Guest Blogger Faith Van Horne on Atlantis in Fiction

Both Faith Van Horne and I have used myths of Atlantis in our latest books. Here’s what she says about it.

Playing with Mythic History

By Faith Van Horne

When I started germinating ideas for my young adult novel Slideways, I didn’t know the lost continent of Atlantis would play a part. But by the time I’d created my character sheets and a rough plot outline, it had become a significant setting for the story. However, the version of Atlantis that appears in Slideways bears little resemblance to the island Plato described. I researched the myths, played with the history, and came up with an alternate past (and present) that suited my novel.

One of the possible locations for the mythic isle is the present-day island of Santorini. In its factual history, Santorini experienced a huge volcanic eruption that caused the center portion of a much larger island to slide into the sea. According to Plato, Atlantis sunk into the ocean in a single day. Santorini now consists of the crescent shaped shell of the former island, which fit my story perfectly. Why? Because in my version, that round crater wasn’t caused by the earth crumbling beneath the waves. Instead, the guardians of Atlantis magically transported the island to a separate dimension. But they didn’t have the power to take all of the land with them, so a small portion remains here in our world.

In my mythic history I blend magical elements with fringe science, which is quite fun. See, in Slideways, all magic that once existed originated from Atlantis and flowed outward to the rest of our world. But instead of using magic for peaceful ends, non-Atlanteans used it to gain wealth, power, success in war, and so forth. The elders of Atlantis became enraged, and vowed to cut off their peaceful nation, and its power, from  those who would abuse it. So they cast a powerful spell that cut out the center of Atlantis from our world, transporting it to its own. In (pseudo) scientific terms, they created their own pocket universe. A single element, the book containing the spell, was hidden here to maintain the
existential barrier.

The upshot of the island’s departure was that our magic source was cut off, leaving us with our current mundane existence. But the spell couldn’t last forever. It required constant magical energy to keep that universe intact. As Slideways opens, our antagonist discovers the hidden spell book and removes it. This simple action leads to cracks in reality when the spell begins to lose its power. Our heroine, because of her psychic bond to one of Atlantis’ residents, is the only one able to keep the growing rip between the worlds from destroying them both.

I took liberties with the myth because an Atlantis sitting in a pocket universe was better for my story than one destroyed by the ocean. Instead of rising from the sea, the island causes magical stress on our world, creating tension in the novel. And that’s what writing fantasy fiction is all about.

If you want to try a fun writing exercise, start with an existing myth. Then take that story and ask, “What if?” Turn the satyr into a bank teller, or Tartarus into a greasy spoon. Even if you don’t come out with a fully fleshed story, you’ll have a great time.

Bio: Faith Van Horne’s short works have appeared in Beyond Centauri, Poor Mojo’s Almanac(k), and other online publications. She is the blog editor for Loconeal Publishing, an independent book publisher in Ohio. She keeps her own blog at faithvanhorne.blogspot.com, and you can follow her on Twitter @fvanhorne.

 

Realms of Fantasy publishes 100th issue

Santa Rosa, CA, May 29, 2011: Kim Richards Gilchrist, publisher of Realms of Fantasy announced today the publication of the magazine’s milestone 100th issue.

Realms of Fantasy celebrates 100 issues with an expanded 100 page issue for June 2011

Gilchrist mentioned in her announcement that in celebration of the magazine’s 100th issue, the June 2011 issue is 100 pages long with additional fiction and art, more columns, a few surprises and the debut of poetry with work by Ursula Le Guin. The popular column, Folkroots,
addresses the subject of fairies.

“We’re thrilled and excited to share this issue with fantasy fans. You only get to 100 once and so we’ve pulled out all the stops,” Gilchrist says.

The June 2011 issue of Realms of Fantasy ships to stores this week. It will be available in a digital format from the Realms of Fantasy website on Saturday, June 4, 2011. For more information and a sneak peek at what’s in store for the 100th issue, visit Realms of Fantasy online at www.rofmag.com

Guest Blogging at Genre Author

A.J. Walker was kind enough to let me drop by and blog about the Red and White Springs of Glastonbury. In Beneath the Hallowed Hill, White Spring is failing. Anne and Michael must discover why and restore the flow. In this blog, I talk about why these two springs are so important.

 

Guest Blogger Sue Burke on Spanish Arthurian Romance

Since my latest novel is set in Avalon, it partakes of the rich mythology of that land, particularly the Arthurian romance and Grail quest stories. In this post, Sue Burke talks about what happened when the Arthurian legends came to Spain and how attitudes toward romance made a once popular novel almost disappear.

Written out of history

By Sue Burke

Who loves a love story? Literary critics don’t when they can label it a romance novel, especially if it includes sorcerers and magic. As a consequence, Europe’s first best-selling novel has been almost completely forgotten.

That book is Amadis of Gaul by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo, published in 1508. Never heard of it? Maybe you’ve heard of Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes, published in 1605. That book made fun of Amadis and the hundred other novels of chivalry that were its sequels and spin-offs. But the whole thing started much earlier.

Tales of King Arthur, Merlin, and the Knights of the Round Table were brought from Britain to France by Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1170, and from there they spread across Europe. In Spain in the early 1300s, troubadours fused the virtues of the knights Tristan and Lancelot into Amadis, the greatest knight in the world, who lived well before King Arthur but in the same medieval fantasy world.

