‘It’s all Greek to me’: the story behind my Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie

 

I have just completed a little book with a rather long title, Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon. It is being published by Bloomsbury Academic and is sister to the Pocket GCSE Latin Etymological Lexicon which I wrote in 2022. It seems like yesterday that I wrote a History Girls’ Blog on the Latin Lexicon: tempus fugit.

Both books were written with GCSE students in mind but their purpose is just as much to showcase the beauty and ubiquity of these ancient languages, so the lexicons may also appeal to logophiles (‘logos’ meaning ‘word’ and ‘phileo’ ‘I love’). The GCSE vocabulary lists provide a finite list of words to work on: 450 in Latin and 409 in Greek, which was just right for this project.

To accompany the words we wanted to include illustrations and I am very fortunate that one of the members of my Classics Club, now a good friend, is a local artist, Barbarann Lang. Barbarann has exhibited work at many galleries including the Royal Academy and I had seen first-hand her beautiful paintings. So I was delighted when Barbarann agreed to create 20 illustrations for the lexicon. As Barbarann began, she became so inspired by the Greek that 20 illustrations increased to 32 and, thanks to the skill and vision of Bloomsbury and our typesetters, RefineCatch, all 32 are included in the lexicon. The illustrations really bring the Greek words to life and it seems fitting to unveil a few of them here. Hand-delivering Barbarann’s beautiful book of illustrations to the Bloomsbury offices was one of the most important and enjoyable tasks in producing the lexicon.

Bloomsbury’s London office © Caroline K. Mackenzie

Barbarann’s book of illustrations is on the table, hidden in the ‘Classics Club’ bag, the design for which is also one of Barbarann’s creations

Christopher Nolan’s much-anticipated film of the Odyssey is being released in July this year. I am not sure if the characters will be speaking any Greek but the film may inspire some audiences to read Homer’s Odyssey either in translation or even the original Greek. Homer’s Iliad was behind the 2001 film Troy in which the character of Achilles was played by Brad Pitt and it was that character who inspired Barbarann’s illustration for ‘soldier’.

'stratiotes’ (soldier) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘strategos’ (general or commander) gives us the word strategy

Greek derivatives give us the names of many subjects on the school curriculum, e.g. biology from ‘bios’ (life) and ‘logos’ (study, story, account), geography from ‘ge’ (earth) and ‘grapho’ (I write), mathematics from ‘math-‘ (the past tense of the verb meaning I learn). The letter ‘π’ has an important role in school Maths lessons. You may also recognise the Greek letter ‘μ’ (mu) to indicate ‘microgram’, or ‘μg’, which appears on cereal packets, prescriptions and vitamin bottles.

During the recent pandemic (meaning affecting ‘all people’), the Greek alphabet was used by the World Heath Organisation (‘WHO’) to label key variants of the virus that causes COVID-19. WHO issued a press release explaining that it had ‘assigned simple, easy to say and remember labels… using letters of the Greek alphabet’ because ‘scientific names can be difficult to say and recall, and are prone to misreporting.’  [Ref. below.]

On the subject of the alphabet, please don’t let that deter you from dipping into some Greek! (The word ‘alphabet’ itself derives from the names of the first two letters in the Greek alphabet, ‘alpha’ and ‘beta’.) In the introduction to the lexicon, the Greek alphabet is set out in full (24 letters) together with the English equivalents and a pronunciation guide. It is easier to learn the Greek alphabet than you may think and is, indeed, a very satisfying exercise. As Cicero reminds us in his book How to Grow Old our mind is a muscle that must be exercised as we get older and Cicero’s protagonist declares that he is teaching himself Greek in his old age. A good alternative to Sudoku, perhaps? In this blog, I have transliterated the Greek and I leave you to try the alphabet challenge another day.

‘geron’ (old man) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘geron’ combined with ‘iatros’ (doctor) gives us the word ‘geriatric’

Cicero recommends learning Greek to keep one’s mind healthy in old age

You will know the word ‘aristocracy’, which derives from ‘aristos’ (best, very good) and ‘cratos’ (rule) but lesser-known is the word ‘kakistocracy’. ‘kakistos’ means ‘worst’ or ‘very bad’ and therefore a kakistocracy is a ‘government by the least suitable or competent citizens of a state’ (definition from Oxford Languages English Dictionary on Google).

