Author: JLfromNH

An Excerpt from The Age Of Dionysus

As mentioned in a posting earlier this summer, I am writing a magical realism novel, The Age Of Dionysus.The first rough draft is largely complete. Now comes the part of revision, adjusting plot lines, developing (or eliminating) characters. As the first draft has gotten rather long, I have started a process of diagramming the various plot threads to ensure continuity; making sure for example that plot development C happens after A and B, not before, making sure characters don’t make an appearance after they have been bumped off, or suddenly pop out of nowhere before they have been properly introduced. Plot inconsistencies can disrupt the narrative for readers, so diagramming is really essential in keeping track of everything.

The premise in the book is that gods and other supernatural beings are real. One god in particular, Dionysus drives the plot. He is convinced that theAge Of Iron is coming to a close and a new Golden Age is about to dawn. With that in mind, He intends to put Himself in a position where He will be the top divinity. However as often happens, the best laid plans of gods and men don’t always work out as intended. The novel details the effects His actions have on people and the world at large.

Below is an excerpt from early in the book which takes place in Manhattan. The character Jillian West is a young fashion model. Charles Belliers is a talent scout for the agency employing her. Belliers is also a sexual predator, who routinely harasses the models in the agency, secure in the knowledge that he won’t get fired because of ‘people he knows’. Belliers attempts to sexually assault Jillian but she is rescued when Dionysus (posing as a mortal) unexpectedly shows up. The excerpt picks up where Dionysus and Jillian leave.

Note: The wine Charles finds is Maenad wine. In the novel, there are three levels of this wine which are all highly intoxicating as they are laced with narcotics. Level Three is the heavy duty stuff. Only highly trained Maenads are supposed to touch this stuff. If you are not an initiate and drink this…well….

Note: All characters are strictly fictional and not based on real people. In other words if you think Charles is based on you, please get psychiatric help. If you think you are Dionysus, definitely get help!

Note: Text is rated ‘R’ for nudity and potty language.

“I’ll get you a cab.” Said Dionysus as He and Jillian went back downstairs. “Do you think you’ll be all right?”

“Only if that pig doesn’t come after me. I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble but thank you! Thank you!”

“Charles will be having other problems before too long. He’s his own worst enemy in the end. But I can promise you, you won’t need to worry about him coming after you.”

“I hope you’re right. That was no idle threat he made, you know. I don’t know if I could file charges against him. It’s my word against his. I’d have to fight the whole way and even then the case would probably get dismissed.” She wiped angry tears from her face. “ Guys like him always seem to get away with stuff and nobody does anything about it.”

Now outside, Dionysus flagged down a cab, paid the driver for her, then handed a small business card to her.

“That’s my phone number. If you have any problems, and somehow I don’t think you will, just call me.”

“Thank you.” She looked hesitantly up at him. “Will I be seeing you again tomorrow?”

The smile on Dionysus’s face was glorious, washing away all the terror she had felt earlier.

“I can guarantee it.”

………………………..

Upstairs,Charles fumed as he zipped up his pants. This evening was a bust for sure. Would that bitch file charges? Sometime they did, sometime they didn’t. And how did that Greek prick get in here anyway? He was sure he had locked the door from the inside. Maybe he hadn’t fully latched it somehow. Looking at his hands he realized they were shaking not with rage but with terror. Dionysus had held him up like he was a kitten and hadn’t even broken into a sweat. How strong was that guy anyway?

More as a way to distract himself than out of a sense of tidiness, he began picking up the clothes rack. As he did so, he noticed a bottle of uncorked wine with a gleaming wine glass beside it sitting on the table where Jillian had stuck her drink. Where did that come from? He hadn’t noticed Dionysus carrying anything. Had he put it there? Charles could smell the wine tantalizing his nose. Going over, he poured half a glassful and looked at it.

The strangely alluring wine was dark garnet. He sniffed at it. It smelled like wine and yet it didn’t. Against his better judgment he took a swallow. And almost immediately regretted it. He coughed and spluttered. What the hell was this shit? He looked at the label. The lettering was in Greek and the picture on the label showed a mosaic image of a naked guy riding a lion or something. Some local artisan brew maybe? He licked his lips and after a moment took another sip.

To his amazement, the second swallow was better. It still tasted like something burped out of the Okefenokee Swamp but it really wasn’t that bad. A fine patina of sweat began forming on his skin. He drank the rest of the glass trying to analyze the flavor. He fancied himself a wine connoisseur but this tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before. After a moment, he poured a second glass all the way to the top. By the time he finished it, he had forgotten about Dionysus. The third glass made him forget about Jillian. After the fourth, he tossed the wineglass and began drinking directly from the bottle.

