Scandalous Women welcomes Guest Blogger Cara Elliott on Ada, Countess of Lovelace

Scandalous Women is pleased to welcome historical romance author Cara Elliott to the blog, talking about Lord Byron's daughter Ada, Countess of Lovelace. Cara is the author of the fabulous book To Sin with a Scoundrel from Grand Central Publishing which came out this month.

There is something about women who dare to be different that has always appealed to me, even as a child. Maybe it’s because I tended to be a tomboy and was often scolded to “act more like a normal young lady!” when I wanted to do things like catch frogs and throw a football rather than play with dolls. (To her credit, my mother was not one of those voices. She always encouraged my enthusiasms—whether they involved cutting out cardboard swords and crowns, or making bow and arrows—for which I am profoundly grateful.) In any case, I never understood why being a girl should limit what I could do . . . so I guess it’s no surprise that I tend to write offbeat heroines in my historical romances—women who dare to defy the conventions of their era.

As a result, some people have scolded me for not creating “real” Regency ladies. Which makes me wonder whether they have really read anything about the real-life women of the time. For the more I research the Regency era, the more I discover what fascinating and adventurous women lived during the era. In every discipline—science, literature, art and music, to name just a few—there were many individuals who had the courage to defy the strictures of Society and risk censure in order to explore their passions. In my new “Circle of Sin” trilogy (To Sin With A Scoundrel made its debut this month) my heroines are lady scientists, and when asked if there are any historical figures who were the inspiration for them, I always put the Countess of Lovelace at the top of the list.

Augusta Ada Byron was born December 10, 1815, the only child of Lord Byron and Annabella Milkbanke, who—against the conventions of the times—had shown an intriguing aptitude for mathematics. Ada never knew her father, as her parents separated soon after her birth and Byron ceded legal custody to his wife. As a child she suffered through a difficult childhood, as her mother was a manipulative woman who used physical pain and guilt to try to control those around her. But despite her other faults, which appear to have been legion, Lady Byron did encourage her daughter to study mathematics, and Ada soon showed her own special talent for the subject. (One of her tutors was Augustus De Morgan, who is considered to be one of the fathers of modern algebra . . . not that I would know anything about that, having been seriously deficit in all mathematical skills during my school days.)

At age 17, Ada met Mary Somerville, the leading female scientist of the times, who also encouraged her to study seriously. (Somerville College at Oxford is named after Mary.) It was through Somerville that she came to be introduced to other scientific intellectuals of the day, including Charles Babbage, the inventor of the Difference Engine and Analytical Engine, precursors of the modern computer.

In 1835, she married William King—later the Earl of Lovelace—and bore him three children. But despite an active social whirl within the high circles of English society, she kept up her scientific studies, and soon was helping to support Babbage. They worked together on various mathematical problems, and Babbage called her “the Enchantress of Numbers.” (And as one online blog says, Ada also inherited her father's gift for words, for she succinctly summed up a complex mathematical concept by comparing Babbage's invention with the Jacquard loom: "The Analytical Engine ... weaves algebraic patterns, just as the Jacquard-loom weaves flowers and leaves.") Ada’s notes on calculating sequences of Bernoulli numbers on the Babbage’s machine is credited with being the first computer program. Today, the U. S. Department of Defense has named one of its programs ADA in her honor.

Unfortunately, she became addicted to opium and alcohol, then turned to gambling on horses . . . sadly her proficiency in discerning patterns in numbers did not carry over to living creatures. Like her father she died young, succumbing to uterine cancer at age 36.

In its obituary, the London Examiner wrote that: "(despite) an understanding thoroughly masculine in solidity, grasp and firmness, Lady Lovelace had all the delicacies of the most refined female character . . . Her manners, her tastes, her accomplishments, were feminine in the nicest sense of the word; and the superficial observer would never have divined the strength and knowledge that lay hidden under the womanly graces."

Thank goodness “strength and knowledge” are—by most sensible people—no longer considered un-womanly graces. And we have brilliant women like Ada to thank for that. So let’s raise a toast to courage and commitment of “scandalous women” from the past. They are wonderful role models for us all.

