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Government advisers don’t regularly admit to handling doctored evidence. The extent to which the actions of recent governments may have depended on documents which had been ‘sexed up’ have—quite rightly—become matters for close scrutiny in recent decades. But the modern world has no monopoly over the spurious, the doubtful, and the falsified.

The post Dodgy dossiers in the Middle Ages appeared first on OUPblog.

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How would we know if a medieval person had a neurological disorder? If we did know, would it be possible to pinpoint the type of condition? What insight can we gain about the practical impact of disorders on medieval life? Fortunately, a physical record survives that provides a reliable window into the health of medieval people—or, at least, those who were able to write.

The post Scrutinizing the script of the medieval ‘Tremulous Hand of Worcester’ appeared first on OUPblog.

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To read Chaucer today is, in some measure, to read him historically. For instance, when the poet tells us in the ‘General Prologue’ to the Canterbury Tales that the Knight’s crusading experiences include service with the Teutonic Order in ‘Lettow’ (i.e. Lithuania), comprehension of the literal sense or denotation of the text requires some knowledge of fourteenth-century institutions, ideas and events. More generally, discussions of whether the Knight’s crusading activities are being held up for approval or disapproval in the ‘General Prologue’ (i.e., of the text’s connotations), are likely to cite the various, and sometimes conflicting, ways in which the morality of crusading, and in particular of campaigns mounted by the Teutonic Order against the Lithuanians, were regarded in Chaucer’s own day.

Certainly modern literary critics, influenced by Marxism, feminism, post-structuralism, new historicism, post-colonialism and cultural materialism, have adopted historical and sociological approaches to literary works from the past and have insisted on the need to read medieval literature in its historical context. Whereas the works of canonical authors such as Chaucer were once admired because they were seen to speak to ‘us’ across the centuries about some timeless ‘human condition’, their works are now likely to be seen as interventions in the social, political and ideological conflicts of their day. Medieval literary texts have thus come to be understood as instances of, in Helen Barr’s words, ‘social language practice’, being to some extent determined by contemporary social structures, institutions, conventions and behaviour but also, in turn, participating in them and even influencing them.

This historical approach to literature has been particularly evident in the field of Chaucer studies. As a result of the influence of scholars such as David Aers, Stephen Knight, Paul Strohm, Lee Patterson, Peggy Knapp, and David Wallace, Chaucer’s work has come to be read ‘socio-historically’, as an engagement with the social and political problems and ideological conflicts of the late fourteenth century. For those who proceed in this way, the context needed for understanding the Canterbury Tales is not only other literary texts of this period, such as Langland’s Piers Plowman or Gower’s Confessio Amantis, but also documentary sources of the day, such as Richard II’s 1387 proclamation against slander or the 1382 letters in which aldermen of the city of London were accused of treason at the time of the Peasants’ Revolt.

Nonetheless, the popularity of historicist approaches to Chaucer’s work has by no means led to agreement about the poet’s social or moral outlook. On the contrary, as Helen Cooper said, there is ‘probably less of a critical consensus’ about Chaucer’s meaning and purpose ‘than for any other English writer’. Three main approaches to Chaucer’s social meaning can be identified, even though any one of them may be adopted by scholars writing from a wide range of theoretical perspectives and deploying many different critical vocabularies. Firstly, are those critics who regard Chaucer’s views as being essentially in accord with conventional medieval defences of social inequality. Here Chaucer’s crusading Knight would be seen as an ideal representative of the estate of ‘those who fight’ and, along with the Parson and Ploughman, as providing a yardstick by which to measure the other pilgrims and the extent to which they perform their proper social functions, put the common good before their own immediate pleasure or profit, and live in harmony with their fellows. Secondly, there are those who adopt the opposite view, discerning a more radical Chaucer, one who highlights the inadequacies of traditional social morality and who offers a challenge to ‘official’ conceptions of the prevailing order. Here Chaucer’s description of the Knight would be seen as challenging traditional chivalric ideals or as questioning the validity of the crusades. Thirdly, there are those who consider Chaucer’s work to be in some way open-ended and so as allowing the members of its audience to make up their own minds about the moral questions – for instance, about the Knight’s willingness to kill in the name of religion – which it raises.

