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Archive for Travel

Encounters with the Fantastic — A Fantastic Doll’s House

fairy castle 2Any fantasy author can talk about encounters with the fantastic in the real world.  We’ve all had them, or we wouldn’t write what we do.

Usually, I blame my choice of profession, and subject on the fact I learned to read out of The Wizard of Oz.  But there were other influences.  One of the strongest was, and still is, in Chicago.

My grandparents lived in Chicago, and we used to go visit a couple of times a year.  My mother, who was really hoping to raise pratical minded children who understood the value of hard, practical work, would take us to the Museum of Science and Industry.  She wanted me to be interested in things like the coal mine.  Never worked.  Whenever we went, the only think I wanted to see was the fairy castle.

This thing was amazing.  It’s big, but when I was five it looked ENORMOUS.  It was a toy for an old-time movie star, so it was as detailed and opulent as a Hollywood imagination could conceive.  The glass slippers waiting for Cinderella were hollow.  The books were legible, if you had a magnifying glass.  The paintings on the walls were done by hand.

I was in love with this castle.  I used to make up stories about it.  I bought the souvenir book and poured over the pages.  I think I still have it somewhere.  Probably I saw other things in the museum, but this was the thing I remembered.  This was the glamour and the magic what I fell in love with.

Never have gone down into that coal mine, but I never seem to have quite left that castle.

fairy castle

Sweet Home Chicago

From the time I started thinking seriously about the American Fairy books, I was sure Callie and Jack were going to end up in Chicago.  It was, in fact, one of the first things I knew about their story.

Fairies and magic have always been linked to beauty, creativity and glamor.  For a story set in the 1930s, it was easy to take this and run with it so that the Seelie Court — the bright, beautiful, literally glamourous fairy — would gather in and around Hollywood.  Once I realized that the focus for the Unseelie was going to be jazz — wilder, dangerous, villified, any yet profoundly powerful, that made New York city, a natural base of operations for them (yes, jazz has its origins New Orleans, and strong roots in Kansas City and St. Louis, among other places.  Jazz comes at you from all directions).

That made Chicago the middle ground.  A strong city with its own history, it’s own character and characters, filled to the brim with all the tensions and creativity that make America unique.

The Second City also happens to be my first city.  My mother grew up there, my father went to school there.  I joke about their mixed marriage — he was a White Sox fan, she was a Cubs fan.  I visited my grandparents there, spent hours in the Field Museum, saw the Christmas displays in the Marshall Fields windows and ate Frango mints when that was the only place you could get them.  There’s still something about downtown Chicago that feels more comfortable to me than any other city.  It’s still the place where the train tracks meet and the music, the blues, is distinct.  It’s a place where people come looking for work, looking to profit, looking to hide.

It was the only place I could picture Jack and Callie making their stand.

Sweet Home Chicago

 

My Romantic Times — Day 1

2014-05-14 13.23.19There’re a lot of reasons for an author to go to the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention.  For starters, it’s packed with readers who love all kinds of books.  Second, it’s packed full of all kinds of great pros.

This year, the third reason was it was in New Orleans.

For me, the trip did not start on a high note.  The flight down was as pleasant as a flight can be these days, even though we had to set out at OHMYGODWHOSEIDEAWASTHIS-thirty in the morning.  Even though we had to change planes in Charlotte.  The Charlotte airport, by the way, has a lovely atrium with trees and rocking chairs, and some fairly decent barbeque, so it is now high on my list of decent airports.

Anyway, on the second leg, I began feeling the ominous prickling that meant I had not in fact dodged my husband’s cold as I had hoped.  Bleh.

Still, flight was uneventful, got to the hotel just fine and checked in.  I will say here the J.W. Marriott provided great service for the entire stay.  And they are not giving me extra loyalty points for that.

I was rooming with the fabulous Cindy Spencer Pape and after we got unpacked and registered, we did what comes natural.  We went out into the French Quarter to shop and dine.  Mostly we stuck to Chartres and Royal, and O.M. Friggin’ G. did we see the shinies and the pretties.  Oh, and then there were these guys:

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On the way down Chartes, we found a great little bar/restaurant whose name I’m forgetting and I had chicken and waffles for the first time.  Unfortunately, I found I really like it, especially with honey glaze and hot sauce.  Don’t judge me.

On the way back, while purusing the vintage and antique pretties, we also found Cafe Biegnet, and I got to be there when Cindy had her first.  I hadn’t been to NOLA for over a decade, and the bienets were as good as I remembered, if not a little bit better.  Now, I know most people say Cafe Du Monde for your biegnet needs, but I myself am a Cafe Biegnet partisan for a couple of reasons: 1) bigger biegnets and 2) sheltered seating which reduces the instance of powdered sugar attacks.

It having been an unbelievably early morning, it was declared an early night.  Especially as my cold was not getting any better, and doing so fairly rapidly.