Thanks Cara. You can find more about Cara Elliott at her website: www.caraelliott.com or over at the Word Wenches, one of my favorite blogs. In honor of Ada, Countess of Lovelace day and also to celebrate the release of the first book in the trilogy To Sin as a Scoundrel, I'm giving away a copy to one lucky winner. Just leave a comment and your name will be entered.

NOTE: This giveaway is only for US residents.

Winners of March Madness

The winner of Invitation to a Dance is

Alyce

and the winner of Creation of Eve is

Terri

Ladies, I will be emailing you for your addresses shortly.

Guest Blogger Lynn Cullen on Bringing Characters to Life

Scandalous Women is pleased to welcome guest blogger Lynn Cullen, author of the new book Creation of Eve. 

I recently asked Lynne:  After you discovered Sofi, what was the hardest aspect of her to bring to life and write about? And how limited were the resources regarding Sofi?


Good questions! There is very little printed information about Sofonisba Anguissola. She has an entry in Giorgio Vasari’s THE LIVES OF THE ARTISTS dating from the 1500’s, and there are two good art books about her from the 20th century, but even those are out of print. I got my hands on those books and started reading about her life. Yet it was not words but Sofi’s own paintings that brought her to life for me.

I read that her father encouraged her career and promoted her within the noble families in Cremona, and then when she caught on locally, he paved her way to paint in several ducal courts across Italy by writing letters and sending samples with the recommendations by Cremonese dignitaries. Only a few formal letters by Sofonisba’s father (none by Sofonisba, that I can recall) and a handful of legal records have survived. A researcher can tell nothing of their personalities from them. I had decided that maybe Amilcare Anguissola was the ultimate stage dad, and like Mozart’s father, promoted his child prodigy in order to win fame and fortune for himself. I wrote a whole draft with Amilcare as an evil show dad, but as fun as that was, it just didn’t ring true. I scrapped it then went back to study Sofi’s Portrait of Amilcare, Minerva, and Asdrubale.
Does this man look like a cruel stage dad? I realized that I had to listen to Sofonisba’s voice, spoken so clearly through her brush strokes, if only I would get out of the way and let her talk. I had to stop trying to force a story I’d cooked up onto my characters and start to let the paintings lead my writing.

Looking into Amilcare’s eyes, I saw that he was gentle and kind, playful yet brave. It was easy to understand him because that was how my father was. What a joy it was to write about Amilcare once I let him be who he should be.

The beauty of writing a novel about a portraitist who painted friends and family is that a source for figuring out the characters is right at hand. Best of all, I had a visual record of my main character.

Who needs letters and other archival information when one can just look into those large clear eyes and see the brave young woman within? Coupled with her sensitive portraits of young Elisabeth of Valois (who looks as if she’s staunching a chuckle),

or King Felipe II, so maligned by his enemies, (and feared by Sofi,) yet so obviously kind and good, as seen in this painting Sofi did a few years after my story took place,

I had all the material I needed. I just had to listen.

Thanks Lynn!  There's still time to enter to win a copy of Creation of Eve. Just leave a comment by March 21s at 12 p.m.

March Madness: Giveaways of Invitation to Dance and The Creation of Eve

Happy Ides of March everyone! This month I'm giving away two books. The first one is Lynn Cullen's The Creation of Eve which I reviewed at the beginning of the month. The second book is An Invitation to Dance by Irish author Marion Urch, a novel about Lola Montez, who I have written about when I first started the blog.

Here is a sneak peek at An Invitation to Dance from the inside cover:

Set against the turbulent beginnings of the 19th century, An Invitation to Dance is an epic novel that sweeps from the margins of the Empire - Ireland and India - to its very heart, within the upper echelons of society in London and Europe, moving later to encompass America and Australia. In beautifully written, almost hypnotic prose she ushers us backstage and behind the headlines, to a cruel and sensual world of high stakes and shattered dreams. As she danced her way across Europe she left a string of admirers and scandals in her wake.  In Saxony, she became a source of inspiration for the romantic composer, Franz Liszt. In Bavaria, she caused the abdication of King Ludwig I.