Yet, despite this well-established ‘historical turn’ in literary studies, medieval historians have generally been loath to turn their hands to interpretation of works of imaginative literature from the Middle Ages. Perhaps it is now time for historians to respond to the interdisciplinary approaches which literary critics have pioneered? If we need an historical approach to make sense of Chaucer’s meaning, perhaps historians themselves have something to contribute to the debates about the social meaning of the Canterbury Tales which have so engaged literary critics? In the past, medieval historians have often taken a rather naive approach to works of imaginative literature, asking to what extent Chaucer’s pilgrims constitute accurate ‘reflections’ of the social reality of the time or seeking ‘real-life models’ for the pilgrims amongst the people with whom Chaucer was (or may have been) acquainted. If they are to contribute anything of value to current debates about Chaucer’s social meaning, they will need a need a sensitivity to the specifically literary nature of his texts, including his medieval conceptions of satire and irony and the ways in which his work adapted traditional literary stereotypes and generic conventions. Literary critics have offered us the possibility of a dialogue between the disciplines; it is now up to historians to respond to this invitation, to familiarise themselves with the scholarship in the field and to offer their own assessment of Chaucer’s engagement with the ideology of his time.

Headline image credit: The Canterbury Pilgrims Copper engraving printed on paper. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

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Saxo, who lived in the latter part of the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, was probably a canon of Lund Cathedral (then Danish). He was secretary to Archbishop Abslon, who encouraged his gifted protégé to write a history of his own country to emulate those of other nations, such as Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People. Absalon was able to supply him with a large amount of material for the last few of the 16 books, since, as a warrior archbishop, he had taken a leading part in the Danish campaigns against the Wends of North Germany.

The work is a prosimetrum: in the prose text of six of the first nine books he inserts poems, some quite substantial. The poetry, he tells us, are meant to put into metrical Latin verse some of the narratives he had found in old Danish (and probably Icelandic) heroic poetry, such as the courageous last stand of Biarki and Hialti defending their lord after a Swedish ambush on the royal palace. He begins his work with the ancient myths and legends. Only in Book Nine does he start to introduce recognizable historical figures, after which he proceeds through the lives and activities of Viking kings, like Cnut the Great, ending in 1185 with the earlier exploits of Cnut Valdemarson.

As the first major Danish historiographer, Saxo’s work is a valuable fund of material, even though, like many other medieval historians, his accuracy can be variable, sometimes to the extent of invented episodes. Nevertheless, he is the only source available for the period in places. Needless to say, he favours the Danes against neighbouring nations like the Swedes and Germans (we read a great deal about the treachery of the Holy Roman emperors), and he is keen to trace the rise and spread of Christianity in Scandinavia.

The Gesta Danorum is also the first outstanding work of Danish literature. Although his general style is elegant and complex, he is a consummate story-teller, and when he gets his teeth into a good yarn, he can relate it in a swift and lively manner. These narratives range from heroic tales like those told of the tough old warrior Starkath (who loathes German sausages), to the tender love stories in Book Seven, and the early books are full of dragons, witches, wizards, and tales of the supernatural, including one about a vampire. He often displays a wry sense of humour, as in the story about a drunkard who persistently defies the king’s edict forbidding the brewing and consumption of beer. One of Saxo’s claims to literary importance is his inclusion of the first-known version of the Hamlet story. The fortunes of his Amleth foreshadow those of Shakespeare’s hero in surprising detail.

Whatever his merits as a historian, and they are many, Saxo always provides a good read, and generations of Danish children have been entertained by his tales at their mother’s knee.

The post Who was Saxo Grammaticus? appeared first on OUPblog.

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Erskine, Kathryn. 2014. The Badger Knight. New York: Scholastic.
(Advance Reader Copy)

After the great plague, Adrian's father is overly protective. Having lost his wife and daughter, he is determined to protect his12-year-old son, Adrian.  Small and weak, Adrian has what we now call asthma and albinism. In the rural England of the 1300s, however, his condition is more often considered an unlucky and unholy affliction - rendering him only slightly more popular than Thomas the leper. Though he is quick of mind, skillful with a bow, and able to scribe, he is nonetheless treated as useless and dim-witted.

