Sunday Inspiration: The Library Has a Soul
“What did you discover, Folly?” Master Ferus was saying to his apprentice.
The oddly dressed girl frowned for half a minute before she spoke. “Frozen souls.”
“Ah!” Ferus said, raising a finger. “Yes, near enough. Well-done, child.”
Folly beamed and hugged her jar of crystals to her chest. “But why haven’t I ever felt anything like that in our study?”
“It is primarily a matter of density,” Ferus replied. “One needs more than a handful of trees to see a forest.”
Folly frouwned at that. “It seemed as if…they spoke to one another?”
“Nothing quite so complex as that, I think,” the etherealist said. “Some sort of communication, though, definitely.”
Bridget cleared her throat and said tentatively, “Excuse me, Master Ferus?”
The etherealist and his apprentice turned their eyes to her. “Yes?” he asked.
“I do not mean to intrude, but…what are you talking about?”
“Books, my dear,” Ferus replied. “Books.”
Bridget blinked once. “Books do not have souls, sir.”
“Those who write them do,” Ferus said. “They leave bits and pieces behind them when they law down the words, some scraps and smears of their essential nature.” He sniffed. “Most untidy, really—but assemble enough scraps and one might have something approaching a whole.”
“You believe that the library has a soul,” Bridget said carefully.
“I do not believe it, young lady,” Ferus said rather stiffly. “I know it.”
—Jim Butcher, The Aeronaut’s Windlass
Sunday Inspiration: Living
It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. This is in fact true. It’s called living.
—Terry Pratchett
Give Your Viking Character a Memorable Nickname
The folks at mental_floss show you how with “33 Crass and Creative Norse Nicknames.”
Before surnames were a well-established way of telling one Olaf or Astrid from another, identifying nicknames were far more prevalent. Historical figures had their share of quirky epithets—from Albert the Peculiar to Zeno the Hermit—but the Norse Vikings seem to have had them beat when it comes to comical range and sheer absurdity.
Technology and the Fair Folk
When I first decided to have Fair Folk in my Into the Wonder series fire elf shot from shotguns, it was purely in service of a pun. Mortals may have buckshot and birdshot, but the fae have elf shot! This one decision, however, ultimately exerted a good bit of influence over how I imagined the Fair Folk interacting with technology. Suddenly, they were not mired in medieval stasis but open—at least at some level—to later technological innovations. This was fine, of course, because much of northern European faery lore comes from a later (though still pre-industrial) stage of history, and that was where I had started in working out the “rules” for my fictional world. But shotguns strongly implied machine tooling, and that set me to thinking about other ways modern technology might impinge upon the lives of elves, pookas, goblins, and the daoine sídhe. Here, then, are some of my semi-random thoughts on the matter.
Technological innovation in the Wonder has moved more slowly than it has on human earth. In general, Wonderling society in North America operates at technological level comparable to that of late in the Age of Exploration or the earliest stages of the Industrial Revolution (roughly AD 1700–1800).
The Relative Rarity of Tech
Wonderling tech is not as prevalent in their society as it was in ours in the late 1700s, however, for a number of reasons. Most obviously, inhabitants of the Wonder are able to use magic to accomplish many of the goals for which Topsiders must rely on technology. There is little incentive to develop technological ways to enhance a farm’s yield when all one needs to do is turn a few friendly pookas or poleviks loose in the fields! Why develop technological means of transportation and long-distance communication when the ring network and a good Seeing Stone can work at least as adequately as anything mortals have devised—if not far better?
Another limiting factor is the widespread aversion to iron and steel among the true fae. (This is not a significant factor for other denizens of the Wonder such as dwarves, little folk, trolls, etc. It does, however, limit the overall demand for products made of iron or steel.)
Add to this that many inhabitants of the Wonder have a deep connection to and appreciation for the natural world. Beings who have lived for centuries in harmony with springs, fields, forests, and trees are not likely to forsake these things for technological advances that, left unchecked, may threaten to mar or even destroy them.
Furthermore, the Wonder in general lacks an economic system conducive to widespread industrialization. Inhabitants of the Wonder engage in barter with strangers or outsiders and cultivate complex networks of patronage with their associates in an intricate social hierarchy. In such an arrangement, there is little to no incentive for a young sprite to leave the farm in order to work in large urban factories. Therefore, whatever technology is available is still almost exclusively the product of small cottage industries.
The final limiting factor is purely cultural. Although the inhabitants of the Wonder benefit from eighteenth-century technology, their clothing, values, and other aspects of culture are generally closer to fifteenth–sixteenth century. Many in the Wonder are wary of technological innovations beyond this Renaissance-era horizon.