This giveaway is only open to US residents.  Contest ends on March 21st at 12 noon.

Here are the rules:

1) Leave your name and email address in the comments section along with which book you are interested in.
2) If you tweet about the giveaway, and let me know, you get an extra entry.
3) If you are not a follower of the blog, and become one, you get an extra entry.

Scandalous Women welcomes Guest Blogger Jo Manning

Scandalous Women is pleased to welcome Guest Blogger Jo Manning. Jo Manning is the author of two Regency romances, The Reluctant Guardian and Seducing Mr. Heywood (a Booklist Ten Best Romances of the Year selection), and The Sicilian Amulet, a contemporary romance. She was also the founder and director of the Reader's Digest General Books Library for over twenty years. Manning divides her time between London and Miami Beach. My Lady Scandalous is her first work of nonfiction.


On the 20th of May I will be at the Dr Johnson House Museum in London giving a talk on three prominent 18th-century artists and their favorite models.

This presentation is an outgrowth of the research I undertook on the London art scene when I was writing My Lady Scandalous, the biography of Grace Dalrymple Elliott, a famous courtesan (Simon & Schuster, 2005). I focused on three portraitists: Thomas Gainsborough, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and George Romney. There were points of congruence amongst all of them, but also some points of divergence, which made them fascinating to me. Their relationships with the women whom I believed were their favorite sitters was/is also fascinating and worthy, I think, of a dissertation. This is just scratching the surface

Frick Collection portrait by Thomas Gainsborough, circa 1782, when Grace was newly pregnant with the child she claimed was the daughter of the Prince of Wales

Grace Elliott was painted twice by Gainsborough (who was a great landscape artist as well as a portraitist), and I have seen sketches for a possible third portrait in the archives of the National Portrait Gallery. This wonderful portrait-bust graces (pun intended!) the cover of my book, and I believe it shows what a beauty she really was, contrary to Gainsborough’s other – and perhaps more famous – portrait of her. A full-length portrait executed in what critics describe as in the style of Van Dyck, it shows her tall, beautiful figure to great advantage in a splendid gold silk gown but her profile is positively haggish, making her look more like Margaret Hamilton (the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz) rather than Princess Diana of Wales, whom I believe she greatly resembled.

Portraits by leading painters such as Gainsborough did not come cheaply. In today’s currency, his paintings were roughly in the $30-40,000 range. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was probably Gainsborough’s only serious rival in London, charged Grace’s French lover, the Duc d’Orleans, 250 Guineas (about $40,000) for a full-length portrait. (According to Orleans’ biographer, that fee was “considered dear by Philippe’s friends in England.” Since he was the richest man in France, however, perhaps Reynolds thought he could get away with padding his bill slightly.)

The painting is exquisite; the modeling of Grace’s face much less so

That one of England’s most prominent artists painted this courtesan showed she was highly regarded by her lover(s). (By comparison, I noted a long time ago that the notorious Harriette Wilson never sat for a portrait. There are courtesans…and then there are prostitutes…and there is a difference.) Who paid for these expensive Gainsborough portraits? Probably her longtime paramour Lord Cholmondeley; Prinny, alas, was a cheapskate when it came to his women.
There were a lot of painters working in 18th-century England. Definitive figures, however, are impossible to verify. In a letter of Horace Walpole’s, he gave the number 20,000, which seems excessively – if not ridiculously -- high to me; James Northcote (a student of Reynolds’ and later his biographer) estimated the number of painters in London to be 800, which seems rather more reasonable, but, again, hard to verify. Look at these figures against the growing population of London – approaching a million during this period – and the movement of artists to the big city from all over England – as well as the continent -- to make their fortunes. (None of the three painters in this discussion were London-born.)

Alfred Drury’s sculpture of Reynolds in the Burlington House courtyard is festooned with a garland of fresh flowers every year on the painter’s birthday


Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) was knighted by King George III in 1769, a year after he became the first president of the Royal Academy; in 1784 he became the official Court Painter. He was one of eleven children of a Devon schoolmaster; his was not a privileged upbringing and there were no artists in his family. (He shared this last with Gainsborough and Romney; there were no artists in any of their families.) Reynolds traveled to Italy to study, as did many painters of the time, and settled in London in 1753, becoming the dominant portraitist of his time.

