Book Giveaway: The Jane Austen Handbook

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A new guide to 'Proper Life Skills from Regency England'. This little hardback book covers every part of life as a Jane Austen heroine. It's a gift book rather than factual history, but would make fun reading for anyone having a go at their first historical fiction (and writing about a nice middle class English girl, of course). To win the copy I have here, tell me in the comments your favourite Austen heroine, and why.

'Remember that writing about something can change it.': Review of an LGBT history workshop at the Museum of London

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On Saturday I spoke at an Untold London workshop held at the Museum of London, on the subject of LGBT history and blogging.  This was coupled with a tour of the 'gay' artifacts in the Museum and a writing session.

LGBT history is full of great stories and many brave individuals right through history who were ready to defy the convention, and often the laws of the day to lead their life.  Its interpretation is fraught with difficulty, often due to twentieth century abstract perceptions of what it means to be 'queer'.  What was it like to be of alternative sexuality two hundred or three hundred years ago?  Despite my grasp of the stories and facts I don't know, do I?  I don't know what it's like now (I managed to announce, to much hilarity, that 'I am not a gay man').  I have never felt alone or rejected because of my sexuality, and have certainly never been persecuted for it.  

So when I was preparing for the workshop, I had no idea what to expect - and I certainly wasn't disappointed. What a crowd!  For a start, our venue in the Clore centre was packed, almost double the attendance expected.  Interests ranged from high fashion in court circles to trades unions to concepts of what it means to be trans-gender, genealogy and education.

The lovely Babs gave an introduction, I blathered for a bit about being alternative in Georgian London and then Kate took us on a tour of the gay artifacts of the Museum.  What is a gay artifact?  Well might you ask.  After all, gay people own clocks, shoes and read books just like everyone else.  A 'Pride' badge is not enough to show the input of gay people into the history of London.  So we looked at objects such as the head of Hadrian found near London Bridge.  Hadrian was devoted to his lover Antinous, whose death almost broke the emperor.  Did you know Antinous's 'head' was the only non-imperial one ever to appear on Roman coinage?  As our large group wended its way through a busy Saturday afternoon Museum of London, the sense of fun and enjoyment was clear.  I learned things I didn't know, and not just from Kate - my knowledge of Marie Antoinette's fashion dictatorship is now considerably increased.  As we walked we discussed the difference between the performance of alternative sexuality (Alexander McQueen came up here) and the reality of living an alternative life.  Which is which and which deserves to be remembered?

We returned to the Clore for questions, discussion and writing.  The challenge was to put something down about the experiences of the day, and the results were quite simply, brilliant.  Varied, eloquent and often very funny, they highlighted what had been learned and often passed sharp comment on modern gay life.  I would like to thank everyone who came (and Babs and Kate for a splendid day), and to extend an invitation to Georgian Londoners to celebrate LGBT history month in February: email me a blog post please, up to 500 words on your favourite pre-1950 LGBT Londoner.  Tell me how you found them and why you admire them.  It can be integrity, heroism, social daring or killer style.  I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Book Review: Mid-Georgian Britain by Jacqueline Riding

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I am not much of a fan of 'snap-shot' books; they are usually trite, inaccurate and use the same-old, same-old sources (often out of context).  HOWEVER, they are sometimes useful as introductions to a subject, and if the subject has been chosen well, can be an excellent overview of a niche topic that might otherwise be neglected.  When the lovely people at Shire Living Histories sent me Jacqueline Riding's Mid-Georgian Britain I wasn't sure if it was going to fit into either of these categories.  What a shrew, eh?  But wait.

Riding states in the introduction that the 1740-69 period (the 'dateline' of this work) was when London/Britain stood 'on the threshold of the Industrial Revolution'.  This statement is problematic as London's Industrial Revolution was way earlier than that of the rest of the country - I think one of the earliest mentions of trades abandoning London for cheaper premises and labour is 1751, when the change had become noticeable, so whilst this claim is true for 1740 the rate of trade movement out of London was so rapid it cannot be true by 1769.  And that, really, is my only argument with this good little book: it covers a period of huge change within a city so various, which evolved so much within the set dates that any statement made about the period will almost certainly be wavering towards one end of the date range.  That, and the fact that the book is about London, not Britain.

There are chapters on domestic life, the home, the neighbourhood, work and fashion as well as aspects of Town living.  The chapters gallop, very necessarily, through the city - almost like a supermarket sweep for the touchstones of Georgian London, and I think it works very well.  It is beautifully illustrated with modern photographs, as well as images of sources and very memorably, a syphilitic skull.  Riding writes with a balanced, engaging style and is an accomplished historian, all apparent in the assured feel of the text.  Sources are not limited to the date range, but those way out (Defoe in 1709, for example) remain relevant to the matter in hand.  

