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Favorite Epigraph that never made it into the book
--Dina

One of my favorite things about Another Faust is the epigraphs at the beginning of every chapter. We actually had a lot of discussion about this whole concept with editors, early readers, and each other. On one hand, the epigraphs can be confusing and they might be a challenge to figure out. (In fact, almost every person I've asked still can't pick out where Goethe makes a guest appearance. I love that!) On the other hand, they add a sense of mystery and timelessness to the novel that makes it unique. And if there's one thing I've learned about being a writer, it's that whether or not people like you, you should strive always to be unique and different.

In the end, I'm glad the epigraphs stayed. My only wish is that we had room to put in all the various ideas we had (for that, of course, we would need a dozen books!). If you're read Another Faust, you know that the main point of the epigraphs is to show Vileroy's work throughout the ages and all the times that her path crosses with famous people in history and literature (and the way she just happens to be there during all the world's momentous events). Below is one of the epigraphs that was cut early in the game: Hector's battle with Achilles. The reason this epigraph was cut was that each epigraph actually relates to its chapter somehow (e.g., the epigraph about the blue box precedes the chapter about the book box, the epigraph about the moths precedes the chapter where the moths are introduced) and this one just didn't fit in.

"The deep iron cauldron swayed at the edge of the foremost battlement like a megakiloton globe on the shoulders of a giant. The archers lined the city wall, squinting to see the battlefield beneath the noonday sun. Under the waving flags, above the main gate, stood the warrior with a crimson flash on his helmet. The archers near him stood away from respect, and from fear of the flaxen-haired woman with him.

The woman with blanched skin was beautiful and awful. She looked into the bubbling oil in the cauldron and touched it with her hand. The warrior saw something in the black pool. It was himself, the day before, fighting outside the city gates, shield and spear cutting through armies. His men rallied behind him, yelling his name, "Hector! Hector!" The woman touched the boiling liquid again. They saw the great Achilles, his stride like a hind, his killing a beautiful dance. Hector understood the vision the woman had given him. His own maid servant, first among his house, had shown him his killer. It would be at the hands of the invulnerable one. Hector looked up, at his men, at the merciless eyes of the woman, at the Greek army advancing. They had already begun battering the gates below. He looked at her and walked down the battlement. He would die a good death‹one worth a good story. She stood above the gates alone, the army churning below her. She turned to leave, but before doing so, tipped the cauldron, the boiling
waterfall, the burning screams, all a sweet epic in her ears."

Aside by me: Another Faust is by Daniel and Dina Nayeri. It released in August 2009.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

If you're reading this on a site (other than Becky's Book Reviews or Becky's feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.

Since the initial publication of The 19th Wife last August, I have received hundreds of emails from readers eager to share with me an interesting and often poignant story about their own connection to American polygamy. Typically these stories are about Pioneer ancestors who, in the 19th century, embraced the practice of plural marriage as part of their belief. I have heard the story of the great-great-great grandmother who was a 12th wife and I have heard the story of the great-great aunt who was a 6th wife and I have heard from many, many direct descendants of Brigham Young, which is not wholly surprising given that he had 57 children. I’m always happy to receive these emails because with each story told our understanding of American polygamy grows more complex and rich.

But the most unsettling emails, and the ones I both dread and appreciate the most, are those from people who know about polygamy today. While writing The 19th Wife I spoke with a number of people who told me about their experiences as either a plural wife or as a child of a polygamous household. (It’s worth pointing out that not a single man with plural wives was willing to speak to me.) Their stories inform the contemporary portion of the novel, Jordan’s story. It is from these generous people that I learned how a polygamous household works, how the dynamics among the sister wives play out, and how children go about their day, from rising early to get in line for breakfast to begging their fathers for a minute of affection.

But since the book has appeared, I have met via the Internet even more people from polygamous families – plural wives and children of polygamy. Their emails often begin by telling me that The 19th Wife more or less reflects their lives and the world they come from. Although this is artistically gratifying it also upsets me because there is a part of me that wishes I had gotten it all wrong and that in fact such abuse, deprivation, and degradation do not exist. Alas, fiction can be true.

About two months ago I received an email from a woman who grew up in a polygamous community similar to Mesadale, the fictional community Jordan is from in the book. She said that she had read the novel and that the world I described is an accurate depiction of the community she was born into and had lived in as plural wife until 2003. But the real reason she was writing me was more harrowing: One day her younger brother, a boy in his late teens, was found dead under mysterious circumstances. The woman felt certain that her brother had been murdered although she did not know by whom or why. Fearing for her own life, she fled, leaving behind her family and friends – everyone she knew and loved. Now, six years later she was writing me because she knew I had been back to this world and that I had some contacts within. As an apostate, she no longer had any communication with her loved ones and she was writing to me to ask if I could tell her about the people she missed and feared for. She concluded by telling me that she knew some day soon she would have to return to this world to find out the truth about her brother’s death and to seek justice.

Being a writer in 2009 means I can communicate instantly and directly with readers. I never know what will be in my inbox in the morning: a salutation from Salt Lake, a greeting from Galveston, or a cry for help from a woman who has just read about herself in my novel. Writing a book is a lonely act: for a few years I was at my desk writing The 19th Wife, alone except for my dog, Elektra, who is always at my feet. I often wondered who might read the book and how it would be perceived. With each email, I have a sense of how the book sits in someone’s lap and someone’s life. I’m grateful to everyone who has sought me out to share something of themselves with me, whether the story is sad or happy or, as often is the case, something in between.

I hope to hear from many more readers. Don’t be shy! You can reach me at www.19thwife.com

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews
If you're reading this post on another site, or another feed, the content has been stolen.

If you're reading this on a site (other than Becky's Book Reviews or Becky's feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.