Sir William Chambers attempting to slay the 8-headed hydra of an RA rival, the Incorporated Society of Artists! Chambers, an architect and one of the original founding members – like Reynolds – of the RA – was the builder of Somerset House

Some 3,000+ paintings have been attributed to Reynolds. It was said of him that he could complete a face in 3-4 hours of sittings. (A sitting usually lasted one hour.) He was a workaholic who often had up to five sittings a day, and he was even known to work on Sundays. A gregarious, generous, friendly fellow and a popular host, he interacted with the capitol’s literary, political, and artistic intelligentsia in an informal group was dubbed “The” Club. There was no Mrs. Reynolds. His sister Fanny was his first housekeeper; her daughter Mary, his niece, succeeded her. In appearance, Reynolds was neither handsome nor physically striking. He was about 5’6” with dark brown curls, a florid complexion, and large features; his face was broad and scarred by smallpox; the bridge of his nose was slightly dented and his upper lip was disfigured (the results of falling off a horse). Nonetheless, he was not considered ugly. One contemporary described his appearance as that of a “well-born and well-bred English gentleman,” though, of course, he was neither. He had a sense of humor, was a good conversationalist, and noted for his politeness and good manners. He never lost his Devonshire accent.

Reynolds painted himself in an homage to Rembrandt circa 1780

I could only find two Reynolds detractors among the many in his circle: Hester Thrale Piozzi, who called him “lukewarm,” and his niece Mary, who said after his death that he was “a gloomy tyrant.” It’s possible that Reynolds was lukewarm to Piozzi, hence her statement; Mary probably expected to be left more in his will than he did. These detractors – and my speculation aside -- the point is that Reynolds was arguably one of the most highly regarded of men in London. Encomiums galore! An aside on the Royal Academy…it became (and still is) the established society for artists, marginalizing other established groups. Its success was rooted in its royal patronage, the well-regarded school it ran, its huge and well-attended exhibitions, and through its promotion of art appreciation throughout the country. It fostered national standards of taste. A member of the RA – those initials appended after the name of the member -- was able to command higher fees than other artists and this is true even today.


Some 3,000+ paintings have been attributed to Reynolds. It was said of him that he could complete a face in 3-4 hours of sittings. (A sitting usually lasted one hour.) He was a consummate workaholic who often had up to five sittings a day, and he was even known to work on Sundays. (His sitters books – the record of his clients -- are voluminous.)




A gregarious, generous, friendly fellow and a popular host, he interacted with the capitol’s literary, political, and artistic intelligentsia in an informal group dubbed “The” Club. There was no Mrs. Reynolds. His sister Fanny was his first housekeeper; her daughter Mary, his niece, succeeded her. In appearance, Reynolds was neither handsome nor physically striking. He was about 5’6” with dark brown curls, a florid complexion, and large features; his face was broad and scarred by smallpox; the bridge of his nose was slightly dented and his upper lip was disfigured (the results of falling off a horse). Nonetheless, he was not considered ugly. One contemporary described his appearance as that of a “well-born and well-bred English gentleman,” though, of course, he was neither. He had a sense of humor, was a good conversationalist, and well noted for his politeness and good manners. He never lost his Devonshire accent.


I could only find two Reynolds detractors among the many in his circle. Dr. Johnson’s good friend Hester Thrale Piozzi wrote of him, “His temper was too frigid; his pencil too warm…,” summarizing his character as “lukewarm” at best. Reynolds’ niece Mary said after his death that he was “a gloomy tyrant.” It’s possible Reynolds was particularly lukewarm to the outspoken Piozzi, hence her statement; Mary probably was unhappy because she was left less in her uncle’s will than she expected. These detractors – and my speculation aside -- the point is that Reynolds was arguably one of the most highly regarded of men in London. Encomiums galore abounded.