When the Middle March is threatened by war with the Scots, Adrian sees a chance to prove his mettle,

"Soon I hear the blacksmith's voice in my head: Nock! Mark! Draw! Loose! I spread some dirt under my eyes to counteract the bright sun, close my left eye, ready  my bow, and take aim at a single leaf fifty feet away.  On my second shot I split the leaf in two.  As I practice more, I can hit a leaf on my first try, even when it sways in the breeze.  I lose all sense of time and feel like I'm in another world.
Until I hear someone approach through the woods, and I grab my arrows, stowing them quickly with my bow inside the tree trunk.  For years I haven't been discovered and I don't intend for anyone to find me out now.  When the time is right, I will shock them all.  So I stand and look up at the branches to divert attention away from the trunk and to show that I'm simply addlepated Adrian looking at birds."

The Badger Knight is a historical fiction adventure that touches upon many common themes (bullying, friendship, gender bias, coming of age, survival, the nature of good and evil) as Adrian goes off to war and becomes a man - not by might, but by right.

 "... I'm reminded of Nigel and his search for the truth.  I think of what I always believed to be truths — Scots are pagans, thieves are bad, knights are noble, girls are weak, war is glorious — and how these "truths" aren't real at all.  They're things I was taught or everyone believes, just as all people who look like me are supposedly angels or, more often, devils.  I didn't believe Nigel when he said that scribing was power, that seeking the truth and sharing it is mightier than being a soldier.
     Now I see what he means."

The Knight Badger is rich in historical details - from the minor particulars of everyday life and the societal hierarchy of medieval England to the gruesome manner of medieval warfare. Erskine offers an unvarnished look into the lives of serfs, tradesmen, religious leaders, free lances, city street urchins, and robber barons. The author's thoughts on the nature of war are on display throughout, but readers are encouraged to come to their own conclusions and examine their own biases.

A solid adventure story that should appeal to boys and girls.  There is room for a sequel.

On shelves 8/26/14.   Target audience: ages 8-12, Gr 3-7
352 pages

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Brother Hugo and the Bear

Written by Katy Beebe

Illustrated by S. D. Schindler

Eerdmans’s Books for Young Readers        4/01/2014

978-0-8028-5407-0

Age 5 to 9     34 pages

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“It befell that on the first day of Lent, Brother Hugo could not return his library book. The Abbot was most displeased. ‘Our house now lacks the comforting letters of St. Augustine, Brother Hugo. How did this happen?’ The precious book, it turns out, has been devoured by a bear, and so Hugo must replace it. Letter by letter and line by line the hapless monk crafts a new book, all the while being trailed by a hungry new friend who thinks that the words of St. Augustine are truly far sweeter than honey. Based loosely on a note found in a twelfth-century manuscript—and largely on the creative imaginings of the author—this humorous tale will surely delight readers who have acquired their own taste for books.”

Opening

“It befell that on the first day of Lent, Brother Hugo could not return his library book. ‘I shall have to inform the Abbot of this, Brother Hugo,’ said the librarian.”

Review

Poor Brother Hugo. A bear has eaten his library book, an important book for the monastery. To replace the book, Brother Hugo must first travel to a neighboring monastery and borrow their copy of St. Augustine. Throughout Lent, Brother Hugo must then copy this book, by hand, for his own monastery. Brother Hugo and the Bear is a beautiful book. The text looks similar to what one would find in an old religious tome, as do the illustrations. Each paragraph begins with a large letter entwined with grape vines and leaves. As for the bear, with those long claws it is no wonder Brother Hugo did nothing when the bear snatched St. Augustine from his hands.

I like that all the monks help Brother Hugo prepare the things he needs to make the new book. It was not as easy as going to the stationary store, as it would be today.The monks had to make everything by hand. The illustrations show an offended goose walking away from the monks who now have a bird feather from which to fashion a pen. There is so much detail in Brother Hugo and the Bear one must take a second look after reading the story. I love illustrative detail and Brother Hugo and the Bear is loaded with details. I noticed a bear hiding behind the tree as Brother Hugo leaves the other monastery. Even the two dogs look in the direction of the tree and bark. Alas, that bear never follows Brother Hugo. (Maybe he is a scout for the book-eating bear.)

