kid. While all my friends were rushing to the record store to buy Beatles and Beach Boy albums, I was buying opera. The first I bought with my own money was The Barber of Seville with Maria Callas as Rosina, Luigi Alva as Count Almaviva, and Tito Gobbi as Figaro. I'd given my purchase careful thought and decided on that opera because I'd heard it on the radio courtesy of the old Texaco Opera Theater which broadcast the Saturday matinees from the Metropolitan Opera. If memory serves, I rode the bus into downtown Louisville and found my treasure at a record store on Fourth Street. Shackleton's??? Whatever the store, I could hardly wait to get home and play it. I wasn't disappointed. I practically played the grooves off that album.

That came to my mind because yesterday my husband and I saw the Met's latest production of the Barber via satellite. Technology has moved on, and now the Met's Saturday matinees can be viewed at your local movie theater. I can't say enough good about this program. With the close-ups, the surround sound, the high-def, and the extra scenes of the singers in their dressing rooms, this may be better than actually being there. This Barber was spectacular, especially the coloratura of handsome tenor Juan Diego Florez as the count (pictured above). But that's another blog, let me just say, if you live near a theater that's carrying these satellite feeds, go for it. It's the best $18.00 an opera lover can spend. Long story short, I came home determined to find my old album.

The Myers household gave up its last turntable years ago, so all the old 33's and 45's had been banished to the basement. After fighting the spiders and mildew, I finally found the right box and pulled out the album. Big surprise, I remembered that Callas was in the production, but I'd forgotten about Tito Gobbi. Somehow, his name must have been buried in my subconscious.

When I was naming my Venetian singer-sleuth, I first came up with the surname of Amato. I liked the sound and it translates to "beloved friend," a sentiment that fits my noble, loving Tito very well. In a more subtle way, it also speaks to his frequent loneliness and marginalization from society. All over Italy, Amato or it's variation D'Amato was the surname given to children abandoned at orphanages. They were quite literally "love children." For his first name, I wanted something short that fit with Amato, and Tito sprang to mind immediately. From nowhere, I thought, but now I know it must have come from Tito Gobbi, the baritone who sang the rascally barber Figaro on the album that meant so much to me as a teenager.

M. Antoinette X 2

2007-03-17T21:07:00.000-04:00

My comments about M. Antoinette #1 are short, if not sweet. This is the recent film directed by Sofia Coppola and starring Kirsten Dunst. Several other bloggers have slapped this mess with the more appropriate title of Gidget goes to Versailles--I only wish I'd thought of it first. While the scenes and costumes are visually stunning, the characters and dialogue lack any 18th-century sensibility whatsoever. The dominant motif is a bevy of 21st-century teenagers partying in fancy dress. Fun for the actors perhaps, but what a waste.

M. Antoinette #2 offers a bit more substance: The Affair of the Necklace directed by Charles Shyer. The necklace in question provoked a true-life scandal that rocked the French monarchy and helped spur the Revolution. Hilary Swank plays Jeanne de la Motte-Valois, a disinherited aristocrat who longs to repurchase her family estate. To raise the necessary funds, she dupes a licentious Cardinal into buying a fabulous necklace for Marie Antoinette and then makes off with it herself. Jeanne faces cruel punishment, but eventually escapes to England. The queen, of course, pays with her head.

Though Hilary Swank is not particularly believable as a period actress, the smoky interiors and realistic exterior scenes set the tone of 18th-century Paris and environs very well. The supporting cast is excellent, particularly Christopher Walken as an almost over-the-top Count Cagliostro and Jonathan Pryce as the slimy, arrogant Cardinal de Rohan. Joely Richardson creates a cold, edgy Marie Antoinette who fully understands the depth of her people's hatred. And then there's Adrien Brody as Jeanne's rascally husband. For me, Brody raises the level of any film he appears in.

But I think the best thing about this film is that it refuses to talk down to the viewer. Unlike M. Antoinette #1, The Affair of the Necklace assumes that we have a nodding aquaintance with history, can follow a fairly complicated plot, and appreciate a well-researched, well-acted story. Definitely worth a rent.

The Madness of King George

2007-03-01T19:49:00.000-05:00

The Hanovers had a problem. Pa was running outside in his nightshirt, giving his servants fits, talking a mile a minute, and hijacking the keyboard at a concert held in his honor. Plus his urine had turned blue. His wife wanted to blame it on something he ate, while his eldest son saw an opportunity to grab the family business for himself. All these problems would have remained within the family if Pa hadn't been King George III and if the political survival of Prime Minister William Pitt hadn't depended on restoring the king's sanity. Cue the "mad doctor" with his restraining chair and straightjacket.