As I mentioned, there was no Mrs. Reynolds, and therein lies more speculation. Reynolds liked women, but particularly actresses, courtesans and those in-between. Dan Cruickshank, in his provocative book The Secret History of Georgian London, commented: “Clearly Reynolds loved to execute full-size portraits of prostitutes and actresses…women relatively relaxed within their own bodies. There is wit and warmth in these works – the feeling that artist and sitter were sharing a conspiratorial joke and almost subversively mocking the hypocritical ethos of the age, that they were intimate in spirit if not in the flesh.” He adds, “These portraits are painted with evident affection, and none more so than the series of Kitty Fisher…[she] liberated Reynolds’ imagination, stimulated his creativity, inspired his admiration and was a muse to him in the true antique manner.”
I am not alone in noting the obvious affection for this particular woman among those he painted. She was arguably his favorite sitter. Were they lovers? Again, Reynolds never married, though it was widely believed he had affairs with his favorite models, but this is speculative. From studying the portraits of his favorites, I am willing to go along with the affairs-with-his-models theory, but there’s also a minority opinion he may have been gay. There’s absolutely no evidence for the latter. So, then, why did he not marry one of these women? Marriage was the norm in those days. If I had to guess, though, it would be that the workaholic painter had time for affairs but none for a longer relationship with one woman, despite evidence of affection with more than one of them; he was married to his work.




The biographer of Dr. Johnson, James Boswell, once quoted Reynolds as saying “the reason he would never marry was that every woman whom he liked had grown indifferent to him, and he had been glad he did not marry her.” An interesting remark, if not slightly defensive in tone. Was he unable, then, to pay the requisite amount of attention to one special female? It’s possible; he was surrounded by some very beautiful, vivacious, and interesting women. It may have been hard to settle for just one and they may have grown tired of waiting for him to make up his mind.



In my slide presentation I say that Reynolds’ favorite female sitters embodied beauty, courage, and panache, as well as a whiff or two of scandal. In the Tate Britain exhibition of several years ago, Joshua Reynolds, The Creation Of Celebrity, his portraits were divided into seven categories, one of which was Painted Women. This grouping comprised the afore-mentioned actresses and courtesans and among them are his most famous and evocative renderings.
Let’s look at Kitty Fisher. Kitty Fisher (?-1767) – aka Catherine Maria Fischer -- had a luminous beauty, lovingly captured by Reynolds’ brush. She was one of the most celebrated courtesans of her day, and Kitty Fisher anecdotes abound. How many courtesans are immortalized in nursery rhymes?

Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it;

But ne’er a penny was there in’t;

Except the binding round it…
(A “pocket” is slang for a protector, a lover, in other words.)

Cleopatra Dissolving The Pearl

Born to working-class parents in London, Kitty was said to be intelligent, vivacious, and kind. (Also fluent in French.) At one time she was said to have been supported by a number of aristocrats and gentlemen who were members of Arthur’s, a men’s club. Reynolds painted at least seven portraits of Kitty, according to a tally made after his death. (There were probably more; some may have been misidentified.) Each one is lovelier than the one before, and among them are Kitty Fisher As Cleopatra Dissolving The Pearl (1759), and Kitty with Reynolds’ pet parrot in her hand, circa 1763-4. The latter was not commissioned. (Most of his paintings of Kitty were uncommissioned.) This painting was in his private collection and left unfinished.
The portrait of Kitty as Cleopatra alludes, perhaps to the anecdote attributed to her of having eaten a hundred-pound-note between two slices of bread. (This anecdote has figures ranging from 20 pounds to one hundred.) Dissolving pearls, eating money… These things do lend to a girl’s allure! One critic drew attention to the irregular oval Kitty makes with her thumb and forefinger, saying it is meant to be a vulva. Indeed, the sexually-charged portraits of Kitty Fisher (the Cleopatra is especially languorous) – and the engravings made from these paintings -- only added to her immense celebrity. “Fishermania” was rife in London; young women copied her style of dress; journalists wrote obscene verses to her, and her images saturated the print shops.