While Brother Hugo toils at his writing task, outside a noise begins to disturb the entire monastery.

“Brother Hugo, Brother Hugo,” the other monks cried, “what can be the meaning of that noise? It is like the rumbling of a great stomach or the whooshing of a fierce wind.”

The monks had the answer. It is the bear, hungry for another masterpiece. Once more, Brother Hugo’s friends help ensure the safe return of the original St. Augustine to the other monastery. On his return trip, Brother Hugo takes along a sack from his friends along with the original book. The contents of that sack should keep the bear at bay while Brother Hugo travels. The author uses the word “snuffling” to describe the noise made by the bear. I looked this up and found that the bear has a cold and is trying to breathe through a blocked nose. Poor Bear. I really like this word and hope kids take the time to look up its meaning.

I was surprised to learn the story is based on a true event. There was actually a bear who ate a book in the middle ages. How interesting. The backmatter goes into detail as to how the author, first-time children’s author Katy Beebe, came up with the story. The illustrator also has a page of notes in which he compares his process to the process used by the monks. It is all very interesting. The best part of the book is the twist at the end. Almost to the door of the other monastery, the bear has caught up to the monk and waits. Brother Hugo has run out of offerings. What he does next will momentarily shock the bear. And here lies the twist, which is funny on many levels.

Children will enjoy Brother Hugo’s story. I think they will love the watercolor and ink illustrations, which are gorgeous. The friendship and cooperation displayed by the other monks is a wonderful message for children. Curious children will love learning of the work involved in producing a book. While the monks do this all by hand, the ingredients are the same: one author, several pages of paper, lots of ink, a copier to make many books, and the cover and binding. Brother Hugo is the copier of his time. All the monks were copiers. They copied books to keep the words available, you know, in case a bear eats the original book.

BROTHER HUGO AND THE BEAR. Text copyright © 214 by Katy Beebe. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by S. D. Schindler. Reproduced by permission of the publisher, Eerdmans Books for Young Readers.

Purchase Brother Hugo and the Bear at Amazon—B&N—Book Depository—Eerdmans—your local bookstore.

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Learn more about Brother Hugo and the Bear HERE.

Meet the author, Katy Beebe, at her website:   http://katybeebe.com/

Meet the illustrator, S. D. Schindler, at his website:   http://sdschindlerbooks.com/

Find more books at Eerdmans Books for Young Readers website:   http://www.eerdmans.com/youngreaders/

an Imprint of Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company     http://www.eerdmans.com/

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Also NEW in 2014 by S.D. Schindler

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Filed under: 5stars, Children's Books, Debut Author, Favorites, Library Donated Books, Picture Book Tagged: Benedictine monks, children's book reviews, Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, Katy Beebe, La Grande Chartreuse, Middle Ages, parchment, picture book, S. D. Schindler, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company

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Here are two fiction picture books that feature days gone by.  Both books should tickle your fancy and make fun read-alouds for school-aged children, K-2.

• Kulling, Monica. 2014. The Tweedles Go Electric. Ontario, Canada: Groundwood. Ill. by Marie Lafrance.

The year is 1903, and the Tweedles are "a bunch of fuddy-duddies," according to their neighbors.  Even when they finally decide to purchase a car, neighbors still tease them,

"People don't want that.  They want noise.  They want smoke." ... "They want a car to sound and smell like a car." 

But rather than the latest in gas-powered autos, the Tweedles purchase a smart, green, electric car.

With a wink and a nod to the future of "green" transportation and women's empowerment, it is the youngest of the Tweedles, Frances, and the "green" car that save the day when an emergency arises.  Marie Lafrance's illustrations accurately evoke the era and are reminiscent of the style of Hergés Tin Tin.

• Beebe, Katy. 2014. Brother Hugo and the Bear. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.  Ill. by S. D. Schindler.

With an illuminated capital I and leafy, gold flourishes, Brother Hugo and the Bear begins firmly planted in the monastical world of the Middle Ages,

It befell that on the first day of Lent, Brother Hugo could not return his library book.

