Guest Post: Clifford Beal, The Guns of Ivrea, and the Mermaid’s Tail
Although my historical fiction novels have contained a hefty dollop of the fantastical (some might even say a generously liberal application of it), I decided about two years ago that I wanted to write an epic fantasy. A retro epic fantasy. And by that I mean not 1970s Swords of Canasta stuff about little people with pointy ears, but rather, a fantasy that would use the tropes, myths, and imagery of the Renaissance era. The sort of fantasy story that da Vinci might pick up after putting down his paintbrush, or the Borgias might settle down to after a hard night’s assassination. Recognizable beasties, political intrigue, and fashion and technology. Above all, familiar customs in an unfamiliar place.
The Guns of Ivrea
Paperback $9.99
The Guns of Ivrea
Paperback $9.99
And I knew from the start that I wanted merfolk in it. Mermaids and mermen have been swimming in our collective conscious for centuries, the stuff of legend across many cultures from East to West, and as far back as the Assyrians. During the Renaissance in Europe, merfolk were a constant in storytelling, art, and design. The thought of having a vibrant race of merfolk interacting with human characters in a novel was an exciting one, and so The Guns of Ivrea was born. As I quickly discovered, the mechanics of writing about mermaids presents a few problems. The biggest was how can they interact with humans without either the human drowning or the mermaid asphyxiating. And having a woman who is a fish from the waist down cuts down considerably on the possibility of a fulfilling romantic relationship. Some stories, such as the medieval tale of Melusine, have gotten around this by having the mermaid take human form during the week, but I didn’t think a part-time mermaid would work for what I had in mind. I needed to recast merfolk to give me the flexibility to put them at the centre of the action.
And I knew from the start that I wanted merfolk in it. Mermaids and mermen have been swimming in our collective conscious for centuries, the stuff of legend across many cultures from East to West, and as far back as the Assyrians. During the Renaissance in Europe, merfolk were a constant in storytelling, art, and design. The thought of having a vibrant race of merfolk interacting with human characters in a novel was an exciting one, and so The Guns of Ivrea was born. As I quickly discovered, the mechanics of writing about mermaids presents a few problems. The biggest was how can they interact with humans without either the human drowning or the mermaid asphyxiating. And having a woman who is a fish from the waist down cuts down considerably on the possibility of a fulfilling romantic relationship. Some stories, such as the medieval tale of Melusine, have gotten around this by having the mermaid take human form during the week, but I didn’t think a part-time mermaid would work for what I had in mind. I needed to recast merfolk to give me the flexibility to put them at the centre of the action.
Gideon's Angel
Paperback $7.99
Gideon's Angel
Paperback $7.99
So I took a leaf from ethnography and created a race and a culture to go with it. My merfolk became a bit like dolphins: they’re air breathers, but just like aquatic mammals, they can hold their breath for a considerable amount of time and dive to great depths. Far longer and farther than any human. Skin colour, again like dolphins. No body hair, and facial features that might have evolved from a race that spends much time in the sea. But to play a truly interactive role in the plot, they would have to walk on land, so I gave them two legs, but with webbed feet and hands. I’m certainly not the first author to make merfolk bipedal—Marvel had the Submariner, Prince Namor, toe-tapping back in 1939. But I also borrowed from pre-industrial human cultures to explain how they live, work with tools, dress, and communicate. The idea was to make them a primitive indigenous culture to the island kingdom of Valdur, whose interactions over the centuries with humans had been fraught with misunderstanding and tragedy—not altogether unlike the experiences of renaissance-era explorers and the peoples of the Americas. And I shamelessly adapted from the legend of Pocahontas in one scene between the mer princess Citala and Nicolo Danamis, my pirate-turned-admiral for the king of Valdur.
The key was to strike the right balance of the exotic and alien, along with the practical for framing the novel and allowing maximum freedom in scene and plot. Not only was it challenging and fun from a writing perspective, it also gave me an appreciation for what fantasy is all about: using the fantastic, the strange, and the inhuman to give us deeper insight into what it’s like to be human.
The Guns of Ivrea is available now.
So I took a leaf from ethnography and created a race and a culture to go with it. My merfolk became a bit like dolphins: they’re air breathers, but just like aquatic mammals, they can hold their breath for a considerable amount of time and dive to great depths. Far longer and farther than any human. Skin colour, again like dolphins. No body hair, and facial features that might have evolved from a race that spends much time in the sea. But to play a truly interactive role in the plot, they would have to walk on land, so I gave them two legs, but with webbed feet and hands. I’m certainly not the first author to make merfolk bipedal—Marvel had the Submariner, Prince Namor, toe-tapping back in 1939. But I also borrowed from pre-industrial human cultures to explain how they live, work with tools, dress, and communicate. The idea was to make them a primitive indigenous culture to the island kingdom of Valdur, whose interactions over the centuries with humans had been fraught with misunderstanding and tragedy—not altogether unlike the experiences of renaissance-era explorers and the peoples of the Americas. And I shamelessly adapted from the legend of Pocahontas in one scene between the mer princess Citala and Nicolo Danamis, my pirate-turned-admiral for the king of Valdur.
The key was to strike the right balance of the exotic and alien, along with the practical for framing the novel and allowing maximum freedom in scene and plot. Not only was it challenging and fun from a writing perspective, it also gave me an appreciation for what fantasy is all about: using the fantastic, the strange, and the inhuman to give us deeper insight into what it’s like to be human.
The Guns of Ivrea is available now.