We had a great launch. The site was Feddish, an eatery off Fed. Square, where the Melbourne Writers' Festival is being held. At 11am I turned up early, to find most of the choir there, dressed in matching black, with the altos going over their (difficult) part. Robyn Annear the launcher turned up next, with her patent spring-loaded booklauncher on a trolley. Julian Warner (in cravat) was MC, and at 11.30, with a full house, we began. First up was actress Suzette Williams, reading Sarah Harrison's account of a near shipwreck, from 1884. Then the choir, with yours truly on soprano, heartily sang 'For those in Peril on the Sea'. Next I spoke, giving thanks to various folks, & telling the story of how I sold the book (had a loud conversation with film critic Jim Schembri at a publisher's party, & the publisher overheard!). Then the steampunk costumers grouped around Robyn (also in costume) as she spoke. Her finale was to launch the book into the air via the booklaunch machine! People I had not seen in years, including writer Alice Nunn were there, and I am told we sold out of books. Thanks to all concerned for their contributions. At 2.30 the same day I would interview Kim Stanley Robinson, but that is for another blog.
Endings and beginnings
The advance copies of WOMEN WRITERS AND DETECTIVES IN C19TH CRIME FICTION arrived tonight, delivered by a neighbor. They had gone to her door by mistake two days ago, and she doesn't get out much...
It was a very strange feeling, holding 20 years of research and hard thought in my hands. The book had begun with a question that arose when I was working as a researcher for Stephen Knight, crime fiction historian extraordinaire. It was: who was the first woman to write crime fiction? If it was Anna Katherine Green (1878), then what about Mary Fortune and her stories in the AUSTRALIAN JOURNAL from 1865? And Seeley Regester, alias Metta Fuller Victor,who wrote the first American detective novel (1866-7)? I ended up rethinking the whole early history of crime fiction, arguing it arose as a collision of elements from various genres, including true crime, melodrama, the Gothic, etc. There were some gorgeous moments, as when I realised Catherine Crowe's bestselling novel SUSAN HOPLEY: OR, CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE not only preceded Poe's 'Morgue' by months, but contained three female detectives. Or when legal historian Deborah Williams kindly shared with me her research into a real-life amateur detective, who successfully investigated the murder of her husband in the 1600s.
In the end it became a PhD thesis, then a book with a theme of professionalism, how women writers successfully worked with the crime form and themes, despite being then excluded from the major source matter: the law and the police. As Val McDermid pointed out in her preface, they used their imaginations! And proved every bit as deadly as their male counterparts.
I can see future research arising from the book (the real story behind the Anonyma books, for instance), but for the moment, that chapter of my researching/writing life is closed. Go forth, little book, and be read! I can't break a bottle of sparkling burgundy over your bow, but I raise a glass to your passage, from my study to the uncertain waters of the wider world.
Grace under pressure
Someone asked me what do you do with an adverse review.
Oho!
Well, it is not a good look to quote said review on your blog with sarky comments. Especially if you are famous. One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was: 'Never respond to a review in writing, no matter how just your cause, because you will just look like a sensitive little plant.'
While getting other people to write in angrily on your behalf is another response, if there are too many it will look like you slipped them $20 each to do so.
Challenging the reviewer to a duel has its attractions, but remember that a murder rap is really, really, not worth it. Unless you want to write true crime, of course.
I personally like the C19th tactic of inviting the reviewer to tea and being devastatingly nice to them. 'Would you like some guilt with your scone?'
Many are the ways of revenge and the best tend to be subtle, and cold.
The Problem with Permissions
On another tack, the problem with permissions...
If you quote, you have to establish whether your source is within copyright, and if so, who owns the copyright. This sort of thing can lead to a detective search.
Case study: I find a scintillating and very quotable letter from Victorian writer and Spiritualist Catherine Crowe to her publisher Robert Chambers. The problem is that it has not been published, and is therefore in copyright. But the letter is in a Kent library, and in typescript form (clearly not its original C19th ms). Where the original might be is unclear.
I take a punt that it might be in the National Library of Scotland. Jim Seccord's recent fascinating study of Chambers and his book 'Vestiges of the History of Creation' (a precursor of Darwin's 'Origin of Species') states the NLS holds Chambers family & business papers.
I contact the NLS and they ask me to cite the opening lines of the letter. Hurray! they hold it, but they don't own the copyright. The person who does has recently died. But they will try and find out who the new copyright holder might be.
How like a detective novel.
Tiptoe through the minefields
Some more thought on reviewing, occasioned by new literary magazine, KILL YOUR DARLINGS, which I just reviewed, so I can't repeat the comments I made here until Sunday week.
Reviewing is a minefield, unless you happen to live in a deep dark cave. One of the problems is social. At one of last year's Xmas parties, I chatted to a political satirist, who surely would have a professional hide like a turtle. When I remarked that I'd reviewed him, he put his hands up in defensive position and said: "Don't tell me! Don't tell me!"
"Favourably," I quickly added.
He thought. "Ah, yes, I remember your review." Pleased smile.
We got on just fine after that, with topics of chat including literary drinking groups to avoid (don't go to the Standard Hotel, he says).
But what if I'd given him a good reviewerly kicking?
In that case I wouldn't have mentioned the review. And if he was a true professional, he wouldn't have mentioned it either. We could still have chatted, but with a thin, frail, layer of ice.