This is a good book and one that knows its remit.  There have been much bigger books on exactly the same subject, but none fit this amount of information into an impressive 77 pages.  If you would like to own this book, you can buy it (£8.99 - not cheap for a book this size, although it is illustration-heavy), or tell me, in the comments section what is your favourite decade in the Georgian period, and why.  My favourite reason wins the book.

Book Review: Michelle Lovric's 'The Mourning Emporium'

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The Mourning Emporium is Michelle Lovric's sequel to The Undrowned Child, which was my book of 2009.  The Undrowned Child told the story of Teodora and Lorenzo, The Undrowned Child and the Studious Son of an ancient Venetian prophesy, bound to defeat the evil Bajamonte Tiepolo.  It was a splendid rip through Venice containing baddened magic, enchanted earrings, bawdy mermaids and a charming heroine. 

Teo and Renzo are back in The Mourning Emporium and facing not only the return of Tiepolo and his baddened magic, but a change of scene when they are kidnapped aboard barely sea-worthy pirate ship the Scilla and end up in London as Queen Victoria dies.  There they find more mermaids, Venetian zookymen, a talking, waistcoat-wearing bulldog called Turtledove and The Mourning Emporium of Tristesse and Ganorus. 

To say any more will spoil the story, but there is fighting, magic and maybe even a touch of romance.  The Mourning Emporium explores more thoroughly the grey areas between good and evil.  Teo and Renzo are older and life isn't always easy: death and loss are constant themes (fitting, in a book named after an undertaker's).  Jealousy and mistrust play their part in the relationship emerging between our heroine and hero.  Lovric writes mainly for adults, where her themes are dark and complex.  In The Undrowned Child she created a splendid cross-over story that appealed to the history fan in me, as well as it being a wonderful adventure.  The Mourning Emporium does not stand alone and I would strongly recommend anyone to read the first book before taking this one up; it is an exploration of the cities Michelle Lovric loves most - London and Venice.  This love is evident in the atmosphere she evokes easily.  As always, she wears her research lightly and her comical corruptions of Victorian advertisements such as 'The Original Widow Welch's Female Pills' to the bald dialect of the London children 'bored to estinkshon' by their Venetian visitors will delight both children and those who retain a speck of humour.  I also enjoyed the section at the end of the story about what is and what is not true, revealing facts about the cities and a little of the history behind the book.

This book is a pleasure and I sincerely recommend it.  If I have one criticism of this charming and beautifully produced hardback (touched, as with The Undrowned Child by the hand of illustrator Laura Brett) it is that it takes too long to come to London.  But then, I would say that, wouldn't I?

From Handel to Hendrix: A Coloured History

In these times, whoever wishes to be eminent in music goes to England.  In Italy and France there is something to be heard and earned; in England something to be earned.
Johann Mattheson, 1713

This piece of sage advice applied as much to Handel in 1710 as it did to Jimi Hendrix in the late 1960s.  Handel, originally from Halle in Germany, would go on to become perhaps our greatest musical import.  His love for London, and for England led him to become a naturalized citizen later in his life.  His compositions are still played at the coronation of England's sovereigns and for many, his work captures the early 18thC. 

In 1723, Handel took the lease on a new building in Brook Street, Mayfair.  He would live in number 25 for the rest of his life and when he died, his servant John would inherit the lease and managed to raise enough money to purchase the things in the house to keep it as it was.  The house changed hands throughout the 19thC, and in 1905 was purchased by an antiques dealer, whose family would own the house until the 1970s.  The changes he made were not entirely sympathetic and when in 2000 the Handel House Museum Trust took over the job of returning the house to how it would have looked in its first owner's day, they faced a tough challenge.  

Restoration of an historic building is not just about returning the built structure to its original appearance; the atmosphere within the rooms has to be right too.  Colour and furnishings are essential.  Of course, without a detailed inventory of Handel's furniture, or a plan of how each room was laid out (these do exist sometimes, although not usually for houses as 'modest' as Handel's) it is only possible to recreate a typical room setting of the period, given what is known about Handel.  What it is possible to do however, is to recreate the decoration of the room.

Patrick Baty owns Papers and Paints in Park Walk, Chelsea (celebrating their 50th anniversary this year).  He is also a consultant on historical paint with an astonishing knowledge of historical paint colour, ingredients, techniques and London artisans.  He can establish how a room once looked by examining the layers of paint and has worked on a vast number of projects over the years.  Much of his work has involved early eighteenth century interiors.

