Wyrd Warfare

 

 Here's the cover of the latest anthology in which one of my stories is featured. The editor had this to say in the introduction about my story: "[Wheeler] demonstrates the gallantry and the butchery of the Napoleonic Wars amplified to 'eleven.' He also wrote the best exchange of dialogue in a book filled with great exchanges."* The story is "Seventh Hussar and Aide to the Mage." You can get it here. I reread it earlier today, and enjoyed it again. It's smack-dab in the center of the book, which is filled with great stories.

 

*Currently, the ebook (and probably print as well) fails to list my name in the introduction, erroneously giving the name of an author who wrote the WW2 short story preceding mine. My story is the only Napoleonic tale in the anthology, and I've confirmed with the editor it was me and my story/dialogue to which he referred. A correction, although not demanded, has been promised.

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I was in a meeting earlier today in which someone mentioned that a third-party wasn't responding, or didn't seem genuine in her responses. Naturally, I had to say, "She was immune to your consultations." Nobody got the reference. Not only that, I couldn't remember either the song title or artist to which I was alluding. The other folks in the meeting thought I was using legal jargon. Fortunately, the handheld device was right at, well, hand. I did a quick search to reveal the source song and artist. Even then, no one else recognized it.

On the other hand, a coworker did get a couple of the three musical references I made within her hearing. All I can say about that is two out of three ain't bad.

Doing some reading in French, as I often do. I was struck by the difference in the French and English words for "now." The English word has but three letters. The word compacts a sense of urgency within the narrow confines of its brevity. Two consonants sandwich a single vowel. The first consonant is quickly formed with the tongue tapping the palate immediately behind the teeth. The second consonant has the advantage of requiring almost no oral action at all--merely a slight constricting of the lips and passage. The word can be a burst of sound enunciated with the leading letter to be squelched at once or drawn out by holding the vowel and final consonant. The W is a doorman who can slam the door or hold it open for emphasis. "Now" is perfectly suited to its purpose.

The French word, "maintenant," au contraire, does not lend itself to the hammer blow imperative of insistent immediacy. It has ten letters. For those of you running low on mathematical wizardry spells, that's more than three times the letters in "now." Notwithstanding the fact that the French have a penchant for ignoring many of the soldiers within the ranks of a given word, it's still at least a two syllable word (technically three, but that "e" in the middle is really just to tip-off the neighboring "t" to the fact that he needs to answer the roll call even though his mate at the end of the word could go awol and not be missed). The word begins with the lips entirely closed for the "m." To add insult to injury (and other cliches), the two syllables are both nasal, making one shouting the word by itself sound like the bearer of a speech impediment or a double-squeezed goose. It's a no-win combo of sound.

English for the win on this duel of rival tongues. Why do I bring this up? No reason. It's just something I noticed and spent more time thinking about than it deserved. I'm sure there are other battles that French might win. (I refrained from making an old joke here. I'm sure you can figure out what it was). For instance, could there be a better language for poetry? When you can make the "O" sound with 14 different combinations of letters, you're going to have big advantage in the rhyming words skirmish. However, I suspect that Shakespeare would be willing to contest the matter.

 

Check out all my books and published short stories here.

 

 

 

Fun fact: Julius Caesar was captured by pirates at the age of 25. To clarify, Caesar was 25. I don't know how old the pirates were. The story goes that when the pirates told Caesar the ransom to be paid for his release, he told them that they didn't know who they had captured, and he voluntary doubled the ransom. Apparently he promised the pirates, whom he treated rather disrespectfully, that he would see them all crucified after he was released. His friends returned with the ransom and the pirates released him. He was not a general at this time, but he raised a fleet and sailed back to the island where the pirates had remained. He captured the pirates and charged them two dollars each for their freedom--in other words, a buck an ear. No. He didn't release them. He imprisoned them and asked the local governor to execute them. When the governor proved reluctant, Caesar had them crucified on his own. Some sources indicate that being merciful, he had their throats cut before their crucifixion. That story begs for a funny punchline, but I'm not seeing it. Maybe you can tell me the punchline.

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Writing Progress: Did I mention that Book 3 of the Tomahawks and Dragon Fire series has a title? If I didn't, it does. Even if I did, it does. The title by which it shall be known, now and forever, or until I change my mind, is: Clamorous Harbingers. Yes, in keeping with the theme of the titles in the series, it is from Shakespeare. In this case it's from a line in Macbeth. I may post the line later. I will. I'm sure I will.

I know. Clamorous Harbingers sounds like the name of a really bad band. If you glance at the title without reading it too carefully, you could misread it as Glamorous Hamburgers. The misreading might make for an entertaining and eye-watering treat. (DYSWIDT?)

As for the actual progress, I don't know precisely how many words I've got into it so far because I've used a copy of Book 2 as a template, deleting an old chapter every time I'm ready to start a new chapter. (The answer if 72,337 words, precisely. I wasn't happy with that inadequate response, so I did a text selection to the end of the new material to get an exact count). I am currently finishing chapter 17. I think I have 5 to 8 chapters left, with my chapters coming in between 3,000 and 10,000 words, but most average around 5,000 words. The end is in sight--and it's even better than a sharp stick in the eye the breakfast I had in Bayeux, which was fabulous; it was huge, I tell ya.