Kitty and Reynolds’ pet parrot

The portrait of Kitty as Cleopatra alludes, perhaps to the anecdote attributed to her of having eaten a hundred-pound-note between two slices of bread. Dissolving pearls, eating money… These things do lend to a girl’s allure! Indeed, the sexually-charged portraits of Kitty Fisher (the Cleopatra is especially languorous) – and the engravings made from these paintings -- only added to her immense celebrity. “Fishermania” was rife in London; young women copied her style of dress; journalists wrote obscene verses to her, and her images saturated the print shops.

Nathaniel Hone portrait of Kitty Fisher, her cat, and the goldfish bowl

Another famous portrait of her – among many -- was by Nathaniel Hone, another member of the RA, shows Kitty’s reflection in a goldfish bowl, alluding to her celebrity status. I include it, though it’s not by Reynolds, because I love the conceit (the second meaning, an ingenious thought) at play. It’s hard to see here, but there are faces of a crowd of people looking in through her window. She is in the goldfish bowl, though not physically in it, and the fishing cat is a play on her name. (Everything means something in a portrait, as noted in the vulva comment above. The parrot is considered a lascivious bird.) Hone’s portrait is beautiful, but note how much softer Reynolds’ brush strokes on the other two paintings are, how much more ethereal and dreamlike he makes Kitty seem.

One dour and skeptical critic speculated that what went on between Fisher and Reynolds was not a love affair at all, but a cold-blooded business arrangement, and that it should not be romanticized. Both the artist and the courtesan earned a good deal of money having these portraits printed and sold in the print shops, this individual asserted, and that was the sum total of their relationship: the money to be made. That Reynolds never finished the parrot painting, however, painted it for himself, and kept it himself for the rest of his life, suggests to me that he might really have had a soft spot in his heart for his lovely sitter, if not actually engaged in a sexual relationship with her. Kitty Fisher, by this time a wealthy woman, would die in 1767, four months to two years – it’s unclear -- after her marriage to the MP John Norris and her move out of London to his country home. (Various causes have been bruited about for her untimely death: the white lead in her cosmetics; smallpox; and tuberculosis.) Reynolds could have made money – if that was indeed his only motive for painting Kitty Fisher – by selling this canvas and having hundreds of prints made from it. He did not. And one other thing has to be considered. Kitty Fisher and her ilk were not so far removed from Reynolds’ class, his upbringing. They had more in common than he did with all the society women he painted.

Jo's series will continue over the next few weeks. You can still purchase Jo's book My Lady Scandalous from Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

Everything Eleanor - New Novels about Eleanor of Aquitaine

Recently I was putting together an appendix for Scandalous Women of all the films and fiction adaptations that have been done, when I discovered that at least 4 new historical fiction novels are coming out within the next five months featuring Eleanor of Aquitaine as a major character.

One of the first new books is called The Queen's Pawn by Christy English. This is Christy's first book and it looks like an interesting one. Here's a sneak peek:

At only nine, Princess Alais of France is sent to live in England until she is of age to wed Prince Richard, son of King Henry II and Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Alais is an innocent pawn on the chessboard of dynastic marriage, her betrothal intended to broker an uneasy truce between the nations. Estranged from her husband, Eleanor sees a kindred spirit in this determined young girl. She embraces Alais as a daughter, teaching the princess what it takes to be a woman of power in a world of men. But as Alais grows to maturity and develops ambitions of her own, Eleanor begins to see her as a threat-and their love for each other becomes overshadowed by their bitter rivalry, dark betrayals, conflicting passions, and a battle for revenge over the throne of England itself.

Sounds good no? I'm really interested in reading it.

 

Touchstone Books is reprinting Norah Lofts Eleanor The Queen in April with a smashing new cover. And Alison Weir, author of a highly acclaimed biography of Eleanor, has a new historical novel out in July called The Captive Queen: A Novel of Eleanor of Aquitaine from Ballantine, and Cecelia Holland has a novel coming out in August from Berkley called The Second Eleanor which from the brief description seems to be dealing with the early years of Eleanor's marriage to Henry II, starting with their relationship when she was still married to Louis.