Samples taken of the paint from the rooms in No 25 revealed that the building had been much altered during the last 270 years.  Fragments of original paint survived in three areas, which indicated that there had been an early use of grey on the panelling, with brown on the doors.  A similar use of colour was identified throughout No 23, suggesting, perhaps, that the original scheme had been a speculator's finish.  It is this grey that has been reintroduced.

It seems strange that colour can be so crucial in recreating a period 'feel' to a building, but as I have come to learn through Patrick's work, it is just as important as any of the other tools used to create the right atmosphere, in either private homes or public spaces.  I think the pictures make it clear how successful the reintroduction of the original colour scheme has been for the Handel House Museum. 

The museum is one of London's hidden heritage gems: go and have a look.  It'll surprise you.  The atmosphere is lovely.  Even better, if you go later this summer, you can also visit Jimi Hendrix's flat in the adjoining building as part of the Hendrix in Britain exhibition.

Many thanks to the lovely people at the Handel House Museum for their help and permission to use the images in the gallery.  For more on exactly how Patrick uncovers old interiors, and exteriors for that matter visit his blog, or follow him on Twitter.


 

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Museum of London - The Galleries of Modern London

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The Museum of London has always had the best collection of London 'stuff' to be found anywhere, as is right and proper.  From Roman objects to 1960s textiles, the breadth of their holdings is astonishing.  Occupying the centre of the roundabout at Aldersgate and London Wall, it appears from the outside to be rather like a bunker.  Before the current refurbishment, this darkness was apparent inside: exhibits were housed in downlit cases full of amazing things with somewhat dry little explanations attached. 

Well no longer.  In a £20 million pound project, the in-house design team deserves not only a solid gold star, but to be recognized as having produced one of the most enjoyable London experiences to be had.  Curator Alex Werner very kindly took the time to show me around the new galleries, and was forced to tolerate far too many 'brilliant's and 'awesome's from me (sorry Alex!).  The Expanding London gallery pertains to my period of interest, from the Great Fire to the Great Exhibition and opens with with a Common Press (actually a very rare type of printing press) from which are flying all types of constantly changing 18thC and 19thC news-sheets.  This is all done by projection but the effect is stunning.  From there, things only become more splendid and fantastic.  Interactive displays that will please adults as well as children require you to answer questions against the clock on subjects such as becoming an apprentice - and no, I didn't get them all right - are combined with pockets of the finest of the museum's holdings: objects, pictures, furniture, even a cell from Newgate prison have all come together to produce a 'real' experience. 

The 'pleasure-garden' section is an interesting combination of the 18thC and the modern, where instead of trying to produce an 'instructive' exhibition, they have created a darkened garden populated by figures in stunning period costume with Philip Treacy head-wear inspired by the Georgian period.  Mirrors, videos, music and garden furniture combine to emulate the experience of being in Vauxhall Gardens at night: fun, louche and very faintly sinister.  In the centre of what is a hugely informative exhibition, this small room is a deft touch, creating a genuine feel for the period and I think it will be one of the stand-out memories many adult visitors will take away.

Slightly out of period for me, but of great interest and brilliantly designed is the room dedicated to Booth's Poverty Map.  The interactive program brings this massive work to life in a very engaging manner.  The cholera-spewing water pump nearby evokes shades of the Golden Square outbreak and is great fun for children, but fails slightly to bring home the importance of Bazalgette's reform of London's waterworks to an older visitor.  The exhibition moves right up to the present day, and asks serious questions of the visitors about how London is to move forward - of course, my favourite part of this was the flowing Thames light-show on the floor that blips and ripples when you stand in it.

Entry to the galleries is through an impressive hall where there are work-stations for searching the museum collections and a cafe (lovely sandwiches and very good tea - thank you).  Through the wonders of technology, above your head anything pertaining to London is streaming in a vast circle, from Bloomberg to weathers to Twitter.  In pride of place just off this hall stands the Lord Mayor's coach, built in 1757 and still a working animal.  It sits alone and serene, looking through vast windows onto the road outside.  For all its lack of technology, this display of the coach somehow represents the whole refurbishment: the Museum of London is no longer gazing inward but looking out at London, and quite rightly showing off.

www.museumoflondon.org.uk

If you have an iPhone, the Museum have created a free app called Street Museum.  I like it very much.


Carnivalesque 62

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Be pleased to receive your invitation to attend the sixty-second edition of Carnivalesque this weekend here at Georgian London, where early modern blogging will be served up for your enjoyment.