As the reader soon discovers, a bear has eaten the monastery's beautifully illuminated copy of St. Augustine's letters.  It becomes Brother Hugo's job to painstakingly recreate the massive, illustrated tome —a job that "would have been full easy to endure if it had not been for the snuffling."  The source of the snuffling, we soon discover, is the bear, who has not yet had his fill of letters.  Written and illustrated with great reverence for the early art of book-making, Brother Hugo is humorous as well.  Both the monk and the bear are earnest and joyful.

Based loosely upon a true story, Brother Hugo, in combination with its included Historical Note, Glossary, Author's Note, and Illustrator's Note is illuminating for both children and adults.

  A Discussion Guide for Brother Hugo and the Bear.

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Cheryl Carpinello’s Book Blog Tour 2013 The King’s Ransom .. .. Young Knights of the Round Table: The King’s Ransom by Cheryl Carpinello Jodi Carpinello, illustrator MuseItUpYoung 5 Stars Back Cover:  In medieval Wales, eleven-year-old Prince Gavin, thirteen-year-old orphan Philip, and fifteen-year-old blacksmith’s apprentice Bryan are brought together in friendship by one they call the …

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The books I read on the cruise:

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers.  Great news!  The sequel to this book, due out in April, has been announced, Dark Triumph. 

    This series revolves around a convent dedicated to the god - or saint - Mourtain, Death!  As Brittany struggles to maintain independence against onslaughts from France, the nuns and novices of this abbey learn arts of subterfuge and murder.  Our heroine, Ismae, is Death's daughter.  This may be a metaphor for the circumstances of her birth, or it may be truth.  She is trained to be an assassin and her specialty is poisons.  Poisons have no affect on her.

At the age of 17, Ismae is sent to the Duchess' court to kill the man Duval, supposedly a traitor to the Duchess.  Oh, if only Duval was not so honorable, so righteous, so immune to her charms and so awesomely handsome! 

The themes of women as objects, pawns in political negotiations, and victims of physical and sexual abuse underline the strategy and subterfuge of this novel.  LaFevers' writing moves the reader right into the plot.  There is plenty of treachery, here, plenty of doubt, plenty of action, and enough romance to quicken the pulse from time to time.

It looks like Dark Triumph will follow the adventures of another novice, the dark unpredictable Sybella.  Good.  She has an important role in Grave Mercy.  I hope her story ends well.

Check out LaFevers website to find out just how much of this novel is set in history and how much is fiction.  Fascinating!


I also read;
Return to the Willows by Jacqueline Kelly
In Search of Goliathus Hercules by Jennifer Angus
Froi of the Exiles by Melina Marchetta

And a get-healthy book and some magazines and ...that's about it.

Tomorrow, I will review Goliathus Hercules.

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Recommended for ages 8-14.

Kids definitely learn more about Islam today in the public school curriculum (at least here in California) than I did as a kid, but I don't think the curriculum includes the many fascinating facts explored in author/illustrator Bryn Barnard's new book, The Genius of Islam, an attractive, elegantly illustrated slim volume suitable for older elementary school or middle school children.

An introduction gives a brief introduction to Islam as "one of the world's great religions, one of history's most important civilizations, and one of the foundational cultures of the West."  Barnard stresses Islam as much more than an Arab religion, but rather a diverse culture which borrowed elements from other cultures and faiths and rewarded minorities in its midst, including Jews and Christians.  Barnard then addresses a number of areas in which Islam was particularly influential, including calligraphy, mass-produced paper, the introduction of what we now call Arabic numerals, architecture, astronomy, health care, agriculture, technology, optics, musical instruments (particularly percussion instruments), and translation of ancient writings.

Why are we not more aware of all these contributions?  Barnard explains that during the Renaissance, some influential European thinkers such as the 14th century Italian poet and scholar Petrarch resented the influence of "infidels" on Western philosophy and learning, and demanded that all Arab learning be expunged from European university education.  Indeed, Muslim philosophy was removed from European university curricula, and Europeans began to take credit for Muslim inventions.  Over centuries, Muslim contributions to Western thought were "barely a memory."

Barnard is an extremely talented artist as well as a capable writer, and the book is abundantly and attractively illustrated in full color.  Back matter includes suggestions for further reading as well as recommended websites.  Endpapers show maps of the Islamic World in 622-750 and 1500 CE.