This thoroughly absorbing movie, based on a play by Alan Bennett, is well grounded in historical fact. Not just the political dealings, but also the painfully naive medical treatment of the day. Nigel Hawthorne sets the tone as he initially plays the king as a pompous, controlling monarch who just might rather have been a farmer. His descent into madness is beautifully portrayed, as well as his return to ruling as a more subdued, but wiser man.

I also particularly enjoyed the performance of Rupert Everett as the callow, bored Prince of Wales searching for a meaningful role in his life of "king in waiting." Clearly, it's an issue that still resonates, right down to his choice of the "unsuitable" woman he was not allowed to legally marry. Helen Mirren was a bit of a disappointment. Her German accent seemed to come and go, and she failed to inhabit the role of Queen Charlotte as convincingly as she did the two Elizabeths.

As a former psychiatrist, I was most interested in the symptoms of the poor king's deteriorating health. Let's review: blue urine, rapid pulse, severe abdominal cramps, constipation, and recurring bouts of delirium. A note at the end of the film suggested that the king suffered from porphyria, a hereditary group of diseases associated with the production of heme, a key component of blood. Though some disagree, I think this diagnosis fits. A few others in his line had the same problem to a lesser degree. A BBC documentary has explained why George III had more virulent symptoms. When they examined some of his surviving hair, it was found to contain 300 time the toxic level of arsenic, probably from a medicinal powder that was supposed to make him better. Arsenic is known to trigger bouts of porphyria.

One more interesting bit. In trolling the web, I learned that the original title of the film was The Madness of King George III. The numerals were dropped because it was felt American audiences might mistake it for a sequel and wonder why they'd missed George I and II. Urban legend? Maybe.

________________ King George III in better days ________________

Tito and the Virtuoso Spy

2007-02-25T18:07:00.000-05:00

By rights, I should have included a few words about 17th-century castrato Atto Melani in my historical note at the back of Cruel Music. Tito's fictional stint as a singer/spy in Cardinal Fabiani's villa owes much to Atto's real-life career. It's time to give the man his due.

Atto's career was fascinating because he used his musical gifts to propel himself into the heights of European society and then used that access to report on court and state intrigue. Atto Melani was born in Pistoia, a small Tuscan town, in 1626, reportedly of a comfortably placed, bourgois family. There's no record of any famous musical ancestors, but the family must have had some interest in the profession, because Atto and three of his six brothers were all castrated for the sake of their lovely voices.

Learning court manners along with his vocal exercises, Atto soon attracted the patronage of nobleman Mattias de'Medici. While their precise realtionship is buried under the weight of years, it appears that the singer may have entertained Mattias with more than music. Atto also added the role of spy when Cardinal Mazarin of France made a request for Italian singers to entertain the French court. Much as Tito was sent as a "gift" from Venice to a Roman prince of the church, Atto was sent by the Medicis to the opera-loving Queen Anne.

The high-born of the time tended to surround themselves with music whenever possible. Besides performing on stage, Atto would have serenaded at banquets, intimate suppers, and basically whenever the queen fancied a song. He quickly learned to turn his talents and good looks to advantage. And also to keep his ears open for information which would interest Mattias de'Medici. He went on to perform the same function for Cardinal Mazarin at German courts. Still later, Atto became involved in a scheme to gain the papal throne for Cardinal Giulio Rospigliosi, who became Pope Clement IX.

The photo of the bust at the top of this post shows Atto in old age, after he had used his influence to gain wealth and position for himself and his family. It's the only representation of him that I've been able to find, though it seems likely that someone with his connections would have sat for a portrait. I've had friends in the baroque community looking, but so far, nothing. If anyone knows of a portrait, please let me know. I'd love to see what he looked like during his singing days.

Note: Most of my information on Atto Melani comes from the work of Roger Freitas, a musicologist who has made a serious study of his life and works (Atto wrote music, too).

Reflections In My Lover's Eye

2007-02-11T17:57:00.000-05:00

A lover's eye--what could be more apropos to blog about leading up to Valentine's Day. Miniature portraits have been around for centuries, but it wasn't until the 18th century that an especially romantic version came into use.