Amadis loved Princess Oriana, the most beautiful woman in the world, in a story filled with sorcery, enchanted weapons, giants, monsters, and magical locales, along with lots of blood-spattered jousts and battles. Rodríguez de Montalvo collected older versions of the story and created a “corrected and polished” edition for the newly developed printing press. It soon became the most popular book of its time, a favorite of kings, New World conquistadors, and illiterate peasants who attended public readings of books the way we now go to movies.

But even before then, it had critics whose complaints still sound familiar. Around 1380, Spanish chancellor Pero López de Ayala wrote a poem against “books of idle pursuit and proven fictions, Amadis and Lancelot and invented falsities, in which I wasted long hours of my time.”

As novels of chivalry became more popular, the criticisms increased until King Phillip II of Spain banned their printing in 1590, although he had been a fan of them in his youth. Cervantes wrote in the preface to Don Quixote that his aim was “the destruction of the ill-founded machinations of the books of chivalry.”

Still, they remained popular, and though they couldn’t be printed or reprinted, old copies were passed from reader to reader, and new books were written by hand and entered circulation — at least 20 new longhand novels of chivalry, neatly bound like printed books, appeared in the 17th century. They had dashing heroes devoted to beautiful princesses, but not always the “correct” morals. Amadis himself was conceived outside of wedlock, as was his son with Oriana. Later novels became even more racy.

Women loved these books, which made them especially dangerous. A Spanish friar called them “golden pills that, with a delicious layer of entertainment, flatter the eyes to fill the mouth with bitterness and poison the soul with venom [and ruin a young woman’s] honest estate of modesty and shame.”

I don’t think women loved these books for the sex — that’s a male fantasy. Renaissance women loved them because in these fantasies, and in contrast to their real world, women were important. Ladies and damsels appear on every page. There are damsels in distress, of course, but so much more: powerful queens and sorceresses, schemers, healers, best friends, brave errand-runners, witnesses, assistants, lovers, temptresses, and beloved wives — even female knights.

How could self-appointed arbiters of literary quality take such books seriously? Amadis of Gaul and the century of chivalric literature that it inspired were too subversive to include in the official history, and when they were mentioned, they were vilified as trash by people who had never read them.

Even today, genre novels — fantasy, science fiction, and romance — remain ridiculed as sub-literate and childish. And yet, like Amadis of Gaul, they sell well, proof that someone loves them. I hope we never forget them, new and old. That’s why I’m translating Amadis of Gaul from medieval Spanish to English, a chapter at a time, at http://amadisofgaul.blogspot.com/

Guest Blogger–Justine Graykin on Humor

If We did not Laugh…

By Justine Graykin

Humor is mysterious.  What we laugh at varies from person to person and from culture to culture.  But that we laugh is well-nigh universal.  Babies start within months of birth.  Even primates seem to enjoy a good joke, generally at someone else’s expense. Why did we evolve this capacity for humor?

It may well be that, as we developed the ability to understand the world around us, we needed a sense of humor to survive.  How else could we deal with concepts like death, futility, and hopelessness? Once we began to realize how nasty, brutish and short life was, we needed something to get us through the day. Finding our situation (or somebody else’s) ridiculously funny may have done the trick.

We tend to take our art seriously.  Think how we talk about it.  Important works discuss serious subjects.  Other books are just for fun.  Shakespeare had a delightful, often naughty sense of humor, but that is considered gravy.  The meat of his work is the profound, dark, serious commentaries on the human condition.

There’s a value judgment here which skews our perspective, and inclines us to dismiss humor as frivolous and unnecessary.  There’s a certain puritanical pathology in this dismissal that does us all a disservice.  It conjures a vision of scowling men dressed in black writing up prohibitions on music and dancing because it takes people’s thoughts away from the proper contemplation of higher things.

No wonder depression is epidemic in our culture.

Humor is critical to human mental health.  It is the sugar that makes the medicine go down. We can deal with a lot of tension if we just get to release it all now and then with a good belly laugh.  The most grim and oppressive enemy loses a good deal of his power over you if you can but contrive to drop his pants.

But humor can be difficult.  It can be overdone, it can be inappropriate, it can be, well, just not funny.  It takes a skillful hand to coax the right
tone and balance between the serious and the smile.  It’s a bit like cooking.  Consider humor to be a spice or a condiment which must be used wisely, and with a certain restraint, otherwise it overpowers the other flavors.  There’s many types of humor, some sweet, some spicy, some bitter, some subtle and some strong.  The choice of what humor you use depends on the effect you want.

And, like cooking, it’s largely a matter of taste.  Humor evades analysis.  Making a serious study of humor is almost a contradiction in terms.  It is like trying to understand why a fresh peach is delicious by studying its chemistry. You may get some insights; you may even be able to duplicate the flavor in a laboratory.  But the best way understand the flavor of peaches is to eat lots of peaches.

The best way to understand humor is to immerse yourself in it. Read lots of it and notice what works.  But also listen to comedians and comedic actors.  Groucho Marx, Robin Williams, the acerbic exchanges of Spencer Tracy, Kate Hepburn and Carey Grant, anything by Mel Brooks. (Okay, I’m showing my age here, but you get the point.) This is how you get a feel for humorous dialog.  If you watch hours and hours of it for years it begins to come naturally to you.  You get an instinct for it.  And it will begin to merge effortlessly into your writing.

Life is too important to take seriously, and even the finest dish benefits from a touch of seasoning.

Science Fiction doesn’t have to be cold to be hard.
www.justinegraykin.com