Carrie Lofty is back with us today to talk about the heroine of her debut novel, What a Scoundrel Wants.
When I began the manuscript that would become What a Scoundrel Wants, I had big plans for my blind heroine, Meg, and her mile-wide dangerous streak. I'd read too many medieval romances that blended paranormal elements into their history, particularly the real-life existence of magic, so I knew from the start I wouldn't make her a witch. I wanted to stay strictly historical. Yet I felt equally compelled to find a legitimate way for my late twelfth century Englishwoman to understand the secrets of chemistry.
The key to this legitimacy came by way of Adelard of Bath (c. 1080-c. 1152). Adelard was an explorer and philosopher who traveled extensively in his youth, learning Arabic at a university in Toledo (modern-day Spain). He also studied in France, Italy, and Turkey, before settling in Bath around 1122.
After chancing upon an Arabic version of Euclid's Elements of Geometry, which had been translated from the original Greek, he created the Latin version that would become the basis of mathematics until the 16th century. He also studied astronomy, positing that the earth was round, and he formulated what would one day be known as the law of the conservation of matter. Fluent in multiple languages, he went to London and tutored King Henry II, helping include England in Europe's escape from the Dark Ages.
But what does this have to do with my heroine?
Turns out Adelard carried on a years-long conversation with his English nephew. They discussed the unknowns of the day, including the tides, Earth's position in space, and animal physiology. They also catalogued a pharmacopeia of herbs and remedies and, of most importance to my story, they discussed alchemy. Greek fire, gunpowder, acids--Adelard gave his nephew the keys to the whole of Arab scientific learning.
And I imagined Adelard's nephew to be Meg's grandfather.
Meg found her father's fat, tattered book and opened its warped pages. Dozens of letters from his great-uncle Adelard of Bath, the famous tutor to King Richard’s late father, Henry II, stuck out in disarray. She knew the feel of each one. She could no longer see the ornate scrawls of the famous scholar's handwriting, but she knew what they contained: observations, translations, theories about the natural world, and tales of Adelard's far travels. Fingering the pages, she imagined the wonder of that distant relative, his travels and his marvelous ideas. Her father had read the letters to her and Ada like a balladeer, sparking curiosities and questions. They added to the undertaking with their own observations, ever expanding the scope of their family heritage.
Thus her scientific learning and her sister's understanding of foreign languages comes with a basis in legitimacy. It's still pretend, of course, but it made me feel better knowing the possibility was there--a tiny window in history where an isolated Englishwoman might have access to the wonders of medieval science.
Of course, she suffers for it. That sort of knowledge looks a lot like, well...witchcraft!
The key to this legitimacy came by way of Adelard of Bath (c. 1080-c. 1152). Adelard was an explorer and philosopher who traveled extensively in his youth, learning Arabic at a university in Toledo (modern-day Spain). He also studied in France, Italy, and Turkey, before settling in Bath around 1122.
After chancing upon an Arabic version of Euclid's Elements of Geometry, which had been translated from the original Greek, he created the Latin version that would become the basis of mathematics until the 16th century. He also studied astronomy, positing that the earth was round, and he formulated what would one day be known as the law of the conservation of matter. Fluent in multiple languages, he went to London and tutored King Henry II, helping include England in Europe's escape from the Dark Ages.But what does this have to do with my heroine?
Turns out Adelard carried on a years-long conversation with his English nephew. They discussed the unknowns of the day, including the tides, Earth's position in space, and animal physiology. They also catalogued a pharmacopeia of herbs and remedies and, of most importance to my story, they discussed alchemy. Greek fire, gunpowder, acids--Adelard gave his nephew the keys to the whole of Arab scientific learning.
And I imagined Adelard's nephew to be Meg's grandfather.
Meg found her father's fat, tattered book and opened its warped pages. Dozens of letters from his great-uncle Adelard of Bath, the famous tutor to King Richard’s late father, Henry II, stuck out in disarray. She knew the feel of each one. She could no longer see the ornate scrawls of the famous scholar's handwriting, but she knew what they contained: observations, translations, theories about the natural world, and tales of Adelard's far travels. Fingering the pages, she imagined the wonder of that distant relative, his travels and his marvelous ideas. Her father had read the letters to her and Ada like a balladeer, sparking curiosities and questions. They added to the undertaking with their own observations, ever expanding the scope of their family heritage.
Thus her scientific learning and her sister's understanding of foreign languages comes with a basis in legitimacy. It's still pretend, of course, but it made me feel better knowing the possibility was there--a tiny window in history where an isolated Englishwoman might have access to the wonders of medieval science.
Of course, she suffers for it. That sort of knowledge looks a lot like, well...witchcraft!
No comments:
Post a Comment