Writers may enjoy some of the literary terms derived from Greek such as ‘oxymoron’, a figure of speech by means of which contradictory terms are juxtaposed, for various effects, e.g. ‘bitter-sweet’ (Sappho, Fragment 130). (Thank you to Kevin in Classics Club for this excellent example!) In Greek ‘oxymoron’ means ‘clever-stupid’ or ‘sharp-blunt’ and is an oxymoron itself. The term ‘hyperbole’ derives from ‘hyper’ (beyond, exceeding) and ‘bol’ from ‘ballo’ (I throw or fire at) – a great origin for a word meaning excessive exaggeration. It was thanks to one particular writer that I had a suggestion for the first Greek word in the lexicon, ‘agathos’ (good). I had asked one of my tutees, named Sophie (Greek for ‘wisdom’), to help me think of a derivative and, after careful thought, she replied ‘Agatha Christie’s books are really good’.

Writers may worry that they suffer from ‘cacoethes scribendi’, an uncontrollable desire for writing or getting one’s work into print, literally ‘a bad habit for writing’. The ‘scribendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘scribo’ (I write). Politicians are perhaps afflicted with ‘cacoethes loquendi’, an uncontrollable desire for talking, especially for giving speeches, literally ‘a bad habit for speaking’. The ‘loquendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘loquor’ (I speak). To complete this tricolon of bad habits I came across a phrase, ‘ego-surfing’, which means searching for one’s own name on the Internet (‘ego’ meaning ‘I’ in both Latin and Greek.)

I was also delighted to discover the phrase ‘chronique scandaleuse’: a story or gossip full of scandal, or unsavoury ‘tittle-tattle’, deriving in part from the Greek word for time, ‘chronos’ (hence chronology, anachronism, synchronise, etc). This pairs nicely with a new word I learned for the Latin Lexicon: ‘quidnunc’. It refers to an inquisitive, gossiping person - the Latin literally means ‘what now?’.

Gardeners often mention the ubiquity of Latin in horticulture and Greek also plays a part here: an aspidistra is an evergreen plant with shield-like long, tough leaves, ‘aspis’ being the Greek for ‘shield’. Rhododendron derives from ‘rhodon’ (rose) and ‘dendron’ (tree). ‘Hippeastrum’ is the name of a group of plants, including the Amaryllis. It is possible that the name was given due to the flowers resembling a horse’s head, as ‘hippos’ means ‘horse’. ‘Hippos’ also gives us a derivative which is a firm favourite among my tutees: hippopotamus, literally a horse of the river (‘potamos’).

‘hippos’ (horse) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘hippos’ gives us words such as ‘hippodrome’ and ‘hippopotamus’

‘potamos’ (river) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘potamos’ gives us words such as ‘hippopotamus’ (horse of the river)

A favourite derivative of my own is ‘cryptozoology’: the study of and search for (potentially mythical) creatures, such as the Loch Ness monster. The Greek words are ‘crypto’ (I hide) ‘zoon’ (creature) and ‘logos’ (study). I was also delighted to discover that ‘theobroma’ is the name of a group of flowering plants including the cocoa tree, ‘theobroma cacao’, the beans of which are used to make chocolate. Theobroma means ‘food of the gods’ – no wonder chocolate tastes so good.

On the subject of food, I wonder if you or any of your friends are a ‘deipnosophist’: someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite. The term derives from Deipnosophistai, the title of a work by Athenaeus (c. AD 200) and is a combination of ‘deipnon’ (dinner) and ‘sophos’ (wise).

‘deipnon’ (dinner) illustration © Barbarann Lang

A ‘deipnosophist’ is someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite (‘sophos’ means ‘wise’)

Medicine abounds with Greek terminology. Anything ending in ‘iatric’ signifies medical care or treatment such as ‘geriatric’ (see above) and ‘paediatric’ from ‘pais’ (child). I enjoyed learning this fun fact: the ‘pylorus’ is the opening, or gateway, from the stomach to the intestines, from ‘pyle’ (gate). The condition of having a ‘phobia’ is from the Greek word meaning fear, giving us xenophobe from ‘xenos’ (foreigner), arachnophobia from ‘arachne’ (spider) and triskaidekaphobia, literally fear of three plus ten, i.e. thirteen. Anatomy can be useful when studying Greek and Roman sculpture, too: one of the most famous statues of Aphrodite (Roman name, Venus) is titled ‘callipygian’ meaning ‘with beautiful buttocks’. 

You may have been watching the Winter Olympics and Paralympics recently. Not only did the Olympic games themselves originate in Greece but the word ‘Paralympics’ owes its name to the Greek language, ‘para’ meaning ‘beside’ or ‘parallel to’. In these games athletes, from ‘athlos’ (prize) often put themselves through agony, from ‘agon’ (contest or trial), to be the best.

