The Real Hellfire Club

There are many groups that have taken on the moniker of 'The Hellfire Club', both from Ireland and England. One of the earliest was that led by Philip, Duke of Wharton back in 1719, but the one I want to focus on is the group led by Sir Francis Dashwood through the 1750s.

In common misconception this group, called by Dashwood the ‘Brotherhood of St. Francis of Wycombe’, has been viewed as Satanists or else worshippers of some Pagan God, being all anti-Christian and evil. This is probably not the case, and instead the Hellfire Club was in truth more likely to be a meeting of like minded individuals who considered themselves (at the time) free thinkers.

Dashwood himself was a 18th Century toff, who having completed his grand tour of Europe returned to England full of the grandeur of the past and a love of art, literature and architecture. He gathered around him a group of like minded individuals including the Politician (and immensely fat) George Bubb Dodington, the artist and satirist William Hogarth, and the journalist John Wilkes (known as the ugliest man in Britain). Other people of prominence included politicians, poets and artists and might have included Benjamin Franklin.

It was at his estate Medmenham Abbey in Buckinghamshire that most of the meetings took place, at first in the Gothic Abbey with its updated decor including statues of Harpocrates, the Egyptian god of silence and Angerona, the Roman goddess of silence and other over the top Pagan imagery. Later on Dashwood moved the group to a series of man made tunnels that he had got local workers to carve for him during a failed harvest. These caves are what probably resulted in the talk that the group were involved in all sorts of daemonic orgies and blood worship. It was probably more likely that Dashwood was a bit of trickster and liked to be known as a man of mystery, when in truth they probably sat around, got exceptionally drunk and told each other rude or salacious jokes.

The club ended in 1762 when the Earl of Bute appointed Dashwood his Chancellor of the Exchequer, despite Dashwood being widely held to be incapable of understanding "a bar bill of five figures". It seems he now achieved some respectability and though his role only lasted a year (after he did indeed mess up) the group pretty much ended their meetings.

John Wilkes best described the group: 'A set of worthy, jolly fellows, happy disciples of Venus and Bacchus, got occasionally together to celebrate woman in wine and to give more zest to the festive meeting, they plucked every luxurious idea from the ancients and enriched their own modern pleasures with the tradition of classic luxury'.

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G. P. Taylor used to be a vicar, if you haven’t looked that fact up you would have soon concluded something similar from Shadowmancer, as religion and the Christian faith plays a large part in its construction. Unfortunately, it plays too large a part and ends up distracting from what could have been a good dark fantasy.
Set in a slightly altered North Yorkshire, Taylor has mixed folklore and myth with sorcery, magic and pirating to tell the story of Thomas and his friends, the religious Raphah and the fiery Kate as they go up against the corrupt and sinister Obadiah Demurral (he does use some wonderful naming for his characters).
When a mysterious religious relic is obtained by Obadiah all of hell is literally released through the mans’ greed and incompetence, leading the children in a dangerous game as they attempt to escape fate. This is good story telling, a little let down by lack of editing (it was his first novel and was originally self published) but his constant harping on about what’s right and wrong and poorly concealed Christian undertones tend to undermine the story. I have read one of his later novels (see Mariah Mundi) where the religious aspect has been toned down, and that was much the better book for it.

A little book picked up because Mckean was the artist, The Savage is a simple and beautifully told story about a boy coming to terms with the loss of his father. Part graphic novel part story book, Blue works through the trauma of loss by writing his own story about a savage boy who lives in the woods, but as he writes the Savage takes on a life of his own.
Supported by Mckean’s great ink work, shaded in twilight blue and forest green, this little book is for anyone who wants to see how simple yet effective good writing can be. I would recommend this to adults and children alike.

Read this week:

Shadowmancer by G. P. Taylor
The Savage by David Almond

Post 100!!!

Having reached post 100, we're having a bit of a party, Blogger is currently mixing some vicious looking cocktails while I'm busy putting the finishing touches to the pineapple and cheese on sticks. I imagine it'll go on late into the night, with the 'Best of Black Lace' being played at full volume until the neighbours complain.

