To a Verdigris

From Publishers Weekly's interview with Frances Hardinge, author of Fly by Night:

I read that when you were six, you wrote a short story that included an attempted poisoning, a faked death, and a villain being thrown off a cliff--all in just one page! Would you say that your style has changed since then?

Yes. I have clearly become less concise.

You’ve also written a book called Verdigris Deep that was published in the U.K. last year. Is this a different book than Well Witched, or the same? If the same, why the title change?

Yes, Well Witched and Verdigris Deep are indeed the same book. My U.S. publisher changed the title because they felt that “verdigris” was too difficult and unfamiliar a word for many American readers, including adults.

If only Americans had continued spelling the word "verdigrease," as I've seen it rendered in eighteenth-century newspapers, we might be able to puzzle it out. "Verd" as in "verdant"; "grease" as in slimy stuff.

Then again, we Americans may not have to feel inferior to the Brits. All the copy I've seen from the UK publisher, such as this webpage, includes a helpful definition of "verdigris."

Barging Through Fantasyland

The orphan has taken a river barge to the big city, only to discover that its crew are smuggling illicit goods. Escaping from that danger, the orphan sets out along the river road on foot, soon meeting a horse-drawn vehicle carrying an enticing upper-class woman--who turns out to be even more dangerous.

Frances Hardinge's Fly By Night? No, it's D. M. Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo: Foundling. But a lot of MBT1 is seeming familiar, like a case study for Diane Wynne Jones's Tough Guide to Fantasyland.

Values in Fly By Night

I've mentioned Frances Hardinge's Fly By Night twice on this blog, both times in the sincere belief that it was a fantasy. But it's not. Sure, the actions of Saracen the goose are a little convenient at times, but no laws of physics are harmed in the telling of this story. That must be why it's nominated for a middle-grade fiction Cybil but not in the Science Fiction/Fantasy category.

Rather, Fly By Night is an alternate-reality story. In this version of England in the late 1600s or early 1700s, the society is still in shock from the short, bloody rule of fundamentalist Puritans. While nominally still one country, it's actually a collection of feuding mini-states, each loyal to its own military leader. They are loosely united by the rules of well-meaning but often ineffectual guilds. (Think Afghanistan, with those guilds in place of NATO.)

The realities of daily life are equally alternate. For example, Restoration and Georgian London had coffeehouses tied to shipping through the early insurance business. But Hardinge's city has coffeehouses that actually ply up and down the river to find customers. And of course giving those floating cafés sails for propulsion would be too normal; no, the boats in this book are drawn by kites.

To go with such strikingly fresh images, Fly By Night is gorgeously written, with startling metaphors and delight in vocabulary that extends to characters' names (especially the middle-aged men: Eponymous Clent, Mabwick Toke, Linden Kohlrabi).

The plot is complex, but weak enough that it rests on accepting that ***SPOILER*** after a girl has climbed into a printing press, lain there for a while, and slithered back out, her apron and arms will be imprinted with perfectly legible words. Printers' apprentices had to spend years learning not to smudge ink, but our heroine Mosca Mye seems to come by the secret naturally.

For an Anglophile American, it's fun to pick out the bits of English history that fed into this vision: medieval guilds, the icon-bashing changeover of church leadership under Henry VIII, the bearpits of Jacobean London, Cromwell's protectorate, a writer in rural exile with his daughter like John Milton, the wigs and watermen of Augustan London, the tobies of the Georgian heath.

Yet despite this tale taking place in what the Guardian called "a demented England that never was," Fly By Night reflects the nearly universal, almost undebatable values of today's fiction for young people. And what are those, folks? As I spelled them out in this iteration of this pet theory, those values are:

• Maintain a sense of hope in tough situations.
• Be yourself instead of trying to fit into what your family or your society wants you to be.
• Literacy is important.
• Girls can do anything boys can do.
• Tolerance is good.

With a female protagonist in a traditionalist society, points two and four go together. From the start, Mosca insists on wearing breeches under her skirt, and eventually ***SPOILER*** rejects a safe future as teacher and wife. In between, all the male guild leaders and conspirators underestimate her because she's a girl (with one possible exception--the idealistic but naive radical, naturally). And in the final chapter she spells out the value of tolerance for anyone who's missed it.

HarperCollins US, faced with a big challenge in appealing to American children (not all of us were watching Masterpiece Theater at age ten), chose to play up the third point above: the value of free reading. As shown here, the US cover design for Fly By Night invites young readers to:

Imagine a World in which All Books Have Been
BANNED!

(The UK edition, shown above, took flight on goose wings instead.)

In fact, not all books have been BANNED! in this Fly By Night world, only those not approved by the Company of Stationers, out of fear that they might open religious or political divisions. Yes, the Stationers have gone too far and also take steps to maintain their own sway. But given their nation's history of massacres and civil war, it's understandable for these people to feel skittish about books. Faith in the free press is a modern value.

Fly By Night also takes place in a society in which monotheism, and thus religious freedom, has been BANNED. Travel on boats not controlled by the watermen's guild has been BANNED. Independent schools have been BANNED. Females going out without bonnets are, if not BANNED, at least looked askance upon (that one's based on actual history). But you can't grab so many American readers by asking them to imagine those threats. To make kids check out a book, raise the possibility that they shouldn't be allowed to read it.

visions of fantasy editors

At the chock-full-of-stuff Cynsations, author Cynthia Leitich Smith has posted an interview with Mirrorstone editor Stacy Whitman. I met Stacy online while she was in graduate school at Simmons, and you can see the informed perspective she brings to her job:

Children's literature is the only genre written by people who aren't its target audience. A lot of "gatekeeper" adults filter the literature before it reaches a child's hands--booksellers, teachers, librarians, parents, editors, writers. So our challenge is to help those gatekeepers love our books as much as we love them, to create stories that kids will love even after being recommended by an adult.

I suspect that feeling of being outside the gates is especially strong at Wizards of the Coast, Mirrorstone's parent, since it specializes in paperback fantasies, which make a lot of critics turn up their noses. As Stacy says, "I've heard from many readers that...they expected a series paperback to be pretty bad. We want to tell good stories that kids will enjoy, and to do that, the writing must be excellent as well as the story."

Last month HarperCollins editor Michael Stearns offered Fly by Night, Blog by Day, a room-by-room description of escorting British author Frances Hardinge on her American tour to promote Fly by Night. One moment to remember--

Question from darling schoolchild: If you were born in England, why are you touring schools here?

Answer: (Good question, Frances looked at her editor, who was unable to explain much of anything, and then she explained that the book had just been published here.)