The final proofs for the lexicon have arrived for checking and, as I scanned the pages, one particular entry struck me as rather autobiographical (‘autos’, self, ‘bios’, life, ‘grapho’, I write), and I wondered if my subconscious had directed my choice of derivatives…:

phil or -phile (suffix meaning ‘lover of’ or ‘loving’) bibliophile (book-lover), Hellenophile (Greek-lover), linguaphile (language-lover), logophile (word-lover), oenophile (wine-lover)

It is perhaps therefore appropriate that the cover image depicts the interior of a ‘kylix’ (drinking bowl) which would have been used at a ‘symposium’, or drinking party. When the lexicon is published I shall definitely be toasting it with a glass of Bacchus, a locally grown wine named after the Greek and Roman god of drinking, theatre and parties. ‘Cheers!’

Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie is available for pre-order: https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/pocket-gcse-greek-etymological-lexicon-9781350572119/
Publication date: 9th July 2026 Ebook and 6th August 2026 Paperback.

With many thanks to everyone at Classical Studies Bloomsbury, especially Alice Wright, Lucy Batrouney, Lucy Springett, Sophie Beardsworth and Sarah Ruddock; to Merv Honeywood and his team at RefineCatch; and to Barbarann Lang.

Thank you also to Caroline Lawrence, Dr John Taylor, Dr Margaret Mountford and Dr Daisy Dunn.

www.carolinetutor.co.uk

Ref: https://www.who.int/news/item/31-05-2021-who-announces-simple-easy-to-say-labels-for-sars-cov-2-variants-of-interest-and-concern.

Show not tell by Mary Hoffman

I have never liked this piece of advice to writers. Sometimes you just need to tell. It can be something small or trivial that you don’t want to spend time developing into a full-scale scene with dialogue, just a little throwaway so you can get back to your main plot. But how does this fit when writing historical fiction?


The facts are known and can’t be changed. So you go back to “what did X think about this?” or “How did it affect Y?” “Surely, this would have thrown the whole court into an uproar?” 

Tomb of Katherine Swynford and Joan Neville, Lincoln

 

I recently discovered that another HG is writing about the same person that I am. It’s OK; this happens. And it was pretty much bound to happen with regard to this character – a significant female figure in fourteenth century England, who had been the main character in a romantic novel of the 1950s. I made sure not to read that novel until I had written the sixth draft of mine.

I was surprised when I did. Anya Seton made the woman far more of a peasant than I had, with her coming to court in London when she was already fifteen. In my version, she has been brought up there by the king and queen of the time, alongside a bevy of princes and princesses. (Can you have a “bevy” of males? Must check for future reference). 

Anyway, how do you “show not tell” the events of historical characters’ lives? And I had chosen to depict almost the whole of my main character’s life, from the age of about two to her death bed fifty-one years later. Maybe this was a bad idea? I hadn’t done it before. I needed to establish her as having been raised at the English court, with all the advantages of a noble upbringing but no fortune. So she could speak French, go hunting and hawking, do embroidery, read the popular romances of the time and behave with elegance and decorum whether dancing or singing. 

Joan Neville and her ladies

 

Put like that, it does sound a bit dull. But her life was actually full of adventures. Imagine what it must have been like to grow up as a virtual orphan, with no memory of the mother who had given birth to you and little information about your father. Your foster parents were the king and queen of England and you were raised in their lavish court settings of palaces and castles, doing as you were instructed, brought up like a little princess yourself. Your one constant was your older sister, who one day told you that she was being sent away to serve the second prince and his wife in Ireland. And you were only seven.

Then you would certainly know what it was like to be alone. I invented bedfellows for her, my little girl, and friends too. Always having to remember that the fork and handkerchief had not yet been invented. Her exquisite manners had to take this into account. Her clothes were hand-me-downs but of the greatest quality, as they had previously been worn by princesses. 

John of Gaunt feasting in Portugal

 

Her favourite prince, the king and queen’s third son, John, was ten years older than her but he said her name properly, as they had in Hainault. He lived with his oldest brother, the Prince of Wales, though my heroine didn’t know what that meant. Prince Edward was heir to the English throne and did not marry until he was thirty. And then he chose a woman older than him, his father’s cousin, who had been married twice before. Imagine! The most eligible bachelor in Europe, a great soldier and charismatic leader, eventually settled for a woman he had known since they were children. A Papal dispensation had to be sought, not for the first time in Joan’s case.