One issue I had with this book is that since it ends at the Renaissance, it leaves the reader wondering whether the contributions of Islamic civilization ended then as well!  Nonetheless, this book serves as a worthy introduction to a fascinating subject, and would be an excellent addition to classroom and school libraries.

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Recommended for ages 12 and up.

Looking for a book for teens who crave adventure, romance, strong heroines, an exotic setting, and plenty of action?  Look no further than Daughter of Xanadu, a 2011 release from author Dori Jones Yang. 

East meets West in this tale of the fictional Princess Emmajin, an athletic, strong, and of course, beautiful young woman who keeps up with her male cousins in all kinds of athletic pursuits.  She dreams of joining the army of her grandfather, the Great Khubilai Khan, and pursuing glory on the battlefield for the Mongol Empire, then at the peak of its power.  She does not wish for a conventional pampered life of court gossip, marriage, and children like the other young Mongol women who surround her.

But Emmajin does not expect to meet the charming, handsome young merchant Marco Polo, who has come from the faraway city of Venezia, in a land known as Christendom not yet ruled by the Great Khan.  They meet in Xanadu, the Khan's summer palace, with its lush and magical gardens described in Marco Polo's writings and inspiring the famous Coleridge poem.  The Great Khan himself has asked Emmajin to get to know the foreigner, with the goal of gathering intelligence on their distant country.  But as she gets to know the young Marco, she finds herself more and more attracted to his foreign ways, from his clear light eyes, to his strange red beard, to his lilting accent when speaking the Mongol tongue, to his gift for storytelling.  As her heart's desire of galloping off with the army seems more and more possible, she is torn between her loyalty to Khan and country and her attraction to Marco.

What an impossible situation!  I had always been loyal to my Khan and my people, but now that loyalty required me to make an enemy of a man who was gradually becoming my friend.  

When fate makes them traveling partners as they travel across China together, Emmajin with a military unit and Marco on a secret mission for the Khan, they grow even closer as they share many adventures together.  But Emmajin knows Marco is not a suitable match as a husband for a Mongol princess--how will she handle this forbidden attraction, when his casual touch makes her tingle with desire?

Without divulging the ending, let me just comment that while the conclusion will probably please teen readers, it does not seem totally in keeping with the Mongol culture described in the novel.  Nonetheless, I greatly enjoyed this swashbuckling tale of medieval China.  Emmajin is a passionate, strong heroine facing difficult life choices as she is torn between her own ambition, what society and her family expect of her, and her forbidden attraction to a foreigner.  Marco Polo himself has great appeal as a foil to the valiant Emmajin.  The book is carefully researched, and full of fascinating vignettes of the exotic Mongol culture and how, at this time period, it was changing and absorbing more Chinese elements, ranging from palace architecture to the drinking of tea.  Also noteworthy is the contrast between Mongol and Christian culture of the time, and the Khan's interest in hosting foreigners from all over the world.

Some readers may think the author was inspired to write this tale by the legend of Mulan, the Chinese woman who dressed like a man to take her elderly father's place in the army, she was in fact by the story of Ai-Jaruk or Khutulun, an a

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Recommended for ages 12 and up.


Teenage fans of historical romance and time travel books are sure to love this new release by novelist Emily Whitman, whose first book, Radiant Darkness, was a #1 IndieBound pick.

Addy, a fifteen-year-old servant in 1913 England, dreams of a life she'll never have--a life of luxury, where people won't be constantly reminding her of her lowly place in society.  But when she finds a mysterious old elevator in the dusty attic of her eccentric employer, Mr. Greenwood, she can't help herself and goes inside--pushes the button--and winds up in the 13th century.

When she's mistaken for the lord of the castle's fiance, the noble Lady Matilda, ward of the king, Addy doesn't bother to correct anyone, and despite many faux-pas in the beginning, begins to enjoy her role as future lady of the manor.   Her fiance is away, and she is able to spend her time with the handsome young falconer, Will, "the lad with the eyes," learning to train Pilgrim, her very own falcon.  Will's beginnings are shrouded in mystery, since he showed up lost as a toddler, with no trace of his parents to be found, a mystery that will be solved by the end of the novel.  The reader is not surprised to find that Will and Addy fall in love, but what is our lovely heroine Addy/Matilda to do?  Sir Hugh is soon home, eager to wed Matilda, get her in his bed--and receive the generous dowry the king has promised to bestow on Matilda's husband.  Addy lives in fear that someone will recognize that she is not Matilda--should she try to take the lift back to her own time, leaving behind her beloved Will, the one she loves?

