There was a time, centuries after the fall of Rome, when northern Italy blossomed with the rediscovery of ancient culture. Perspective returned to
painting, form to sculpture, and new artists expanded upon the ancient
techniques. These times saw the rise of the printing press and the spreading of
literacy. The new age brought political turmoil and religious revolution through the Protestant Reformation.
The works of figures such as Copernicus and Galileo shaped science into a semblance of its modern form. Through the cracks of feudal Europe, the modern
era broke soil.
We call this period the Renaissance.
The richness of the Italian Renaissance renders the era a wonderful setting for a tale. But for my
forthcoming novel, Rosaria of Venice,
I was not satisfied with a period piece. My favorite type of fiction is science
fiction, so the Renaissance in which the characters of Rosaria of Venice live is not the Renaissance of our past. In fact,
the Renaissance of the novel and its protagonist—Rosaria Adalberto—can be
more accurately described as a Renaissance of our future.
The novel begins in 1491 AD. Venice is a center of culture
and innovation, as it was in our history. But in this alternate universe, it is
also at the heart of an industrial revolution. Coal plants supplant water
mills, steam boats sail the Adriatic in the place of galleys, and the great
artisans of the time run not workshops, but factories. The promise of
electrical power hangs in the ether, and Rosaria Adalberto dedicates her
life to discovering the principles of electromagnetism.
As a daughter of Venetian nobility, her station permits her
to conduct her research despite the disregard of society for
polymaths of her sex. Her life’s work falls into danger, however, when her home
and laboratory burns to cinders in a fire—the fruits of her research consumed
by flame. The bargain she eventually makes to rebuild her lab, and to complete her
research, only places her in further danger. At stake is her own life—and the
lives of her dearest comrades—at the hands of a conspiracy with dark designs
for this new age. This, the first volume of the Renaissance of Rosaria Adalberto, represents her first brush with that cabal.
The genre of alternate history permits great artistic license, but that license is not total. In order to write a science-fictional Renaissance, it was essential for me to
learn some of the actual history of our Renaissance. Knowing actual history permits a writer to make
informed decisions when building a new timeline. Even if a steam-powered
Renaissance is remarkable, shaping its events as if they were the natural
course of history allows us to tell such absurd little tales with startling
conviction.
So before writing Rosaria of Venice, I had an abundance of homework: the political circumstances of Venice in the
Renaissance, the progression of the actual Industrial Revolution in the 19th
century, the changes brought about by Columbus’s contact with the New World,
and so on. I still have much to learn. But
one subject I made certain to examine was the lot of women in the 15th
century: a topic that, with a female protagonist, I could not afford to
neglect.
In the 21st century, the notion of a woman as
equal to her male peers is not so revolutionary. While reactionaries dig in
their heels at the thought, and the media at large has a shoddy track record of
doing justice to its female characters, the notion is common, and has persisted
for decades. When readers meet Rosaria—a polymath who prefers men’s clothing
and is skilled with a blade—they won’t find the notion scandalous. Were she a
real person living today, you might read about her in a magazine.
Indeed, such a woman might feature in three magazines: a
scientific journal, a feminist publication, and perhaps, depending upon her identity, an
LGBT periodical. A woman who did such things in the Renaissance might have been immortalized in song—but only if she was written about at all.
There were Renaissance women, of course. Caterina Sforza comes
to mind. She was born of the illegitimate union of Galeazzo Maria Sforza and
Lucrezia Landriani, and when her father ascended to the Duchy of Milan, she and her siblings accompanied him to court. There, tutors instructed
her in the humanist tradition, granting an education to match that of any male
noble. From her father’s mother, she acquired a respect for the arts of war and
government. (Wikipedia, 2013)
Caterina’s early mentors prepared her well for her later
life. In adulthood, she successfully navigated the cloak-and-dagger politics of
15th-century Italy, eventually establishing herself as the Countess
of Forlì. Her mastery of politics, efficient management of her state, and
fierce defense of her realm in war against Venice earned her the name of Il Tigre, or the Tiger of Forlì. Her personal life was well-rounded with the pursuits of dancing, hunting, and alchemy. (Wikipedia, 2013).
