Georgette Heyer and The Grand Sophy
So Georgette Heyer, it seems, is no longer an antisemite.
Of course that’s ridiculous. Georgette Heyer is exactly as antisemitic as she ever was–at least, her books are.
In The Grand Sophy (which happens to be the only Heyer book I’ve read; it was enjoyable) the moneylender is no longer swarthy, greasy, and named Goldhanger. He’s now just named Grimpstone. He still has an ingratiating leer, for whatever that’s worth.
I have mixed feelings about this. If these changes, made with the permission of her estate, mean that a new reader can float through the book without getting smacked in the face by a truly ugly, damaging, and hurtful stereotype, that seems to be a net good for society.
And yet….
When Mary Bly, a novelist and scholar, wrote an introduction to the book explaining the changes and why they’d been made, the publisher balked. Bly withdrew from the project, along with her introduction. That does bother me.
To make the changes–maybe.
To refuse to discuss or acknowledge the changes–a problem.
We gain something when hurtful stereotypes are removed. We lose something when we refuse to–or are not allowed to–acknowledge that Georgette Heyer might have been a talented writer who portrayed smart, independent women (for the time period and genre in which she wrote) and a bigot at the same time.
We lose the ability to think about books and writers and ourselves with nuance. Maybe we begin to think that the only people who harbor bias are villains as one-dimensional as Goldhanger/Grimpstone–not lively writers of light fiction who gave a lot of pleasure to the world. Not people we admire. Not people who might look a bit like us.
Read MoreA Story of Plague
Since nobody is thinking of anything but pandemic, I thought I’d post about one much worse than what we’re experiencing–the Black Death and the village of Eyam.
It was 1665, and the plague had struck Eyam. (Fleas in a bundle of cloth imported from London are supposed to have been the culprits.) Forty-two people died in four months, and the rest were ready to flee. The village rector knew that if they did so, they’d take the plague with them. He made the former rector, his rival, into an ally, and together they convinced the people of Eyam to stay where they were.
Amazingly, they did it. Almost no one broke quarantine for fourteen months, even though two hundred and sixty people died in a community whose total population did not reach one thousand. People from neighboring villages brought food and left it at the village boundary for the survivors.
If the people of Eyam hadn’t stayed and faced death together, the plague would have killed thousands more. It’s an amazing story of heroism. Maybe I’ll turn it into a book on day.
In the meantime, wash your hands…stay home if you can…be careful and safe!
Read MoreNew England Vampires
JB exhumed skeleton beings studied at the National Museum of Health and Medicine.
Forensic science and folklore can piece together some truths about life (and the afterlife) in New England in the 1700s and 1800s. Like Mercy Brown in Mercy: The Last New England Vampire, JB was a real person, a Connecticut farmer who died of tuberculosis….and whose community dug up his grave after his death, convinced he was a vampire. The Washington Post details new discoveries about him here…one of the few so-called vampire burials to be exhumed and studied.
You don’t have to travel to Transylvania to encounter homegrown vampire folklore. The same legends that led to JB’s exhumation were the basis for my YA novel Mercy. Family, loss, terror, and love–the elements of a good horror story or a supernatural legend.
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Happy Independence Day
How to portray a woman who did not leave a photograph or a portrait behind her? Her shadow on the wall testifies to both her presence and her absence from much of the historical record.
It’s the Fifth of July (okay, posting a day late), so it’s appropriate to take a moment to be glad–perhaps “satisfied” is a better word–that Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s planation, has opened a new exhibit to explore and explain the life of Sally Hemings.
What should we call Sally Hemings? Jefferson’s slave? His mistress? His victim? His common-law-wife? His sister-in-law? Mother of his enslaved children?
Or how about simply a woman who had independence in her grasp but gave it up, only to work hard and negotiate skillfully to achieve independence for her children.
Sally Hemings features in my adaptation of Jon Meacham’s biography of Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson: President and Philosopher.
In his farm book, Jefferson recorded the fate of his crops and the details of the lives of his slaves. He coolly noted down the births of his own children with Sally Hemings. These children did not receive the tender care that Patsy’s and Polly’s boys and girls knew from their grandfather. Jefferson was apparently able to think of them as something entirely separate from his cherished life with his white family. “He was not in the habit of showing…fatherly affection to us as children,” said Jefferson’s son Madison Hemings.
She also gets a mention in Secrets of the Seven: The Eagle’s Quill.
Read MoreSarah L. Thomson
A children’s book author publishing award-winning nonfiction, poetry, picture books and novels including…
“Readers will treasure the blossoming friendship between opposites in this whimsically illustrated tale. Short chapters and plenty of action make for an accessible and appealing reading experience. . . . Touching and inspiring.”
—Kirkus Reviews