Whitman makes Addy a very appealing heroine, and this book is full of romance--not only the relationship between Addy and Will, but other elements of romance literature--from shipwrecks to dungeons to golden wedding gowns fit for a fairy princess.  The secondary characters in the book are lots of fun as well, including Beatrix, who serves as Lady Matilda/Addy's maid and reminded me of the nurse in Romeo and Juliet with her earthy ways.  Lord Hugh, Lady Matilda's fiance, is a blustering warrior, a contrast to the gentle Will who coaxes falcons--and young girls--to do his bidding.  The story has its share of surprising twists to keep the reader turning the pages, which culminate in the requisite happy ending (at least for this genre!)

This book would be a good addition to school and public libraries as well as a very entertaining read for any teens or even adults who enjoy historical romances.  The gorgeous cover should help attract teen readers (for more on the cover shoot, check out this link), who I'm convinced with be quickly engaged by Addy's story when they start reading.  

If you would like to sample the first few chapters of this book, you can do so on Harper Collins website.

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In no particular order, some books and links we’ve been enjoying this week:

Adam of the Road. Newbery-winning middle-grade novel by Elizabeth Janet Gray. We’re only on chapter three so I haven’t much to share about it yet, but it’s delightful so far. Young Adam’s father is Roger the minstrel, and Roger has been off at a respected minstrel school in France while Adam’s attending school at St. Alban’s. And now Roger’s coming back, and I’m guessing from the title that Adam’s hopes will be fulfilled and he’ll be accompaning his father on a journey. Loads of good rich detail here, including, in today’s chapter…

“Sumer Is Icumen In,” a very old English round which I remember learning in a college poetry class. We had to memorize it in Middle English. (I can also still recite the opening of The Canterbury Tales, thanks to Prof. Kraus.) The modern English translation of “the bullock sterteth, the bucke verteth” had, naturally, my nine- and twelve-year-old daughters in hysterics. Scatological humor has no statute of limitations.

I only knew it as a poem, not a musical round, so of course we had to turn to YouTube for help. Here’s a pretty rendition, and here’s a sound file with sheet music for two parts.

Beanie reread the St. Alban chapter of Our Island Story to refresh her memory of that tale, since the book opens on the feast of St. Alban in the town of St. Albans. On a walk, Adam and his friend Perkin pass the crumbling remains of the old Roman buildings from centuries past, and we found pictures of these at Wikipedia.

We’ve been reading bits of Gombrich’s A Little History of the World as well as sections of The Rule of St. Benedict. I looked all over for our copy of The Sailor Who Captured the Sea, a lavishly illustrated picture book that tells the story of the Book of Kells, but it hasn’t turned up yet. (We read it a few months back, though. It’s around somewhere.) Sister Wendy’s The Story of Painting has a nice section on the Book of Kells and the Lindisfarne Gospels.

We keep returning to this Society for Creative Anachronism Flickr pool for illuminated manuscripts. I am repeatedly astonished by the lovely things people can make. Beanie shares my fascination and is eager to try some of the tutorials at the Gutenberg School for Scribes, another SCA gem.

I had the pleasure of seeing this scroll (scroll down, no pun intended) up close in real life at our visit to Sandra Dodd’s house in Albuquerque last month. It’s a marvel. (I am still kicking myself for forgetting to take pictures during that visit. It was a good lesson for me—I kept my camera close at hand for the whole rest of the trip!)

Yesterday, by chance, Rilla pulled Barbara Cooney’s picture book Chanticleer and the Fox off the shelf, based of course on the Chaucer tale. We meant to read that (again) today but we got distracted by our old timeline, the one Jane and I began in New York in the year 2000 and which graced our wall for the four years we lived in Virginia, filling up with colorful entries. It has been in a roll on top of a cabinet the whole time we’ve lived here in California because I couldn’t find wall space for it. Too many bookcases! But today it occurred to me that it would fit in the living room/dining room if we stretched it

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More middle ages fun.