By the time he polished off the last drop, a blinding insight came to him. What the hell were clothes for? All this high fashion stuff was pure shit. Why was he even wasting a moment of his time with this? After chucking the empty bottle into a waste basket,he began peeling off his clothes and was amazed at how much better he felt totally naked. He should have done this a long time ago! He started walking toward the door but the floor seemed to have acquired an annoying tilt. Staggering he grabbed at a mannequin but its arm came off and he nearly fell. Righting himself he stared at the mannequin’s arm for a moment. On impulse he used it to scratch first his back then his groin. He began giggling like a village idiot. This was fun! He was going to take it home with him.

Something about the locked door bothered him but he couldn’t remember what it was. But he finally got it open and padded out into the hall. Getting off the studio carpeting and onto the linoleum in the hall chilled his feet but he made up his mind not to whine about it. Isn’t that what you got calluses for? It was probably a nice evening and his apartment in New Jersey wasn’t that far so he decided to walk home.

Nathan Jackson sat in the security office reading a girlie magazine. He had seen Dionysus and Jillian leave on the security cameras. The sight made him sigh. There he goes again, this time with a hot redhead. All the girls were buzzing about this guy and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Some people had all the luck, he thought with gloomy envy, this Greek guy was a major chick magnet and he couldn’t even get the waitress at the restaurant to look twice at him. He buried his face deeper into the magazine. Two of the security cameras were out again, he’d have to do something about that. Engrossed in the centerfold he failed to notice the functional camera showing the talent agent strolling down the stairs. But the security office door was open so Nathan spotted Charles’ s naked ass out of the corner of his eye just as Belliers exited the building.

“Shit!” swore Nathan tossing down the magazine and sprinting out the door after him.

“Sir! Sir!” He caught up with Belliers starting to make a right turn. Charles had a mannequin’s arm propped on his shoulder. “It’s kind of chilly out here. Don’t you think you better put a coat on?”

“What the hell for?” Belliers glared at him affronted. The wine fumes he exhaled made Nathan’s eyes water. “It’s a nice night. I’m walking home.”

The temperature read 55 degrees Fahrenheit the last time Nathan looked at the thermometer. This guy was definitely not feeling anything. The weird thing was, he seemed to be sweating a lot.

“I really think you should put something on, sir.” He took hold of Belliers’ arm, trying to steer him back into the building. “You left your coat in the cloak room. At least put that on.” There was a glazed mad look in Belliers’ eyes that reminded Nathan of a YouTube video he had seen showing a rabid raccoon.

Belliers ignored him. Instead he began staring in fascination at the marquee canopy shielding the entrance. He shook off Nathan’s hand.

“Hey! Look at the fucking trampoline!” He screeched like a kid. Before Nathan could stop him, he tossed the mannequin’s arm into Nathan’s face and began clambering up the side of the building, grasping the concrete facade indentations with his fingers and toes like a squirrel. Throwing aside the arm, Nathan lunged at him but although Belliers was in his fifties and overweight, he was shockingly nimble, evading the security guard’s attempts to grab his ankles.

It was at this critical juncture that the squad car containing Officers Joseph Burrows and Jacob Armstrong came cruising by. It was rookie Jacob’s first evening on the job. His field training officer Joseph had driven him around showing him the basics. They ticketed a few speeders but otherwise it had been quiet so Joseph spent most of the time telling Jacob his personal war stories. It was nearing the end of their shift.

“I think tomorrow I’ll let you do the driving. Do you have any questions?”

“Um, yeah.” Said Jacob looking out the car window at the fashion agency they were driving by. “Why is that naked guy climbing up the building?”

“Aw shit.” groaned Joseph. “Ok, here’s where it gets interesting.” He pulled the squad car over to the curb. “Make sure your gun is tucked out of sight. He’s probably drunk or high. The last thing we want is for him to get hold of a gun, especially if he’s combative.”

“Right.” After putting in a call to the dispatcher, they exited the car and approached cautiously. By now Charles was balanced precariously on the edge of the door canopy gauging how far to jump. The guy trying to coax him down was building security. He noted Joseph and Jacob nearing with obvious relief.

“He’s blotto and I can’t get him to come down. I’m calling 911, if that’s ok.”

“Fine.” said Officer Joseph, not taking his eyes off the nude guy who looked like he was getting ready to jump onto the canopy. “Hey, friend, you may not want to do that. I don’t think it’ll hold you.”

Belliers was in too exalted a state to pay any attention to the annoying people shouting at him from the sidewalk. The canopy seemed to ripple an invitation to jump on it. With a joyous shriek he launched himself and landed spreadeagled on the canvas. While it didn’t rip, it abruptly folded around him and the entire canopy frame collapsed. The two officers used the opportunity to jump on him and hold him down.