And when Prince John, at the age of nineteen, married a great heiress, he asked nine-year-old Katherine to go with him and serve his beautiful wife. Of course, she went. There were many women serving the great countess, as she was then, and my Katherine was proud to be one of them, once released from the English court, even in the lowly role of the girl who rocked the wooden cradle. 

The marriage of John of Gaunt and Blanche of Lancaster

 

An awful lot here to show and not tell and we are hardly into Katherine’s eventful life. Before long, she has the task of rocking the new princess, Philippa, named after the queen. Prince John is happy. His lovely wife has given him a healthy daughter and there would surely be more to come, male heirs among them. Against this background of court life and princely behaviour, Katherine muses about her life and destiny. As she grows older and the Lancaster nursery is filled with more boy and girl babies – not all of whom survive – Katherine becomes closer to her mistress and is given more responsibility.

You see? I am telling, not showing you. But the novel does both. Through their pregnancies, childbirths and experiences, the two women become friends. Katherine is tall and strong for a girl of fifteen and her employers think it is time for her to have a husband. She fears it might be a warty old man but it is in fact a sturdy knight, Sir Hugh Swynford, who is the same age as her lord. She goes with him to his Manor in Kettlethorpe, but is often needed back in the Lancaster household, whenever her husband has to follow Duke John overseas.

Of course, their marriage is consummated and Katherine is already pregnant when Sir Hugh has to go abroad. She and the duchess both give birth within a month, Blanche to the healthy little boy, who will one day be Henry IV and Katherine to a little girl called Blanche. Such a lot to cover by showing not telling. But the feelings of women for their children, not knowing if their babies will live or die, can’t have been a million miles away from how mothers feel now, whether in grand courts or humble cottages. 

Henry IV

 

That’s what I had to show. Women labouring to bring forth babies, who might be heirs to a great destiny, or brides to European monarchs, or simply the children of a humble knight and his lady. Katherine herself ponders on this: “Men donned armour and rode off to battle, where they might catch an arrow in their face or have an arm lopped off. They seemed extraordinarily brave to me. And yet women did something harder. How could Bess know about the pains of childbed, when she had no children of her own?”

Both genders have to face painful difficulties. To fight or to give birth, to risk marriage or enter a religious house. Of course the men could do both. And occasionally the women too. Think of Margaret Beaufort, who helped her only child become king, was married four times and yet became a “femme sole” while her last husband still lived. 

Margaret Beaufort

 

My subject, Katherine Swynford, née Roet, was a wife and a widow, a person of great piety, who bore four children out of wedlock to Prince John, while he was married to another woman. Is it a remarkable medieval love story, since the couple do marry in 1396 and their children – the Beauforts – are legitimated and go on to be the ancestors of several English monarchs? Katherine’s son by her first husband is the boon companion of Henry Bolingbroke, raised with him in the same nursery, born only a year later. He is no aristocrat but his half-brothers and half-sister are, through their father. That half-sister, Joan, gives birth to Cecily, who marries Richard of York and is mother to Edward IV and Richard III. 

 

Henry VII’s claim to the throne came from his mother Margaret (see above), whose father was descended from John and Katherine’s union. And hence Henry VIII, Edward VI and Mary Tudor; the line ends with Elizabeth I. Six English monarchs is not bad for the line of a woman whose father was a humble knight at the court of Edward III.



Oh, and Katherine's sister Philippa married Geoffrey Chaucer. Thereby hangs another story, to tell or show.

 

Corruption and Currying Favour in Medieval France

by Kristin Gleeson

Did you ever wonder where the term “currying favour” came from? I have to say it wasn't something that I ever wondered about, rather it was a term I used without thought. Recently, during an online course I took on Medieval music manuscripts, I was fascinated and astonished to discover that the term had its origins in a 14^th century satirical manuscript entitled, “Le Roman de Fauvel,” a multimedia work credited to the poet and royal chancery clerk, Gervais du Bus, with additional text by Chaillou de Pesstain and musical contributions by composers such as Phillippe de Vitry. It’s a tale of villainy, corruption and a massive abuse of power at the highest ranks. 

Hmmm. Some old tales are never old for the times. 