Øystein Horgmo is a Norwegian medical photographer who blogs at Sterile Eye.  This month he gives us a tour of the Medical Museion in Copenhagen, combining his eye for the austere, and a great review.  I want to go.

Roy Booth at the venerable Early Modern Whale blogs on This Trutination of Sinnes - the story of Catholic fanatic Edmund Campion and his house, Stonor, proving that little changes over time and there's no crackpot like a religious one.   

Lee Durbin at Marginalia blogs on Michael Drayton's poetry and in particular Brutus's founding of Britain.  Works like this struck fear into my heart as an undergraduate, but this is an excellent look at a neglected type of English poetry.

Everyone's favourite historical-paint-expert Patrick Baty blogs at Colourman on 18th century paint colours.  Go and tell him he should blog more on this, instead of clambering over Britain's buildings and bridges, and being on the tellybox. Honestly. *tuts* 

Executed Today features an exceptionally grim tale (on a blog that sets the bar high) with the story of John Dickson's execution for patricide in 1591. 

Early modern darling Dainty Ballerina features a fan-makers' petition over on Fragments, which should get you all of a flutter.  Well, if you love artisan London as much as I do.  *ahem*

Nick Poyntz of the ever-fabulous Mercurius Politicus blogs on woodcuts and Restoration character Praisegod Barebones, the 17th century equivalent of the chap on Oxford Street with the 'End is Nigh' signboard.  Proper crackers.

The Gentleman Administrator takes on the Restoration's love of tiny canines with typical flare, and no doubt a crime-fighting cape and toy light-saber.

Phil Gyford's astonishing commitment to blogging Samuel Pepys diaries has now extended to Twitter.  There's no particular post, the whole thing is just amazing.

Mary Tudor is not the most appealing of English queens, but the Mary Tudor: Renaissance Queen blog makes her case very well.  Her phantom pregnancy is well known but this post looks at it from all the angles and demonstrates her fragile state of mind under the pressure to produce an heir.

Gareth Russell attempts to pin down the facts of Anne Boleyn's life on his blog Confessions of a Ci-Devant.  An interesting read and a new blog to me, so I'll be spending more time here. 

And finally, from our own eminent Quack Doctor, I give you Cameron, the Piss-Prophet.  Many a true word said in jest and all that.  But let's hope not eh?

Book Review: 'The Book of Human Skin' by Michelle Lovric

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I am a big fan of Michelle Lovric's work for both adults and children (her Undrowned Child was my book of 2009 by a country mile), so when the lovely Katie from Bloomsbury sent me a review copy of The Book of Human Skin, I was really looking forward to getting stuck into another densely woven, evocative story.

So, Lovric starts her tale with 'This is going to be a little uncomfortable', and she isn't kidding.  From sadism and violence, to insanity, to body dysmorphia and worse, Lovric takes the reader from 18thC Venice (she is devoted to the city and there is no one who writes about Venice with a darker or more delicate touch) to a Peruvian convent.  The story is told by a bizarre cast of characters, creating a chattering cacophany of distinct voices clamouring to be heard.  Whilst this does not make for the most easily accessible of narratives, this is definitely one to stick with and the pages soon turn themselves. 

The story is fascinating, and Lovric's knowledge of Venice's trading empire shines through: the Fasan family, where her story centres, are traders in Peruvian silver and also Peruvian drugs.  When only son Minguillo's inheritance is compromised by his sadism, which borders on insanity, his little sister Marcella is set to benefit.  Minguillo begins a campaign not only to weaken his sister's mind, but destroy her personality.  It is not enough that he drives her to incontinence through terror, he cripples her and later compromises her sanity.  The things Minguillo does to Marcella are brutal and bear the special character of sibling torture and yet it is the little things Lovric throws in regarding his treatment of animals or distant, irrelevant figures that deepen the reader's knowledge of the chasm of awfulness that is Minguillo Fasan.

Add to this story a terrifying, passive-aggressive Holy anorexic (one of the most unpleasant characters I have encountered between the pages of a book), a doctor obsessed with human skin, a loyal servant, a Scottish merchant and a cigar-smoking nun and you have an especially Lovric sort of read.  The book is ambitious, and the story not without snags, but her knowledge of setting, period and the essential weakness and isolation of human nature makes it a triumph.  Michelle Lovric is a pitiless writer, who revels in creating a cast of lovable rabbits, then setting a mink loose amongst them and watching it go about its feral business.  Remember, it's going to be a little uncomfortable....  

The Book of Human Skin is out now, cover price £12.99, and can be bought from all goode bookshoppes and all that, and also in Mr Amazon's Emporium.  This is Michelle Lovric's website; it is well worth a look and if you have never read her work before, I recommend it.