It turned out to be more difficult than they thought. Belliers fought like a demon to extricate himself from the canopy, swearing a blue streak the whole time. Jacob and Joseph tried to use the canvas to hold the drunken man in place but Charles had little trouble ripping through the material. With regret, Joseph pulled out his taser and tried subduing him. Belliers jerked a little from the zaps but otherwise seemed unaffected. He didn’t even grunt but his flailing grew wilder.

By now two foot patrol cops had shown up and added their muscle to the struggle. The security guard joined in. Jacob’s jaw took a painful clip from the drunk’s fist. There were five guys holding onto him but Belliers still kept trying to get up. The wine fumes added a rank smell to the air but the rookie began suspecting the subject was intoxicated on more than just booze. The swearing was giving way to an incoherent babbling that sounded like the glossolalia Jacob used to hear as a kid at the evangelical meetings his parents attended.

“Shit! Watch it!” yelled one of the cops. “He’s pissing a bucket!”

A stream of urine soared into the air, spraying back and forth like a lawn sprinkler as Belliers continued struggling.

The ambulance finally pulled up. Fortunately whatever alcoholic dynamo was powering Charles began winding down and they were able to finally load him onto the stretcher where the EMT’s firmly strapped him in place. As the ambulance drove off, Jacob and Joseph looked mournfully down at their urine soaked uniforms.

“He hosed us pretty good, didn’t he?” Said Jacob.

“That he did, little buddy.” replied Joseph shaking his head. “Good thing our shift is just about over.”

“I wish ours was.” said one of the street cops. Their uniforms were wet as well.

On the way back to headquarters, they had to lower the windows to air out as much of the remarkably pungent urine smell as they could.

“Well, that was interesting.” remarked Jacob laconically putting on some nitrile gloves they had in the car.

“That it was.” Replied Joseph, who then laughed. “Never a dull moment in the Big Apple, kid! Never a dull moment.”

Mosaic of god Dionysus

The Heroes

When writing, the portrayal of various characters can be a challenge. Whether they are villainous or heroic, you want them to be three dimensional. Even the best plot in the world can fall flat if the characters are insipid and two-dimensional. Heroes and villains must have believable motivations and personalities which clearly distinguish them from each other. I have found the hero or heroes of the stories to be the most problematic.

Superheroes are popular these days. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Iron Man, the Avengers, Ant-Man, et al populate the movie screens these days and before that comic books. The appeal of these characters is not hard to understand. They’re easy to write, for one thing. Armed with either super powers or fantastic inventions, they do battle with evil and ensure justice is done.

Superman lifting a car

Comic book superheroes are a product of modern society but they’re really nothing new. Larger than life heroes have been a fixture in many cultures for thousands of years. Like present day superheroes, they were either gifted with extraordinary powers or armed with magic weapons.

Heracles (or Hercules as the Romans called him) was an early version of Superman. A son of Zeus sired with a mortal woman, he was gifted with enormous strength and fought with many monsters, defeating them all. So popular was this figure, he crops up in other cultures such as the hero Samson of Israel. In fact both of these characters may be based on the much older figure of Gilgamesh, ruler of Uruk, said to be of mixed divine and mortal ancestry (much as Heracles was).

Gilgamesh King of Uruk

Ancient heroes often battled monsters threatening humanity, or obtained some boon such as fire and an important food crop such as wheat or maize. Sometimes they would manifest as twin heroes such as Castor and Pollux, one mortal, the other semi-divine. Navajo stories speak of Slayer of Monsters and his twin Born for Water, who destroyed monsters who were depopulating the earth. The theme of twin heroes crops up even today in the original Star Wars trilogy, where it is revealed that Luke and Leia are actually twins.

Not all ancient heroes had super powers. Some, like the modern-day Batman, were simply gifted individuals with special weapons; King Arthur with the mystical sword Excalibur, the cap of invisibility given to Perseus when he went to kill Medusa, the staff of Moses used to swallow up the magic staffs of the Egyptian priests and part the Red Sea.

Parting of the Red Sea

Some heroes lived entirely by their wits. Odysseus, during the years he spent trying to return home after the Trojan war, relied on trickery to overwhelm the Cyclops attempting to devour him and his crew, and had his men block their ears with wax to keep them from hearing the alluring songs of the Sirens.

Odysseus and the Sirens

One thing many of these heroes have in common is their fallibility. Very few if any of them had it easy. Gilgamesh fell into a deep depression after the death of his friend Enkidu. Fearful of death himself, he went in search of the secret of eternal life only to have it slip through his fingers. Heracles was subject to occasional fits of madness actually killing some of his own children during one episode, while Odysseus’s arrogance often got him into as much trouble as it got him out. King Arthur sowed the seeds of his own destruction when he inadvertently begot Mordred on his own half sister, Morgan-le-fay. Perseus accidentally killed his own grandfather when throwing a discus at some funeral games.