Through poetry, prose, music and illustrations the allegorical and cautionary tale describes the rise to power of its main character, Fauvel. What captures the imagination much more is that Fauvel is a horse. A tawny (“fauve” is tawny in English) horse that starts his life in an ordinary Parisian stable and becomes dissatisfied with his life and surroundings which he feels is too ordinary by half. As if his wish to have more manifests itself into reality, Lady Fortune comes to him and, despite her sister Raison’s (Reason) efforts to stop it--because fortune is blind—Lady Fortune puts him in the royal palace stables. In his luxurious stables he is heavily pampered while flattery, praise and adulation are heaped upon him. Fauvel believes he deserves it all. People come from far and wide to brush him, to “curry Fauvel.” No muck shall be allowed to get on Fauvel. Everyone wants his favour. Even the church showers him with attention and praise.

Fuavel’s power and influence over France’s leaders and ecclesiastical affairs increases. His numerous vices and capriciousness result in religious corruption and turmoil that cause irreparable damage to the Church and taint society. Eventually Fauvel builds his own palace and is surrounded by unscrupulous courtiers like Envy, Deceit, Vanity and Perjury. The depictions of Fauvel in the manuscript begin to take on human characteristics, with features like the king. His behaviour becomes more human like too. Eventually, he claims divine and royal authority. People come from all over to ask his advice. His rule becomes tyrannical and the only people who benefit are beautiful women and those who share Fauvel’s views. The world becomes inverted. Fools gain power, wise people are silenced. Justice is corrupt and in fact the justice court praises Fauvel. 

Fearing Lady Fortune might withdraw her favour at any time. Fauvel decides to seek a wife to consolidate his power. He chooses and proposes to Lady Fortune because he feels that marrying her would give him a huge amount of control over the world. But Fortune is fickle and she rejects Fauvel and suggests he marry Lady Vainglory instead. The wedding is attended by many guests and a joust is held with competitors that represent vices, but also the virtues, like Humility and Chastity, who hope that they might bring about Fauvel’s downfall. Ultimately, the Virtues triumph but Lady Fortune consoles Fauvel with the promise that he though he will eventually meet his demise, he will continue to spread evil through his children.

“Le Roman de Fauvel” is a dark tale with many symbolic names and metaphors that reflect the dark times France was experiencing under the tumultuous and corrupt reign of Philip IV.  The king’s administrators flagrantly abused power, admidst a growing civil service who pandered and flattered Philip IV. There was great abuse of financial power that exploited the Jewish population through heavy taxation, debasing the currency and confiscating property. The country was also in conflict with the Papacy over taxing the church. The Pope refused to allow it but King Philip ignored his pronouncement. The Pope threated to excommunicate the King if he didn’t recognize the Pope’s ultimate authority. Philip responded by sending people to arrest the Pope and imprison him. The Pope was freed but he died soon after. Another Pope was elected but he was afraid of Philip and under Philip’s direction, he moved to Avignon where the King controlled him.

The manuscript, in all its multimedia glory, gives a very vivid representation of the time period. The music is an amazing and progressive mix of monophonic and polyphonic pieces that demonstrate the avant garde skills of the internationally acclaimed Ars Nova school of music that was emerging in Paris under the master himself, Phillippe de Vitry. Filled with varying rhythms and complex multi voice parts, “Le Roman de Fauvel” shows France at the forefront of Western musical evolution and innovation with music and words that mock a corrupt society. One scene, for example, shows a noisy Charivari group wearing masks protesting Fauvel’s rule as loudly as possible, banging pots, pans, shouting and blowing horns. Another scene contains a song with political double speak of confusing and hypocritical statements, while another section parodies the clergy as singers chant words of power. 

The illustrations are lively and vividly portray the story as well as the society at large. In one illustration Fauvel sits on a throne a crown on his head, draped in a royal mantle. There are scenes showing important officials currying Fauvel with a brush that graphically tell the story of corruption that is unfolding.

The prose and poetry, written in French and Latin, is so clever and telling with the names and story so compelling. The name itself “Fauvel” was an acronym in French for Flatterie, Avarice, Villainie, (in old French “v” is also “u”) Varieté (fickleness), Envie, Lacheté (cowardice). In the tale it describes how the “vice of “fauvelling” and the muck of avarice occupy the throne and the highest position of the court. A gift makes the judge favourable and gentle. Law passes into exile, and the judgement of the law is up for sale. ‘O what infection, how great the boils that daily plague the flanks of the mighty!’ Flattering voices ascend to power. Fraudulent justice rules. ‘Merciful God apply her counsel’!” (translation from “Labouring in the Midst of Wolves” Reading a Group of ‘Fauvel Motets” by Edward H. Roesner, from Early Music History Vol. 22 (2003).