But Sforza was an exception to a dismal rule. The tiger of
Forli’s legendary stature was made possible only by her fortunate birth into
power and station But even amongst nobles, few indeed were the women who even
approached her in power, skill, or even independence. The society of
Renaissance Italy relegated women to an aesthetic—even decorative—role.
Historian Joan Kelley describes these circumstances with
poignancy in her essay “Did Women Have a Renaissance?” To illustrate her case,
she references a handbook for nobility written by Baldassare
Castiglione, who writes that "In a Lady who lives at court a certain
pleasing affability is becoming above all else, whereby she will be able to
entertain graciously every kind of man.”
By Kelley’s estimation, most women of
Renaissance nobility accepted their inferior station. To exemplify her point,
she deconstructs the image of “Elisabetta Gonzaga, the idealized duchess of
Castiglione's Courtier,”
who, according to Kelley:
“came close in real life to [Castiglione’s] normative portrayal of her type. Riding and skill in weaponry had, in fact, no significance for her. […] Her letters express none of the sense of freedom and daring Caterina Sforza and Beatrice d'Este experienced in riding and the hunt. Altogether, she lacks spirit. Her correspondence shows her to be as docile in adulthood as her early teachers trained her to be.”
Noblewomen
of the Renaissance could expect their greatest responsibilities to amount to
the commission of works of art for their husbands’ estates, as was the case
with Elisabetta Gonzaga. (Kelley, 1977) The artists who received their
patronage imbued their sculpture and paintings with the life that should have
been lived by the women who granted them the opportunity.
Ironically,
while Renaissance men propelled themselves forward in the new social order,
women were divested of much of the power they held in Medieval times, according
to Kelley. The practice of courtly love allowed for a localized reversal of roles in feudal society: the demands of war often left queens,
duchesses and countesses in command during their husbands’ absence. The
leverage this granted them allowed noblewomen to shape some conventions to
their own needs. (Kelley, 1977)
The
Renaissance of Rosaria Adalberto, though more advanced than ours in technology,
is not so advanced culturally. Like Sforza, Rosaria is an unusual individual in
her time. She is made even more unusual by her dedication to science, and her lack of
interest in society or politics. As an extraordinary person laboring under the
weight of a deformed culture, her own dissonance on the matter of sex
inevitably colors her exploits and adventures.
But
why choose such a world for Rosaria? Why not create a more egalitarian reality
for our beleaguered protagonist? The truth of the matter is that we are never
born into a just world. The threat of tyranny and injustice will always exist
in some form. Our only hope is to develop the courage to confront these challenges and build the better world we deserve. Fiction can show us the
way, much as mythology did in a more ancient time.
Besides,
it is not as if the modern West has seen a complete feminist victory. The
Institute for Women’s Policy Research estimates that American women still only
make 77 cents to the dollar as recently as the year 2010, and while the pay gap
is less within professions, research by the American Association of University
Women indicate that a woman could expect to be paid 7% less than a man working
the same job. (Dugas, 2012, USA Today)
Moreover,
the objectification of women in advertising and media is thoroughly documented
and persistent, Senators who fancy themselves experts try to regulate anatomy
they don’t possess, while pockets of misogyny fester and explode in the gaming subculture, and self-styled Men’s Rights Activists lash out against the liberties of women. Sexism dies hard. Given the
circumstances, we could use a few more women cast as heroes.
Of
course, there’s a question of whether a straight, white, bearded man can
effectively write a female protagonist. I’ll leave that question up to my
readers, but I fail to why that shouldn't be the case. I don’t believe men and women are the least
bit different, once you strip away all the nonsense we’re led to believe about
ourselves. At the core, everyone is only human. That is how I strive to portray
all of my characters. Rosaria is no exception, and I look forward to revealing
the tale of her adventures.
More
on my research for Rosaria of Venice
will be coming down the pipeline. Stay tuned, and spread the word!
Works Referenced:
Did Women Have a Renaissance? by Joan Kelley, 1977
Caterina Sforza, Wikipedia.org, retrieved 12 February 2013
Hot Topics: Pay and Equity Discrimination, Institute for Women's Policy Research at iwpr.org
Gender Pay Gap Persists, by Christine Dugas, USA Today, 24 October 2012
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