Dragon’s Child – The King Arthur’s Trilogy
By M. K. Hume
I fell in love with Arthurian tales when I first read The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. I was a teenager then and the magical spells that poured from the pages enveloped me.
Back in Brazil British history isn’t a big part of the academic curriculum, much less its legends. Surprisingly though the legends reach us more efficiently through historical fiction and fantasy books. The fascination over worthy heroes and their adventures is worldly, and what young reader wouldn’t dream about a time of great fits of strength done by characters of honorable hearts, everything is so grand.
Even though I still enjoy fantasy, I do prefer my heroes with a certain dose of realism, and M. K. Hume offers us an insightful new fictional version of the Arthurian legends inspired by a stone tablet found at Glastonbury monastery within a grave during a period of civil strife in medieval times.
Here lies Arthur, King of the Britons,
And Guinevere, his second wife.
A first wife then, who knew, right? Apart from scholars and historians, of course. All right, let me assume my ignorance on the matter, I didn’t know and thought it was quite intriguing.
Artorex is a foster child raised by a Roman family in their beautiful villa right after the legions have left the isles of the Britons. Treated with contempt as a young lad his attitude is distant and disengaging, but everything changes when three prominent strangers arrive at Villa Poppinidii. The powerful men urge Artorex’s foster parents to make sure he’s trained for battle of arms and wits. So Artorex grows into a wise young man, he becomes the Villa’s steward; falls in love and marries little Galia, the daughter of a Roman trader, the end.
Oh no, Myrddion Merlinus, advisor to Uther Pendragon, High King of the Britons, and two princes cared about and provided for Artorex’s education. We readers know who he is and what awaits him in the future, but M. K. Hume created a myriad of rich characters that helped Artorex become Arthur. There are no magic tricks in Arthur’s journey, only hard work and smart characters, masters of manipulation and politics. She does describe terrible rituals, but only fear and superstition turn them into magic on the course of time. M. K. Hume steers away from fantasy and offers us a believable, and extraordinary story where the maneuvers of a smart group of men help shape the future of a nation.
Dragon’s Son encompasses Arthur’s formative years and his coming into power. It also offers us a group of engaging secondary characters that show us how the powerful and the humble coexisted, and they make us care. Despite the limitations women suffered during the Dark Ages M. K. Hume’s female characters are strong and enrich the story as active coadjutants. And her mastery of history shines on every page adding a realism that grounds the story. I’ll definitely read more from M. K. Hume.
The Lavender Garden
A Novel by Lucinda Riley
1998 – Emilie de La Martinières grew up alone. A poor rich girl ignored by her socialite mother all her life. Having lost her beloved father when she was only fourteen, Emilie feels distant from her family’s history and her inheritance.
1944 – Constance Carruthers is a strong smart woman who decides to take a job offer at MI-5 when her husband leaves to fight in WWII, only weeks after their marriage. For four years she lived in fear of receiving the telegram that would tell her that her husband was missing in action. And suddenly it had arrived. She knew all too well that the chances of her Lawrence still being alive after two months missing receded by the day. She no longer particularly cared if she lived or died. She then accepts an offer to work as a spy for the F Section, that had the sole purpose of frustrating and handicapping the Nazi regime in France.
Although these women’s lives are separated by decades, the connection between her father and Connie will help Emilie feel a deep pride in her inheritance, heal her broken heart, and find a new purpose in life.
After an initial sympathy for Emilie, who loses her mother on the first paragraph of the story, I must say that I developed an antagonism toward her as she lingers in a paralyzing stupor. She meets the charming Sebastian, and allows this complete stranger to take over her life, even make financial decisions for her. Does he have good intentions? What lies under his handsome façade? Her unreserved trust and lack of determination exasperated me. I wanted to slap her and yell, “Snap out of it girl!”
Connie, on the other hand, delighted me and I found myself rooting for her at every step of the way. After an intensive period of training in England she’s sent to Paris to join the Scientist network, nonetheless the spy network has been discovered and she must hide at Édouard de La Martinières’ house. His contacts assured her he’s an ally to their cause, but she finds him entertaining German top officials. Who is this man? She wants to join her fellow spies in the field; instead she becomes the center of Colonel Falk von Wehndorf’s attention, the powerful Nazi responsible for dismantling the Scientist network. Against her better judgment, she must stay under Édouard’s orders and accept Falk’s advances to avoid exposing the secretive Frenchman.
Both narratives evolve in parallel and as Emilie makes sense of her father’s mysterious past she finally takes control of her life. As she gradually changes her passive attitude, so changes my perception of her. The Lavender Garden is the first book from Riley I read and I admired her ability to navigate two extremes and build such intriguing characters.