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I'm in research mode at the moment. I have a trip planned to London for January so I need to start researching all the places I want to visit. I have a rough idea for the second book but now need to put several months of notes behind it. I'll be using this blog to record any ideas or interesting bits of information until I begin to write the book around February time.

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I picked up Varjak Paw because the artist was Dave McKean. It's a simple story about a naive young cat who must overcome its embarrassment about being different if it to return to the house on the hill where it once lived in pampered luxury. To do this the Mesopotamian Blue must learn the Way of Jalal, a martial arts for cats, taught by its long dead ancestor and in the process learn there is more about life than free food.
It's a simple fable, beautifully told and of course illustrated in Mckean's simple black pen master strokes. It's the sort of book you read in an afternoon but the story stays with you for much longer.

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Well, I've got to go now; Blogger has locked herself in the bathroom after trying it on with Google. It's going to be a long night...

Read this week:
Varjack Paw by SF Said.

Seeing Everyone

Feels like I’ve been everywhere and seen everyone this weekend. After a boozy night in the pub last Thursday I, accompanied by Madame Vin, the Aussie and a Canadian, travelled early to Nottingham where I met up with Sammy (all the way from New Zealand) and Tash and my ‘woman of the year’ (back from LA – and doing very well. Hopefully, if she’ll let me, I’ll post some exciting news from her here soon). Then it was over to the hospital to visit my last surviving grandparent (who thankfully, looked better than I hoped) and finally to the old home of Radcliffe-on-Trent to the retirement party of the Silver Fox.

The next day it was more family, including a new arrival, before stepping out with friends, friends, friends and admittedly drinking too much.

Sunday was home, rest and Sunday dinner.

At least I got a lot of reading done.

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The Graveyard Book
I'm not afraid to say it - I love Mr. Gaiman. He has the most beautiful style of writing, summing up an emotion, a feeling or a character in a simply yet eloquent fashion. The Graveyard book is one of his novels for children that can be read by adults (think Coraline). Based loosely on the Jungle Book in its construction, the story deals with Nobody Owens and his life growing up in a graveyard high on a hill in an English town (it reads like Lincoln but this might just be the reader putting his own experiences on top of the narrative).
Starting off as a baby and escaping from a dark shadowy figure who has just murdered his family Bod is taken in by dead people, who view their deaths as just an interesting event on life's highway and see it as no reason why it should interrupt their living.
Each chapter is spaced several years apart with Bod growing and learning about life and being a human via the ghosts, spirits, ghouls and more mythical creatures that inhabit his living space. The first few chapters could be read as short stories while the last four allow Bod to work out where he came from and where he's going. Magical!

Death: The High Cost of Living
Another Gaiman. Set in his Sandman mythos, every century Death must become mortal for 24 hours so that she can find out about life. This story is slight and amusing with the Goth personification of Death spending her day in New York with a young man who begins by contemplating the taking of his own life and ends by understanding its worth and magic. The comic has been under review for several years as a possible movie and within Sandman is probably the only possible filmable story arc.

Little (Grrl) Lost
It is such a shame that Charles De Lint is not better known in the UK. His stories are magical and human and deep and mythical all at the same time. He has created a world (Newford) where anything can happen (and usually does) but it always makes sense and seems perfectly logically. Rarely do I see his books on the shelves of Waterstones or the larger book stores and have to rely on independent shops and US imports.
T.J. is a teenager suffering from the anxiety of having moved from the country to a strange city, leaving her friends and her horse behind. She is suffering from the mental growing pains all teenagers go through and feels hard done by. She meets Elizabeth, an older girl who is spunky and cool and forthright but has her own problems being only eight inches high.
Elizabeth is a Small and she lives behind the skirting board. This is 'The Borrowers' for the modern age, mixing in texting, broken families, email, punk and motorbikes and coming up with something that is uniquely De Lint.

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I read three other books but they are all reviews so you’ll have to read Dark Horizon’s for my low down.

I was out Friday night but a clip from the new Doctor Who was shown on the Beeb as part of Children in Need. You can see it again here.

Read this week:

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Death: The High Cost of Living by Neil Gaiman
Little (Grrl) Lost by Charles De Lint