Heraldry:

• Roger the Herald’s Notes on Blazonry. Wonderful starting point for learning the language of blazonry. Sable, a lion rampant or, in chief azure three stars or. There’s a game set inside a story, for helping you get the lingo down. Huge hit with Beanie.
• design your own coat of arms
• SCA heraldry primer

Illumination:

• Book of Kells
• The Fitzwilliam Museum’s interactive animation about how illuminated manuscripts were made. This is extremely cool.
• SCA Illumination pool at Flickr Examples of recent work by members of the Society for Creative Anachronism. It awes me to see people putting so much care and time into mastering this ancient art. There is some truly stunning work here.
• Gutenberg School for Scribes. A how-to site for people interested in trying their hand at illumination.
• Wynn the Wayward. An SCA scribe doing breathtaking work.

Books:

Some Dover activity books have made their way into our middle ages collection.

• Design Your Own Coat of Arms (has been a big hit)
• Life in a Medieval Castle and Village Coloring Book
• Medieval Fashions Coloring Book (there’s a paper dolls version too—these are some of those gorgeous books by Tom Tierney).

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Earlier this week, Phoebe asked me to recommend books about the middle ages. Jane and I went around the house pulling things off shelves. The timing was perfect, because I’ve been on a bit of a middle ages jag myself, ever since reading The Perilous Gard (so good! read it!!) which though set in Tudor times, at the cusp of Elizabeth’s reign, is a retelling of the medieval Tam Lin ballad. I’ve listened to perhaps a dozen different renditions of Tam Lin over the past few weeks; this one by Bob Hay and the Jolly Beggars is my favorite.

Thanks to Lesley Austin, I recently discovered listography and have begun collecting my middle-ages links and resources there. Very very handy. I’ve got lists going for folk songs & ballads, the art of illumination (something I kind of swoon over), heraldry, medieval history (highlights), and a list of the middle-ages-related books we found around the house. I’ll past the contents of the book list below.

There are many other wonderful books about the middle ages, of course. (Rosemary Sutcliffe and Susan Cooper novels come to mind.) These are the just the ones we happen to own. Feel free to leave your own lists (or links to your lists) in the comments!

Disclaimer: Not all of these are appropriate for younger children, and some of them I haven’t even read.

HISTORICAL FICTION AND FANTASY

• Son of Charlemagne by Barbara Willard (middle grade novel; historical fiction)
• Black Horses for the King by Anne McCaffrey (YA novel; Arthurian legend–how “Lord Artos” got horses strong enough to carry knights in full regalia)
• Otto of the Silver Hand by Howard Pyle
• What Happened in Hamelin by Gloria Skurzynski (middle-grade novel; Pied Piper)
• The Minstrel in the Tower by Gloria Skurzynski (chapter book; brother & sister on perilous quest)
• The Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli (middle grade novel; knighthood, woodcarving; battle)
• The Great and Terrible Quest by Margaret Lovett
• The Apple and the Arrow by Mary & Conrad Buff (William Tell)
• Adam of the Road by Elizabeth Janet Gray
• Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott
• Knight’s Castle by Edward Eager (set in 20th century, but the children wind up inside the Ivanhoe story, sort of)
• A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver by E.L. Konigsburg (middle-grade novel about Eleanor of Aquitaine, mother of King Richard the Lion Heart and King John)
• Catherine Called Birdy by Karen Cushman

CLASSICAL MEDIEVAL STORIES including Arthurian tales

• Medieval Romances edited by Roger Sherman Loomis & Laura Hibbard Loomis (Perceval, Tristan & Isolt, Sir Gawain & the Green Knight, etc; this was the text for my college Medieval Lit class & has a highly quotable intro, which I shall indeed quote in the next post)
• Favorite Medieval Tales by Mary Pope Osborne, illustrated by Troy Howell (Finn Maccoul, Beowulf, Arthur, Song of Roland, Sir Gawain & the Green Knight; Robin Hood, Chanticleer)
• The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle
• The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White (Arthur)
• The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck (based on the Malory)
• The Story of King Arthur by Tom Crawford (Dover Children’s Classics)
• The Canterbury Tales
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