The romances are but minor subplots (mostly) in the exciting adventure, and they're developing very slowly, what with all the fighting dragons, fighting the British, fighting the natives, capturing, rescuing, magic wielding, and trying to stay alive, and all--except for Antonio's romances; there's nothing slow about Antonio and romance.

And don't forget the new beasties. The new creatures in this book are rife with dark possibilities, but they may surprise you. Speaking of "rife," it is a fun word. Merriam-Webster.com states that the word has been around for over 900 years and that it's from:

 Middle English ryfe, from Old English rȳfe; akin to Old Norse rīfr abundant

It does sound like some old Viking word to me.

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Last week I found time to game with my skirmish rules an encounter (between British troops, Native warriors, and young dragons) which was loosely based on an event from Book 3 of the Tomahawks and Dragon Fire series. I won't bore you with the details, but in the game the dragons won. Pictures follow. The partially and poorly painted British soldiers represent who you think they might. The partially painted woodland Indians and primer-brown natives represent who you think they would. The plastic dinosaurs represent the two young dragons. The dragons entered upon the happening of the triggering event and they displayed neither partisanship nor mercy. They were equal opportunity hazards.

This pic is from near the end of the game. I think the soldier in peril may have escaped.

This was first contact. Unfortunately for the natives, they were able to move more quickly through the forest. This ability gave them an advantage against the soldiers, but also put them directly into the path of the young dragons at the time of the triggering event.

One of the warriors at the lower left could have escaped, but he suffered from an excess of untimely valor and became a woodland happy meal while his leader fled the scene.

Choices, choices. The dragonling, having already finished the appetizer, decides upon an entree.

No miniatures painted this week, very little proofreading, and little writing. I did get some reading done. I finished a book--review below. New books started include The Elven, The Red and The Black, Young Washington, and Napoleon: A Life. Le Loup Blanc remains on the list, but I didn't make any progress on it; The Colonization of North America is also in the currently reading file, but I didn't read much on that one this week either. I did autograph a few books on Saturday at the local coffee shop.

Sometime this week while wondering about words, I had reason to suspect a thing that I had not previously expected. In retrospect, I wonder, by way of a little introspection, why I had not considered the prospect. I inspected, and can only respect the results from Meriam-Webster Online:

Suspect:

Middle English, from Latin suspectare, frequentative of suspicere to look up at, regard with awe, suspect, from sub-, sus- up, secretly + specere to look at — more at SUB-, SPY

Respect:

Middle English, from Latin respectus, literally, act of looking back, from respicere to look back, regard, from re- + specere to look — more at SPY

Expect:

Latin exspectare to look forward to, from ex- + spectare to look at, frequentative of specere to look — more at SPY

Inspect:

Latin inspectus, past participle of inspicere, from in- + specere to look — more at SPY

Prospect:

Middle English, from Latin prospectus view, prospect, from prospicere to look forward, exercise foresight, from pro- forward + specere to look — more at PRO-, SPY

I hadn't thought to wonder about "spy," but all the --spect-- words pointed there so...

Spy:

Middle English spien, from Anglo-French espier, of Germanic origin; akin to Old High German spehōn to spy; akin to Latin specere to look, look at, Greek skeptesthai & skopein to watch, look at, consider.

Mystery solved. It all looks Latin to me. I guess "spectacle" and "spectator" are also from the same Latin root. But when I type "spectacles" into Meriam-Webster, the result takes me to "glass."

But enough of the wondering about words. There's a book to review!

Stiger's Tigers by Marc Alan Edelheit.

General Thoughts: This book reminded me of Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe's Rifles. I enjoyed the entire Sharpe's series. The writing for Stiger's is deliciously lean on description. It's clear and plain without seeming elementary. I suppose the story has a bit of a grim dark edge to it, as well as being sword and sorcery, and military fantasy. Most of the story is military based. The presence of an elf is the tip-off that we're not dealing with the historical Roman legions. The story moves along and never bogs down. I got the ebook on special for free, or for $0.99.

Story in a nutshell: Legionary captain whose name carries some baggage is transferred to a new unit. He must whip them into fighting shape, stay alive, avoid political problems, and assault the castle.

Do I recommend it? Yes. It's a worthy emulation of the Sharpe's books with the fantasy Roman-esque legions substituting for the 95th Rifles. Although it is predictable, the story is fun, and seldom lacks for action. I liked the military adventure aspect better than the fantasy aspect; it could have been a fine book even if the fantasy element had been eliminated. I don't recall much by way of character development. The main character is already as he is likely to remain in general. Some development of the relationships between the main character and the supporting cast occurs--but this is a book about military men doing mighty things, not some namby-pamby story about feelings with tears and tea cups. This is a story of sharpened swords, heavy shields, and pointed spears moving forward through the mud, the blood, and the fear--but there was no boy named Sue in this story. I rate it: A Rollicking Romp.