 

Even after 800 years, Eleanor still holds a great deal of allure for readers. She's long been a heroine of mine, and I love reading other writers interpretations of her. So, is anyone else looking forward to any of these books besides me?

Scandalous Book Review: The Creation of Eve by Lynn Cullen

Title:  The Creation of Eve
Author:  Lynn Cullen
Publisher: Putnam, March 2010

From the back cover: The Creation of Eve is a novel based on the true but little known story of Sofonisba Anguissola, the first renowned female artist of the Renaissance. After a scandal in Michaelangelo's workshop, Sofi flees Italy and joins the Spanish court of King Felipe II to be a lady-in-waiting to his young bride. There she becomes embroiled in a love triangle involving the Queen, the King and the King's illegitimate half brother Don Juan.  The Creation of Eve combines art, romance, and history from the Golden Age in Spain in a story that asks the question: Can you ever truly know another person's heart?

My thoughts: When I first heard about this book from Trish and Lydia at Penguin, I couldn't wait to read it and review it. It sounded like a book that was after my own heart. Set in Spain in the years 1560-1568, Lynn Cullen provides a view of the Spanish Court through the eyes of Sofi, who is in a unique position, one that she never sought for herself. The back cover says "A lush and compelling tale of intrigue and longing" and the book has that in spades. Sofi longs for Tiberio Calcagni, a fellow painter who she met at Michaelangelo's workshop, Elisabeth of Valois longs for Don Juan, the King's half-brother, and Felipe's son Don Carlos longs for Elisabeth.

Anyone who has read Schiller's play or seen Verdi's opera knows of Don Carlo's unrequited love for Elisabeth. Cullen has added the extra dollop of spice by imaging that it is actually Don Juan who Elisabeth longs for, which makes a great deal of sense when you think about it. Don Juan, as described by Cullen, is a younger, gentler, version of the King who has not been worn down by years of ruling a kingdom that now stretches from Holland, parts of Italy through the New World.

Cullen does an amazing job at reacreating the Spanish Court, particularly the infighting between Elisabeth's French ladies and her Spanish ones. Reading the book, the reader can feel the heat of the Spanish sun bearing down relentlessly and the damp and dankness of the Royal Palace.  I felt reading the book that I was getting a rare glimpse into a world that hasn't often been seen in historical fiction. Sofi is the perfect choice to narrate this novel.  As both Elisabeth's lady-in-waiting and her painting instructore, she is in a unique position to tell the story. Because she is a painter, Sofi has a keen eye for detail. The relationship between the two women is wonderfully depicted, as Elisabeth grows from a giddy teenager, into a more mature Queen. Sofi, despite herself, finds herself caring for deeply for the Queen which leads her to make a brash decision. She is also torn between her life in Spain and the one she left behind.

The revelation for me in this book was the portrait of Felipe II of Spain, who is generally seen as Mary Tudor's husband, who had no use for her and treated her cruelly. In Cullen's depiction, he comes across as a man who can be both tender and cruel, both to his wife and to his son. King of Spain since the age of 18, he's spent most of his life trying to hold on to what Spain already possesses as well as expanding their territories in the new world. One feels sympathy for Felipe, who has married a young girl 18 years his junior, he loves her yet he still treats her like a little girl, giving her treats.

As a history geek, I was like a giddy school girl reading the scenes where Elisabeth goes to meet her mother, the formidable and scary Catherine de Medici. And the looming knowledge that the Inquisition has eyes everywhere is brought home with the story of Michaelangelo. Cullen hews closely to the facts of her story. While the romantic in me would have loved to have seen a love story between Sofi and the Dutch doctor Debruyne, that was not part of Sofi's story.  There was so much meaty stuff in this book, I could write about it all day. The language is just delicious, and the minor characters are skillfully and vividly drawn.

I cannot highly recommend this book enough. Just to give you an idea of how much I liked this book, even though I haven't slept in almost two months, trying to get my book in on time to my editor, I willingly stayed up all night finishing The Creation of Eve because I couldn't put it down.

Verdict: 4 1/2 pearls out of 5

For more information about the book and the author:  http://www.lynncullen.com/