Through time, the term “currying Fauvel” became widespread across Europe, and in England, it eventually transformed into, “currying favour”. Though “Le Roman de Fauvel” may not be a modern piece of streamed content, or a wild film satire shown on Netflix and YouTube, it is a truly relevant and amazing piece of work that has many parallels today, some of them fairly chilling.

My series, The Renaissance Sojourner, set in 15th century Europe, Africa and the Silk Road shows many aspects of the political intrigue and corruption of that era. 

Kristin Gleeson is a USA Today Bestselling author of In Praise of the Bees from the Women of Ireland series as well as Celtic Knot series, The Highland Ballad series and Rise of the Celtic Gods series. Visit her website at www.krisgleeson.com

 

 

Naked Places: researching the history of a location before the humans came - by Janet Few

Much of history is about people and their actions but people live in places and that geographical context impacted on their lives, making it a valid subject for investigation. Local historians study inhabited places and perhaps the gaps in between but why are those people there? What made the original settlers decide to set up home in this place, rather than that place? What was there about that particular location that turned it from an uninhabited landscape into a settlement? If we are interested in the history of a community, we need to strip back the layers to look at the bare bones of the place, before the people, before the families and before the built heritage. Imagine early potential settlers viewing the possibilities of a site as somewhere to begin to create a community. What did they need? Firstly, relatively accessible building materials, in order to create shelters. A source of food was essential both for themselves but also for livestock. Equally, a nearby supply of water and fuel would have been essential. Another consideration would be safety, was this a site that could be easily defended? To a lesser extent, accessibility was a consideration. How easy would it be to come and go?

The underlying geology is relevant. Early settlement, as opposed to temporary, nomadic habitation, means farmers; the nature of the soil is key to what might, or might not, grow well. Consider what building materials might have been available, remembering that building materials are often very difficult to transport. Is there local stone, or wood? Many places are now deforested, compared to the past. The size and composition of our woodlands has changed over time. It is likely that early settlers would have found a much better supply of native trees than the current landscape suggests.

Fresh water is essential to drink, to irrigate crops and to rear livestock. Where are the rivers, lakes, ponds, streams and springs?. Rivers silt up and change their course, lakes can be man-made, so the historic availability of water could be different from more recent water supplies. Water is also a key method of transportation and of course, this can also be salt water, so coasts are relevant here.

The climate is another significant factor, again we need to take account of changing weather patterns. Was this an area that was suitable for growing crops? Would early settlers have been likely to have had drought, floods or extremes of temperature to contend with? Terrain is also important for building and farming potential, it is difficult to do either on very steep ground.

What about defence? In this respect, a steep slope might be beneficial. How could those living at a particular site have protected themselves from enemies? Spotting potential intruders before they got too close was an advantage, as was a site that might appear impressive and impenetrable to enemies. Concealment in a situation, such as a hollow, that might make a settlement escape notice, could be an alternative method of protection. Take into account how easy it might have been to defend a particular location. Accessibility is a double-edged sword, as inhabitants needed to be able to come and go but that very accessibility could be an invitation for potential invaders.

Study a location in terms of what food it might provide. What native animals and birds might have been hunted? Consider the aquatic environment; water courses and the sea are sources of food too and it is likely that freshwater fish would be eaten in significant quantities. Take into account the fact that a number of native wild animals of the past are now extinct, or at least do not survive in a particular location in the way that they might have in earlier centuries. Plants, bushes and trees are all potential food sources, both for humans and livestock. What native plants and trees might have grown wild in your place of interest in centuries gone by? The names of places, landmarks, and geographical features sometimes indicate what might have been found in the way of flora and fauna.

Devoid of humans your ‘naked’ place might have still more to offer potential settlers. What about the raw materials? This goes beyond building materials. What other resources could settlers use? Was there coal, iron or other minerals that could be exploited? Salt was very valuable, so is there a salt pan nearby. What is available to the inhabitants for fuel? In the absence of much wood or any coal, was there peat or furze? Maps can provide clues about the resources that might have been utilised.

As we study the history of the human race, it is important to set those people within the context of their community and that includes the ‘naked’ landscape, the place before the humans came. By doing so, as we add people to the place, we have a better understanding of why they are there.

Thockrington, Northumberland © Janet Few

The Audacity of the Historical Novelist by Sheena Wilkinson

When I describe myself as a historical novelist, what do I really mean? Historical fiction is a such a broad term. I’ve written stories set in the past which don’t focus on actual historical events but instead bring to life the daily realities of the era (for example, my Fernside books), and stories about ordinary (fictional) people’s lives being affected by real historical events, such as my Irish trilogy; Mrs Hart’s Marriage Bureau and Miss McVey Takes Charge).