In instances where the identity of your true love might cause inconvenience or worse, you could commission an artist to paint only the eye and brow of your lover's face. You would know whose eye you were mooning over in times of separation, but if the portrait were discovered, no one else would. The eyes were set in lockets, rings, and probably most often, brooches. Clever jewelers could arrange it so the eyes were hidden by more sedate representations. A tiny portrait of your patron saint was one popular ploy.

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The most famous lover's eye was given to Mrs. Fitzherbert by the Prince of Wales of the era, who later became King George IV. While daddy George III was fretting over the loss of those pesky American colonies and battling bouts of insanity, his son entered into a secret marriage with Maria Ann Fitzherbert, a Catholic widow. By the Act of Settlement of 1701, anyone who married a Roman Catholic was barred from succeeding to the throne, so it was all very hush-hush. Mrs. Fitzherbert was later tossed aside, but the idea of the lover's eye was not. The Prince became quite a dandy and fashion arbiter in later life, perhaps contributing to the popularity of the love tokens. I can't help but wonder if Charles ever presented one to Camilla.

I included a lover's eye as a clue in Cruel Music. Tito is trying to assist an elderly noblewoman who suffers from what we would call Alzheimer's Disease. She shows him her ring with her tiny painting of a brown eye and shaggy brown brow. Begging Tito to find the larger portrait of her lover, she explains that she hid it away and has now forgotten where. Only trouble is, the man acknowledged as her long-time paramour and father of her son has blue eyes. J.J. Smith-Moore, the artist who designed the cover for Cruel Music, utilized that idea rather well, I think.

When Teeth Were Teeth

2007-02-04T11:29:00.000-05:00

On this frigid February day, I'm deep in the middle of my manuscript for the fourth Baroque Mystery. Tito and company are rehearsing an opera at an out-of-the-way villa in the hills of the Veneto. It's autumn--the trees are flaming scarlet and gold and the fields are bathed in that uniquely warming autumn sunlight. Maybe it's the disconnect between my freezing toes and the words I'm typing, but the page just isn't filling up and I need a break!

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I've been meaning to share some 18th-century curios and oddites I've stumbled across in my research. Here's the first installment.

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In elementary school, most of us heard about George Washington's wooden false teeth and why his likeness on the dollar bill makes him look like he has a powerful toothache. Maybe he was just worrying over where his teeth actually came from. He had several sets of dentures, and at least one of them was made of hippotamus ivory, but none were wooden. As I researched the matter for a Baroque Mystery character that will have artificial teeth, I was surprised to find that many dentures were fashioned of real teeth. Some were harvested from cadavers by grave robbers or unscrupulous sextons. Some came from executed criminals. And in wartime, many were pulled from the mouths of soldiers as they lay dead or dying on the battlefield. Several decades after Washington's (and Tito's) time, these came to be know as "Waterloo teeth."

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The real shocker for me was how many desperately poor young people traded a lifetime of eating gruel for just a few coins. The "donors" had to be young, as the primitive oral care of the day led to rot and disease at an early age. Their teeth were loosened with careful hammering--don't want to damage those valuable chompers!--then removed with pliers. It just goes to show how little things change. Then it was teeth, now its third-world citizens selling their kidneys to be transplanted into Americans and Europeans. Unfortunately, there will always be opportunists willing to turn a profit from the misery of others.

Cruel Muses

2006-12-08T16:16:00.000-05:00

How can music be cruel? A quote from the above pictured Benjamin Britten started me thinking about it: "It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful." Britten was a mid-20th-century British composer known for the operas Billy Budd, The Turn of the Screw and other instrumental and vocal works. I don't know what inspired his comment, but I found it so appropriate to the situation of the 18th-century castrati that I used Cruel Music for the title of the third book in my Baroque Mystery series.

Few of the castrati chose their life paths. The surgery was generally performed between the ages of eight and ten, well before a mature decision could be reached. Someone else, usually a father, in some cases a music maestro, made the arrangements, and the boy was sedated with opium or a similar sedative. Thus a cruel, unwitting sacrifice made the basis for a career which could propel a man to the heights of the musical world of his day.

Sometimes I can empathize with my fictitious singer Tito Amato and his real-life compatriots, at least in one small way. Music was their cruel muse and writing is mine. It's the blank page that is so terrifying--the sense of having a story so compelling it wants to burst the seams of my skull, yet doubting my ability to find the right words to make it come alive. Though it's painful at times, I could no sooner stop writing than Tito could stop singing.

Cruel music. Cruel words. Cruel muses.

