Seven Evil Uncles of Fiction

The Evil Uncle is a well-established and familiar form in fiction, and has been since – well, let’s take a look, shall we?

The classickest of evil uncles, to my mind, is Hamlet’s Uncle Claudius, who kills his brother (Hamlet Senior), steals his brother’s wife (in that order) and usurps the throne which was rightfully Hamlet Senior’s and is now rightfully Hamlet Junior’s. Confronted with this heaping pile of villainy, he feels a modicum of remorse (see Act III, Scene iii) – but not enough to actually try to put things right to the extent that he still can.

Claudius_at_Prayer_Hamlet_3-3_Delacroix_1844Slightly younger than Uncle Claudius is Uncle Richard, aka the Duke of Gloucester. (Only slightly younger – c. 1592 as opposed to c.1599-1602. Not 1485 – I am putting him in the fictional category as Shakespeare’s version doesn’t adhere all that closely to historical fact. Probably because he was writing under the rule of the grand-daughter of the man who killed (and replaced) Richard.) Shakespeare’s Richard orphans one niece and nephew, marries off the former to a nobody and imprisons the latter, has two other nephews murdered, and tries to marry another niece. That is a bad uncle.

Zipping on two or so centuries, to the late 1830s, we come to Kate and Nicholas Nickleby’s Uncle Ralph, a cold-hearted Scrooge of a man who uses his niece as bait for objectionable men and tries to ruin his nephew. He veers from the classic mould in not actually killing his brother (possibly because his brother doesn’t have a throne), but he doesn’t give a damn that he’s dead, either.

Nicholas Nickleby, (1875?)
C.S. Lewis furnished the world with two fine examples of the Evil Uncle genus. First (in 1951), Prince Caspian’s Uncle Miraz, who returns to the purity of the classics by killing his brother and pinching his crown – as well as planning to kill the rightful heir. Unlike Claudius, however, he does not pinch his brother’s widow, being already married to the hilariously named Prunaprismia.

Lewis’ second example is the magician who has the nephew in The Magician’s Nephew (1955) – Digory’s Uncle Andrew. A fool, perhaps, but an ambitious, meddling and arrogant fool, which to my mind qualifies him for the title of an Evil Uncle.

“Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours, my boy, is a high and lonely destiny.”
As he said this he sighed and looked so grave and noble and mysterious that for a second Digory really thought he was saying something rather fine. But then he remembered the ugly look he had seen on his Uncle’s face… and all at once he saw through Uncle Andrew’s grand words. “All it means,” he thought to himself, “is that he thinks he can do anything he likes to get anything he wants.”

Carl Spitzweg 015
So far the list of Evil Uncles seems to be dominated by the fruitful minds of the male of the species: two of Shakespeare’s, two of Lewis’, and one of Dickens’. But now, at last, we come to an Evil Uncle from the mind of a woman.

The woman in question is Ellis Peters, creator of Brother Cadfael, and also of Iveta de Massard’s Evil Uncle Sir Godfrid Picard (from The Leper of Saint Giles, 1981). He may be further from the murdering, throne-stealing Claudian mould than many of the above, but he’s still prepared to force his niece to marry a rather nasty man who is older than her father, purely for his own financial gain. And to blackmail her into pretending to like it by threatening the life of a young man she cares for. In short, a rotter.

The final Evil Uncle of the list is due to make his appearance in January 2018. Also from the mind of a woman (mine, in fact), he follows the classic mould in killing his brother to seize the throne, and trying to kill the rightful heir as well. (Why mess with a winning combination?)

man-1519667_640It is perhaps worth noting that of the first six Evil Uncles on the list (spoilers!), five are dead by the time the tale is wound up. I decided to be boldly different, and as a result, the death of Princess Lily’s Evil Uncle Phelan is announced before Chapter One is wound up. But of course, that’s not the whole story…

What fictional Evil Uncles have I missed? Feel free to add entries to the list below!

Blurbs: Your Opinion, Please!

After the helpful feedback I garnered from my last appeal for opinions (#2 is looking like a winner), I am moved to ask again. This time, your opinion is sought on the matter of blurbs.

The blurb text will appear on the back cover of the hardcopy, and in the online sales pages for both hardcopy and ebook. It’s the first thing after the cover that has the chance to pique a reader’s interest in the book. It’s gotta be good, and it’s gotta be short. Brevity is the soul of wit, Polonius informs us, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes. Brief, therefore, let me be.

There are two groups of people I want to hear from in particular:

  1. People who have read the book.
  2. People who have not read the book.

Adrien Jean Madiol Peeling potatoes 1873
Read book or peel potatoes? Tough choice…
If you fall into the former category, let me know which of the following blurbs you think best fits the content and tone of the book (always bearing in mind that Some Changes Have Been Made).

If you fall into the latter category, your task is simple: say which of the following blurbs you find most intriguing; which most piques your interest in reading the book.

Feel free to make your feedback as detailed as you like – approve some sentences, denounce others, critique the commas, substitute the shoutlines – all feedback is welcomed. Bear in mind that the illustrations are provided purely for, er, illustrative purposes, and won’t actually be involved in the end product.

Now, with no further ado, let us bring on the contestants!

Contestant Number One:

It should have been a fairytale…

Lily was born to be queen of Arcelia, where the land itself has life and magic growing in it. The royal rite of Restoration Day renews that life, restoring every family to their ancestral lands.
A quest for the Restoration Requisites is Lily’s chance to leave her enchanted castle for the world beyond, taking her rightful place at last. Her fairytale is finally coming true. Or so she thought…
But Arcelia has changed in ways she never imagined possible. Lily’s quest soon turns deadly serious: if she doesn’t find the Requisites in time, the life of the land will be lost – and so will hers.