My Irish Trilogy (1916-1921) 

What I have not (yet) had the courage -- or the audacity -- to tackle is what many people consider ‘serious’ historical fiction, which takes as its central characters actual historical figures (for example, Wolf Hall or Hamnet) or stories which involve the interplay between real and fictional characters, for example, Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy. This is partly because I prefer making things up; partly because I balk at the research involved – I LOVE research but not to that extent; partly because I haven’t (yet) come across a real figure that I would want to write a whole novel about. 

My 1930s novels 

But mainly because, however confident I might be in my research of the facts, once you turn a ‘real’ person into a character in a novel, they become a fictional construct. And in today’s post-truth climate, maybe I am chary of misrepresenting the past. 

 

Only occasionally have I written about real historical people. For example, in Miss McVey Takes Charge, the main characters become embroiled in the real-life Battle of Holbeck Moor, an anti-fascist demonstration in Leeds in 1936 and I describe Sir Oswald Mosley, based on contemporary newspaper reports and newsreels. This was straightforward enough: the events of the day were not so widely documented as to give me an embarrassment of material, but well enough to give me the facts I needed. 

 

This was enough to help me place my fictional characters in the scene: 

But we see Mosley here from a distance, and it is hardly stretching historical truth for me to add the authorial description of ‘arrogant’ to the leader of the British Union of Fascists. 

 

Only once have I had the audacity to ascribe a made-up opinion to a historical figure. Here’s the context and the justification. In Star by Star (2017), all the characters are fictional, and their lives are deeply affected by World War 1; the 1918 flu pandemic and the 1918 general election. When real-life suffragist, socialist and republican Winifred Carney stands for election in East Belfast, a seat she had no chance of winning, Stella, for whom Carney is a heroine, is excited. She is even more thrilled to realise that Rose, another fictional character, knew and liked Winifred Carney:  

 

Some of the people in the Republican cause weren’t happy when I married Charlie – him having fought for the King, but Winnie stood by me. She said the cause of labour was bigger than that. 

 

As Carney herself, in 1928, married a Protestant Somme veteran, I felt this was an acceptable opinion to ascribe to her. Funnily enough, last Saturday I was walking my dogs in a park in Belfast when a small dog ran up to make her friends. Her name, her owner informed me, was Winifred. When he went on to tell me that his other dog was Constance I asked, Carney and Markiewicz? Another assumption, but an equally intelligent one – the dogs were indeed named after those two Irish Republican figures; their owner was an expert, and we had a very jolly chat in the course of which he agreed that Winifred would very likely have said such a thing to anyone in Rose’s position.

 

Of course we can never know for sure. I suppose that every historical novelist must decide what balance of ‘real’ and ‘fictional’ events is appropriate for their work, what the implications of these choices are, and how audacious they decide to be. 

 

 

 

 

Fly Me to the Moon - Joan Lennon

"Do you remember where you were on 20 July, 1969?" *

I do. I was in the basement with my dad. We'd put the TV down there because it was so hot in a Canadian summer (no air conditioning) and the basement had a particular sort of cooler air that I would recognise the feel of immediately if I ever came across it again. Walter Cronkite's mellifluous voice filled the room. It took a long time, but then, at last, those fuzzy images... We had gone to another world.

We'd finally done it.

Humans have been intrigued by the possibility of going to the Moon for as long as there have been people to look up into the sky. (Not a statement I can prove, of course, but I'm sure anyway.) Here are just a few of the ways we know that have been mooted. "It's only science fiction!" you may say. And I say, "There's nothing 'only' about it." Without science fiction, without that human desire to get there in any way we can imagine, the space programme would never have got off the ground. So to speak.

How about Lucian of Samosata in 125 CE, who imagined a waterspout so huge it carried a ship on a lunar adventure? (Meeting the inhabitants - three-headed vultures - did not go well.)

  

  

Or Francis Godwin in The Man in the Moone, or a Discourse of a Voyage Thither, who suggested using swans for the trip in 1638? 

How about using a hot-air balloon, which was Edgar Allen Poe's take on the problem in 1835, or building your rocket out of anti-gravity metal, as H.G. Wells proposed in 1901, or blasting off using a cannon a la Jules Verne, as illustrated by Henri de Montaut? 

Have a look at Georges Méliès' fabulously chaotic and wonderfully badly acted Le Voyage dans la Lune ** from 1902, loosely based on Verne's novels. It was the first science fiction film and well worth a watch, if only for all those ladies' legs on display! Heavens to Betsy***! 