Technological Diffusion from Topside
It should be noted, however, that some Wonderlings are quite acquainted with the Topside world, both in historical times (Mara Hellebore knows of Shakespeare and Spenser) and more recent decades (Danny Underhill is familiar with Walt Disney, Janis Joplin, and Michael Jordan). It is quite possible that a well-read fae could be the equal of any Topside scientist or engineer in terms of the underlying principles of modern technology even if his or her society has not produced all the intermediate steps needed to reproduce it. Algebra and calculus, the germ theory of disease, modern genetics, atomic theory, and other advances are easily comprehended by astute Wonderlings.
Furthermore, many inhabitants of the Wonder are known to enter patronage relationships with Topsiders (“Friendlies”) which might result in the Topside client trading technological trinkets for magical favors.
I have left a number of hints about Wonderling technological capabilities here and there in the Into the Wonder series, however. Moe Fountain’s home has indoor plumbing, including a heated shower (steam pump?). A guard reads a periodical magazine (printing press), there is a clock in the dining hall of Dunhoughkey (clockworks, machine tools?), and various characters deliver elf-shot using blunderbusses, muskets, and shotguns (gunpowder, machine tools). All of these fit very well within eighteenth-century parameters.
Two Borderline Cases
There are two instances of technology more clearly associated with the early nineteenth century. In The Devil’s Due, Lawdwick Vesper carries canned foodstuffs in his pack (c. 1810), and in Children of Pride, Shanna Hellebore’s cell at Dunhoughkey is adorned with photographs (1839). I’ll admit I hadn’t nailed down the tech level in the Wonder as precisely as I since have when writing these details, so what follows may be something along the lines of a writer’s saving throw. Be that as it may, here is how I might be tempted to justify these details.
In the case of Vesper’s canned rations, (1) this innovation is so close to the AD 1800 cut-off as to be virtually negligible, and (2) Nicolas Appert first began working on his food preservation method after a chance observance that food cooked inside a jar didn’t spoil unless the seals leaked. Had the same observation been made fifty to a hundred years prior, canning would be an eighteenth-century invention. Furthermore, (3) since some inhabitants of the Wonder are aware of mortal innovations, there is nothing inherently implausible about canning foods using eighteenth-century technology—all that is really needed is a suitable canister, a pressure cooker, and a heat source.
In the case of photography, Shanna’s cell décor is perhaps best explained by appeal interactions between Wonderlings and Topsiders. Well-read inhabitants of the Wonder would know the basics of photography as it is practiced on human earth—in fact, many of the necessary technical innovations are pre-nineteenth century: the camera obscura, silver nitrate, silver chloride, and the photochemical effect. Indeed, a passage in the novel Giphantie by Tiphaigne de la Roche (1760) anticipates photography.
The first attempt to capture the image in a camera obscura on a light-sensitive substance was made by Thomas Wedgwood around 1800, and it is not inconceivable for Wonderlings to have developed a process something along the lines of a daguerreotype (1839) or perhaps even the wet collodion process (c. 1850).
What do you think? Is there room in Faery Land for gunpowder, machine tools, steam engines, and the cotton gin? Or do you prefer your fantasy races to be strictly medieval?
Recently Discovered Tolkien Poems
Obviously they’re not “undiscovered” if someone has just discovered them, but this is interesting news nonetheless:
Undiscovered poems written by J.R.R. Tolkien have been uncovered in an Abingdon school magazine from 1936.
The work of The Lord of the Rings author was found by the principal of Our Lady’s Abingdon school after searching through old copies of the school’s annual magazine.
Two poems were found titled The Shadow Man – an earlier version of Tolkien’s Adventures of Tom Bombadil – and a Christmas poem titled Noel.
The full text of both poems are to be found in the Oxford Mail story.
Sunday Inspiration: Love
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.
—Robert A. Heinlein
An Eighth Harry Potter Book
To be precise, it is the script book for the stage play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. And it’s set to be released sometime this summer. According to Pottermore:
Readers and moviegoers last saw Harry waving off his children at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, 19 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, in the epilogue to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child picks up after that moment and is staged in two parts, due to the ‘epic nature of the story’.
I’m assuming a “script book” is the script of the play bound in book form. If that’s not correct, I’d appreciate someone enlightening me.
Why the Summer Assize begins in May
Or, as mental_floss explains it: “Why Seasons Make No Sense.”
In the world of Taylor Smart, the seasonal Courts of Arradherry follow the traditional Celtic calendar(s), in which the solstices and equinoxes are near the middle of their respective seasons, not the beginning.
Sunday Inspiration: 1,000 Lives
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.
—George R. R. Martin
Sunday Inspiration: Books
Books are a uniquely portable magic.
— Stephen King