My Life in France and Valentine’s Day
As Valentine’s Day approaches I’m busy with red and pink related chores:
– Helping my daughters make valentines for their teachers and school friends (check);
– Decorating boxes to hold the charming notes they will certainly receive (check);
– Planning our family dinner and purchasing one of the, tempting looking, heart shaped desserts from the neighborhood bakery (check and check);
Having finished the list above, I found myself perusing through my copy of “French Cooking” by Julia Child in search of her famous Boeuf Bourguignon recipe, the perfect dish for a cozy evening, and ended up revisiting her adventures in “My Life in France”. One of the most romantic non-fiction books I ever read. Even though I’m quite sure you won’t find it in any The Most Romantic Books Ever Written list, I simply adore the absolute intimate relationship she had with her husband, Paul Child.
The book starts with their arrival in France in 1948. From the first meal they have in the restaurant La Couronne in Rouen (which still exists and is in my list of places to go), and all through the book, you will find sensuous descriptions of lavishing meals perfect for two. “…A sensational briny flavor and smooth texture that was entirely new and surprising,” could describe so many things, but in this case she’s talking about oysters. A simple green salad is salade verte and it’s laced with its sauce. Laced, I blush just imagining the closeness of the leaves in their bed, I mean, plate.
Julia and Paul didn’t only share fabulous meals; they also stood by each other in trying times. Like when Paul was investigated by the USIA in 1955 during the period Julia calls McCarthy’s terrible witch-hunt, when everyone was easily accused of communism. Not to mention Paul’s unwavering support during the eight year period it took her to write “Mastering The Art Of French Cooking”.
Being an expat turned immigrant, I can relate to many experiences she describes. Not speaking the language, and desperately wanting to communicate, is truly frustrating. Learning to navigate the cultural differences is a major challenge. And experimenting with a new cuisine is really fun. At every move Julia and Paul’s relationship seemed stronger. Facing challenges together united them, and I feel exactly the same with my husband. As we moved from Brazil to the US, back to Brazil, back to the US, then China, and finally settled in the US, we learned to rely on each other and grew closer, and that’s very romantic.
My best moment of 2012 was outweighed by the worst one, by far.
The year is coming to an end, and lists of 2012 “best” and “worst” everything dominate news papers and magazine covers in most countries of the world. Retrospectives of the nearly finished year share the lists of topics of TV variety shows with resolutions for the new year.
To me, the best thing that happened in 2012 was reading a letter from a New York editor saying she is interested in my work. The worst though, that overshadowed everything else, was learning my father was diagnosed with a very serious disease that is deteriorating his quality of life really fast. He’s battling the insurance company to get the treatment he needs, and the whole thing is ghastly. Anxiety rules in my house nowadays. I never felt the weight of living far from my family so deeply.
2012 was a roller coaster that kept me on my toes.
I wish that in 2013 good times outweigh bad ones.
Cooking for The Holidays is a Family Affair
One of the traditions I enjoy every Christmas is cooking with my family. Usually on December 23rd we spend hours in the kitchen prepping for the next two days. We make all the desserts, and everything else that can be done in advance.
This year I baked a pumpkin pie and my daughters made red velvet whoopie pie. We’ll also have fresh berries with a selection of cheeses and nuts for dessert. For dinner my kids asked me to make lasagna from scratch, “Like grandma makes,” so I made the red sauce in advance. My little one loves roasted chicken, hence a big roaster already marinating in white wine, lemon juice and herbs in my refrigerator. The kitchen gets quite messy, but we clean everything up before going to bed.
Tomorrow we’ll also make rice, steam plenty of asparagus sprigs, and assemble a salad. It’ll be a feast, and the best of it all is the time we spend together. The idea is to enjoy the whole process from going out shopping for ingredients, all the way to the final result of a beautifully set table. I hope the red velvet batter the girls dripped all over the place don’t stain anything, or I might remember this one better than most for the wrong reasons.
Children Grow and Traditions Change, But in our Home the Christmas Spirit Remains Very Much Alive
In Brazil the night of December 24th is celebrated widely. It’s on Christmas Eve that Brazilians gather to share a beautiful meal with their families and exchange gifts. And we wait until midnight to toast the birth of Jesus. Some families without small children only dine after midnight. And many families dine and go to the “Missa do Galo – Rooster’s Mass” a special mass celebrated at midnight on Christmas Eve, after all, over 70% of Brazilians are Catholics, even if mostly Cultural Catholics. The next day we sleep until late, wake up, and go straight to a lunch prepared with Christmas’ diner leftovers. Here in the U.S. traditions are different. Some families get together for an especial meal, others go to Mass, but for the children the big celebration happens on the morning of the 25th.
Our home is ready for Christmas
When our daughters were born we decided to celebrate Christmas the Brazilian way. So in our home while the girls believed in Santa Claus, we dined late, my husband sneaked out of the dining room to dress up as Santa, and when I took the girls to the living room he was already there, sitting on an armed chair and sweating profusely. When the girls were small we lived in Florida, where winters are as hot as in Rio de Janeiro. He would then open his gift bag and call the girls who sat on his lap delighted; they didn’t even notice dad’s absence. Over the years they began to ask, “Where’s my father.” Until one day when they sneaked behind his chair, removed his cap and fake beard. Now the whole family is Santa Claus for the children of the entities that we help every year.