20 July, 1969 was only a continuation of all those wild, weird and wacky dreams. Though there's nothing 'only' about it.

* Yeah, all right, lots of you weren't even born.

** Not the music I would have chosen, but you can always mute it.

*** Etymology unknown.

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

Egyptomania by Rachel Louise Driscoll

 

When we think of the rise of Egyptology, I think our minds often turn to the Art Deco Egyptian Revival of the early 20^th century with Carter and Carnarvon’s hunt for King Tutankhamun’s tomb.  In truth, however, Egyptomania – the fascination for all things Ancient Egypt – actually goes back further than that to the 19^th century and beyond.  This was a time when the Rosetta Stone arrived at the British Museum, the hieroglyphs were deciphered in a race between Britain and France, Amelia Edwards published her travelogue about her journey through Egypt and Nubia entitled A Thousand Miles up the Nile, and characters like “Mummy” Pettigrew hosted their infamous ‘mummy unwrapping parties’.

Thomas Pettigrew, known by the sobriquet “Mummy” Pettigrew, was a 19^th century surgeon and antiquarian.  A founding member of the British Archaeological Association, he had a particular interest in mummies.  In fact, upon the association’s first meeting in 1844, he apparently unwrapped a mummy in front of his rapt audience.  At such events, Pettigrew was known to not only unroll the layers of cerement from the preserved corpse, but to also perform an autopsy.  His knowledge of Egyptian mummies was so vast that in 1834 he wrote a book called A History of Egyptian Mummies.  This work explored the ancient funerary rites of the Ancient Egyptians, including how sacred animals were worshipped and embalmed. 

Animals such as cats, dogs, ibises, crocodiles, and birds of prey were amongst the varieties of species that the Egyptians would embalm, usually through a connection to a deity.  For instance, Bast or Bastet had the head of a cat, and so cats were seen to be linked to the goddess.  Ibises were sacred and Thoth, the god of wisdom and writing, was often depicted with the head of an ibis.  Many of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses had heads of animals, or were said to be able to change their form into animals – like Isis and Nephthys, the sister goddesses who could shapeshift into kites.  Mummified animals would often be buried at the sites that held particular worship for the deity that was associated with that animal, such as the many cats buried at Bubastis, the centre of Bast’s cult.

The term Egyptomania, from the Greek ‘Egypto’ for Egypt and ‘mania’ for madness, came into existence around the end of the 18^th and start of the 19^th century, and this was really when we see the increased interest in this ancient land and its rich history.  Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign helped Egyptomania take flight, inspiring the hunger for antiquities.  There was such a cry for mummies and relics when travellers came to Egypt, that supply could not meet demand, and mummy snatchers and forgers became commonplace.  New laws arose to halt illegal digs and export, but the black market of antiquities continued as more travellers sought to own their piece of history, and the mummy unwrapping parties continued.

Despite this, there were many who came to Egypt with permits for legal digs, amongst them the Scottish archaeologist Alexander Rhind, and Margaret Benson, the first woman to be granted a permit by the Egyptian Department of Antiquities.  In cases such as these, when the excavations were carried out in accordance with local law and with historical insight, provenance was not lost and knowledge increased.

I’m not sure that Egyptomania has waned so very much over the years.  Even today in the 21^st century, Egypt is consistently ranked as a top tourist holiday destination, the Egyptian exhibits are often the busiest in museums, and we still feel a thrill of excitement over the mysterious hieroglyphs on obelisks and papyri.  The age of Egyptomania is far from over, although I’m glad to say we no longer host mummy unwrapping parties or have powdered mummy in our paints like the Pre-Raphaelites did. 

If you’d like to read more about the 19^th century fascination for Ancient Egypt, then I highly recommend Amelia Edwards’ book A Thousand Miles up the Nile.  For fictional writings from the era, you might like Lost in a Pyramid; or, The Mummy’s Curse by Louisa May Alcott (quite a different read from her more famous Little Women series) and Some Words with a Mummy by Edgar Allan Poe.  And to investigate these themes further, especially those of mummy unwrapping parties and the preservation of Egyptian history, you might enjoy my debut novel Nephthys which explores the 19^th century fascination for Ancient Egypt in a gothic tale of adventure, mythology, and mystery.  Nephthys is available in hardback, with the paperback out with Vintage in February 2026, and you can purchase your copy here.  If you’re in the US, it is published by Penguin Random House under the title The House of Two Sisters, and is available here.

Instagram: @rachel.louise.driscoll