Casanova, Part One

2006-11-21T16:02:00.000-05:00

Heath Ledger isn't Giacomo Casanova. The self-styled great lover was nothing if not glib. Words were his stock in trade. He used them not only to seduce, but also to talk his way into the good graces of aristocrats, bishops, Turkish pashas, and military commanders. Watching mush-mouthed Heath mumble his diffident way through his lines in Casanova (Touchstone, 2005) left me shaking my head.

I feel like I know the real man, you see. Casanova left us twelve (!) volumes of memoirs detailing his long and never-dull life. Since he was a Venetian and a contemporary of Tito Amato, the hero of my baroque mystery series, I've studied these volumes with a keen eye. For a novelist, there's gold in those pages. Where can you catch a fast gondola to Murano? What is the best confectionary shop to provide sweets for your lady love? What is the procedure for renting a box at the opera? Casanova tells all, and I'm eternally grateful.

So to enjoy the film, I ignored Heath and concentrated on the costumes and scenery. They got those right, as right as can be. Being filmed in Venice, a city which has changed little over the centuries helped. I felt like I'd stepped into Tito's world.

The biggest kick was recognizing interior scenes based on the same material that I use to describe scenes in my books. Pietro Longhi, an artist of the period, excelled in painting domestic scenes with families involved in everyday activities. It's all there in the movie--men and women sitting on gilt furniture as they read or play cards, lap dogs curled on pillows, mirrors hanging on fabric wallcovering the color of ancient moss. They even caught the special shimmering quality of the light that reflects off the waters of the canals.

The plot? Not bad for a fabricated bit of fluff, with a twist that provides some interest. It's one of those things that could happen, but didn't. For those who might want to rent the film, I won't spoil it by explaining further.

Sex, Drugs & Baroque Arias

2006-11-15T19:36:00.000-05:00

I decided to watch Farinelli (Sony, 1995) with fresh eyes. Before I started writing my mystery series about a fictitious castrato, I watched that film what seemed like a hundred times. Loved every minute.

Now that I've learned more about the period and the real lives of the individuals portrayed, my feelings have changed. The costumes are still spot on. Ditto for the theater interiors and stage sets, though I kept asking myself, "Where are all the other singers in these operas?"

I can also appreciate the effort involved in morphing the voices of a female soprano and a male counter-tenor into one otherworldly voice that no one currently on the planet can match. After all, 18th-century accounts tell us that women fainted and strong men wept when the best castrati performed. There were times when even the orchestra musicians were so overcome that they had to stop playing their instruments. The popularity of the castrati was a genuine phenomenon, and I applaud the film's attempt to bring it to a contemporary audience.

It's those pesky facts that ruin it for me. We're talking about real people here, people with accomplishments, loves, fears, hopes and standards of their own. Since the likes of Farinelli, his brother Riccardo, and the composers Porpora and Handel made it into the history books, their life stories are there for anyone to read. I can understand spinning a few facts to bolster a plot, but it bothers me that the film takes so many liberties. Handel never again composing an opera because Farinelli stole his score and sang it at a rival opera company? Farinelli stealing the score in the first place? Please! It never happened, folks.

The worst is portraying the greatest castrato of the era, quite possibly the greatest singer who ever lived, as an opium-addled brat who bedded his women in the company of his brother. Farinelli's contemporaries describe him as sincere, humble (unlike many of his fellow castrati) and unfailingly pleasant to fellow singers and patrons. He was also know for bending over backwards to avoid scandal. I think there's something wrong in besmirching a reputation, even at the distance of several centuries.

Enjoy this film for the music and the milieu. Just remember it's pure fiction, even though it involves real people.

Saluti

2006-11-13T16:57:00.000-05:00

I'm a mystery writer with my head floating in the 18th century and my feet firmly planted in the here and now, almost Southern, but really Midwestern city of Louisville, Kentucky. Most of the time I can be found at my keyboard, adding to the adventures of Tito Amato, my singing sleuth, but sometimes I like to cut loose and chat about things totally unrelated to my books. Well, maybe partially related.

Besides Tito's milieu of Venice and baroque opera, I'll be posting about my own family history. I recently discovered that my Graves genealogy dates back to the early Jamestown settlement. Thank you Captain Thomas Graves for being adventurous enough to cross the Atlantic in a wind-driven wooden boat and make a new life in a land very different from your London home. I'm going to study up on you. Hope you make me proud.

I'll also explain where the title, Cruel Music, comes from and talk about books and movies that I love or hate, especially ones set in my beloved 18th century. More on that later. For now I'll close with a still shot from Farinelli, one of the movies that gives me some good ideas about what life must have been like for Tito.