I taught the girls that Santa is a representation of the spirit of kindness and charity, that everyone who can, should have towards those in need, and not just during the holidays’ season. Thus, in addition to donations we do throughout the year, in December my daughters together with their classmates adopt a child from the orphanage supported by their school. It’s a very special place called My House, which cares for babies who are ready to leave the hospital but are homeless and have nowhere to go. The technical description of what they do is to assure that the medical and developmental needs of these babies are met. Many of the babies are actually taken from their families because of ill treatment, and are sent to My House because they are malnourished and with serious emotional problems. Every year each class takes the list of a baby’s needs and assembles packages that are delivered personally by the sixth graders.
Santa’s Elves
The lists include basic items such as toiletries, pajamas, socks and slippers, and goes up to age appropriate toys. For some children with serious health problems, My House asks for money to purchase medicines and disposables, in those cases the girls decorate envelopes for the donation. Either way the children write letters to accompany the gifts. For those babies my daughters are Santa’s Elves spreading the Good Spirit of Christmas. And that’s how he remains very much alive in our home.
Mommy isn’t my name. Or is it?
“Mommy Toribio Gomes!” Claire said.
“Excuse me, what?” I answered.
“Mommy Toribio Gomes, I called and called, and you didn’t answer because of whatever you’re reading. So I did like you do. And. It. Worked.” she said triumphantly.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“You know, like when I don’t listen to you, and you call all my names.”
“Mommy isn’t my name.”
“Of course it is. Silly mommy.” she said as if explaining the most obvious of concepts and hugged me tight.
“Whatever you say baby.”
The Spies by Luis Fernando Verissimo
Review by Flavio Luiz Gomes
In “The Spies” by Luiz Fernando Verissimo, an editor receives a manuscript that intrigues him to the point of becoming an obsession. He shares the story with his friends, and little by little the obsession is generalized and a mismatched group of “spies” is formed with the purpose of releasing the manuscript – and its author – from anonymity.
“The Spies” is another classic Verissimo – refined with a kind humor that exposes the human limitations in a generous manner. As in other Verissimo’s books there are intellectuals debating at a bar’s table, but this time they decide to take action. “Intellectuals” and “action” do not often appear in the same sentence, and the author takes advantage this oxymoron in all its amusing potential, but the human side prevails and reality settles ensuring a melancholic ending.
As always, I could not stop reading it until the very last word.
Chicken and Cream Cheese Double Crust Pie
When I’m not writing or reading, or taking care of my family, you may find me cooking.
I learned to love the kitchen with my grandmother. She was the granddaughter of Italian immigrants and grew up in a rural “Italian’s only” community in Brazil. When I was five years old she gave me my first job in her kitchen. As she rolled the dough for gnocchi, I had to follow her cutting the little pieces of sticky potato dough over her immense, flour covered, wooden kitchen table. At the end of the process I looked like a snow man, a “as happy as can be” little snow man. I was sold. To this day my love for everything Kitchen is passionate.
Chicken and Cream Cheese Double Crust Pie
To, Anelisa and Wendy, who asked for this recipe, and all my “amateur chef” friends out there.
Follow the recipe on this link bellow for the dough, but omit the sugar, and do double crust according to the instructions. If it looks to messy for you, go ahead and use the store bought dough of your preference. I like Immaculate all natural baking.
Now, the filling is the secret. Every time I make chicken noodle soup I cook two big breasts of chicken with skin and bone together with vegetables and seasoning for the broth (when in a hurry, you may use a pressure cooker). When the meat is tender, before adding the noodles, I get both breasts from the pot, remove the meat from the bones, discard the skin and cut into small cubes, 1/3 of it I return to the pot, add the noodles to be cooked in the flavorful broth, and that’s dinner. The remaining 2/3 of meat I place in the refrigerator for the next day.
Chicken and Cream Cheese Double Crust Pie
Sauté a small chopped onion on a tablespoon of olive oil, add the chicken, three shredded tomatoes, some flat leaf parsley and some basil, and when it is bubbling add 1 tablet of cream cheese (can’t be the light kind though, must be the real rich one). Mix often, and once the cream cheese is properly melted and incorporated, taste it and adjust the salt. Turn off the fire and let it cool down.
Heat the oven to 375ºF. Place one of the pie discs on the bottom of a pie dish (I like the glass ones), pour in the filling and cover it with the second disc. Use a fork to press the borders together. Whisk one egg and brush the top. Make some slits on the top to let vapors out and place it in the oven. When the borders are brown, about 15 minutes after you placed the pie in the oven, cover the borders with aluminum foil and return it to the oven for some 15 to 20 minutes longer. Voilà!