Restoration Day is coming…

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Contestant Number Two:

Princess, pawn – or queen?

Princess Lily was born to be queen, but she lives like a pawn in the shadow of her aunt’s control. She dreams of the day when she will take her place in the world. At last her chance arrives, with a quest for the three Requisites of Restoration Day, the royal rite which renews the life of the land.
But she’s been hidden away too long, and Arcelia has changed. Stripped of everything but the identity which has become a life-threatening liability, Lily will need to do more than cross the board if she is to emerge triumphant as the queen she knows she must be.
The land she thought was hers becomes the field for a gripping game of chess – and this time she’s playing for her life.

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Contestant Number Three:

When the people are divided
from each other and the land…

So runs the Fate, a warning of dark times for the land of Arcelia, where the land itself has life and magic growing in it. Arcelia’s Princess Lily escapes the confines of her sequestered childhood to seek the Requisites for Restoration Day, a once in a lifetime rite that restores ancestral lands and renews the land’s own life.
But Lily soon finds that being a princess in a magic land is nothing like a fairytale. Stripped of all she thought was hers, and running for her life, she must see through her quest before the Fate falls on her land and they both are lost forever.

…to a foreigner’s dominion
shall the land at last be lost.

book world

So what will it be? Contestant Number One, Contestant Number Two, Contestant Number Three, or Other? Have your say below!

The Month of Prunen

I feel rather sorry for those who had to live under the French Revolutionary Calendar. Imagine making it through the months of Mist and Frost, only to have Snowy, Rainy and Windy to look forward to! Not to mention the rather unpleasant idea of having to work nine days before you get a single day off.

Pluviôse commence le 21 ou 22 janvier
So when it came to the world-building task of creating a calendar for Restoration Day, I knew some things I wanted to do, and some things I wanted to avoid. Like the Jacobins, I created a round of months which reflected the natural world. Unlike the Jacobins, I had more sense than to try to introduce decimal weeks.

The Arcelian calendar begins with spring: Grenian (greening), Blosse (blossom) and Molsh – time to fork some mulch onto the garden before the summer heat comes and dries everything out. Summer starts, you see, with Sunnen and ends with Dryden, with Hayen in the middle. Autumn brings Hærfest (time for a party!) followed by Sere (as everything withers) and Misth (you can tell winter is around the corner, can’t you?).

Unlike the Jacobin calendar, the winter months focus less on the doings of the dismal weather, and more on the doings of the people. The first month of winter is Prunen, followed by Diggen, which brings us at last to Budd, holding out the promise of the green of spring returning at last.

apple-tree-964475_640I had considered relating these months to the months of the Gregorian calendar, but then it occurred to me that my readers span both hemispheres and Confusion Is Liable To Result.

In the northern continents, for example, it is now Hayen, a time of hotness and dry grass. Down here in New Zealand, hotness is exactly what it isn’t, and as for dry grass, the last time I saw the cat bound across the back yard, it was like watching a skipping stone – splash, splash, splash.

No, down here it is Diggen time, although due to being rather behindhand with the gardening (I don’t like to go out when it’s raining, which is often), we are still at work on the pruning. Not the getting-rid-of-unnecessary-stuff-around-the-house kind of pruning, the actual pruning kind of pruning, with chopping off of branches and the like.

pruning shears and gloves

This year’s big effort is on the grapevine, a lordly, shed-eating monster which I suspect had not been pruned in years if not decades. To give you an idea of its size: the Google Earth image of our property does not give any indication that that shed exists. As far as the satellites are concerned, there is nothing but grapevine.

It not only covered the roof of the woodshed, it hung down on all four sides. Obviously, time for a haircut, preferably one that left the grapevine fruiting in places we could reach. Enter the ladder, the loppers and the secateurs. Also, to my surprise, the bucket and trowel.

Things which I did not expect to find in the grapevine:
> loop-de-loops and pretzels of blackened branches which had not seen the sun in years
> a thick layer of loam (the remains of years or decades of rotted-down leaves and grapes)
> earthworms (some white and squirming in the unaccustomed light)
> root systems (yes, some of the branches were putting down roots into the compost. I didn’t even know grapes could do that.)
> snails and slugs (some quite enormous)
> wetas (several)

TreeWeta female 03
Surprise!

> literally hundreds of slaters/woodlice and Things With Legs (did you know that slaters aka woodlice are crustaceans? Like lobsters. It does not make me loathe them any less.)
> and a large spider (only one, mercifully. Possibly a black tunnel-web spider, but I think I shall call it a cabochon spider, for its thorax and abdomen were round and smooth and tastefully coloured, at least until I beat it to a pulp with the trowel. After that, not so much.)

After digging up all that, I wouldn’t have been that surprised if I found a lost civilization or the portal to another world in there.

As you can imagine, this was no mere light afternoon’s gardening. I was three afternoons in before the difference was even discernible. But I persevered for two more solid afternoons, and, like Gandalf before me, “Ever he clutched me, and ever I hewed him… I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin.”

Caspar David Friedrich - Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer
Half the yard is now covered in the monster’s remains (unlike the mountain-side, our land is too squishy to break), and on the other half, two hills of grape-compost stand, ferried there in buckets by my Dearly Beloved.

Job done. At least until my aches fade sufficiently for me to tackle the apple, the redcurrant, the lemon and the Japanese maple. But we shall never see such a Prunen again.