It’s important to keep the above in mind when writing fictional heroes. Modern-day hero making writers sometimes forget to give their characters feet of clay, instead making them flawless, invincible and beloved by anyone who meets them. There is a term for these types of characters; a Mary Sue. Mary Sues tend to be female but can be male as well. Male and female Mary Sues are interpreted as a sign of amateurish writing although if you’ve watched recent movies and tv series, you’ve probably seen more than your share of Mary Sues. Of course ancient composers of legends and myths created their own share of Mary Sue types.

The temptation to make your hero so perfect they can triumph against anything is a strong one. But the heroes we remember best are the ones less than perfect, whose struggles against their own flaws mirror our own. So make your heroes bad tempered, overweight because they like sweets too much, awkward, depressed, traumatized, whatever it takes to make them live and breathe on the pages you write.

Greek Play Masks

Scenes of October

The month is winding down in a whirl of autumn leaves and chilly breezes hinting that winter is not far off.

Gold and red autumn leaves over house


Foliage was especially bright this year thanks to regular rainfall after the semi-dry conditions of the past few years. The only drawback to it all is having to rake the leaves up afterwards. Some people toss their leaves after bagging them up as if it was all some sort of rubbish. But doing that robs the soil of critical nutrients which would have been recycled and reused by the trees if left to break down naturally. My method of disposal involves my composter. Once that is full, there is a chicken wire leaf bin. Since that is mostly full anyway, that fills up rapidly and the remainder I dump in the small patch of woods in back of the house.

As all this starts to break down, fungi of all sorts get to work. If it wasn’t for these hidden allies, leaves, and deadwood would remain on the surface of the ground, their nutrients inaccessible, the material becoming a potential fire hazard. So a near invisible clean up crew of earthworms, millipedes, mites, insect larvae and other micro-critters start chowing down on all this material.

As they chew up, digest and process the leaves, an enormous tribe of fungi begin the next step of reducing it even further. The vast majority of fungal forms live unnoticed in the soil under our feet sending microscopic filaments through all the leaf waste. But every so often they send up a fruiting body called a mushroom or toadstool. These can come in all forms and sizes from mini-mushrooms,

Tiny mushroom next to lettuce leaf.

to dinner-plate sized.

mushroom wide as open hand.

By the time they are done, the result is fragrant humus, ready for the next generation of plants.

By the end of October, wildflowers have largely gone by with the occasional exception of a late blooming dandelion or tardy fall wild aster. At this time of year, it is the seed heads of these flowers which are the main feature. They are often food for migrating birds and small rodents such as chipmunks, voles and mice. The seed heads themselves can often be as striking as the flowers. The picture below is of a patch of goldenrod gone to seed. The seedheads look more like flowers than the flowers do!

goldenrod seed heads

Last but not least it wouldn’t be October without that classic fixture of every end-of-month decoration.

pile of pumpkins

Happy Halloween everyone!

Trickster – the oldest of them all

Images of Coyote the trickster in his animal form
Trickster Coyote

In last month’s posting, I mentioned Coyote and Spider (also called Anansi) who are two trickster characters. For those who aren’t familiar with the concept of the trickster, he (very rarely she) is an ageless being who, depending on the story being told, is clever, sly or clumsy and dim-witted. He’s always breaking social rules, violating the laws of physics, pulling practical jokes and cheerfully ripping off stuff. He also performs acts which are beneficial such as stealing fire and giving it to humans, showing them how to plant crops, even how to have sex!

This curious immortal who can take the form either of a human or animal, can be found throughout the world under various incarnations. In North America he is seen as Coyote, Rabbit or Raven. In West Africa, he is Anansi, the spider. Norse mythology had Loki as the trickster. Pacific Ocean cultures had the divine being Maui as the trickster and native Australians had a character Bamapana notorious for his bad language, crude jokes and general upsetting of the cultural applecart.

That such a being can be found in traditional cultures all over the world suggests he arose very early in human history. The human global diaspora dates back many tens of thousands of years, with native americans coming in waves, probably as early as 30,000 years ago. Native Australians arrived on the island continent 50,000 years ago.

So the trickster certainly dates back before then, perhaps as much as 100,000 years ago or more. When did our ancestors start telling stories? Probably when they started talking and preserving oral traditions as a way to survive. Part of this oral tradition involved social rules, where to find food, how to get along with neighbors both human and non-human. Relations with the spiritual Otherworld no doubt arose at the same time. And whenever you have rules, there is inevitably a rule-breaker. If there’s a rule, Trickster is sure to break it.

Tricksters are not noted for their physical strength. No Heracles or Atlas here. Instead they rely on their wits, scheming and tricking people to get what they want, whether it’s food, money, sex, what have you. They’re chronic shapeshifters, constantly altering their forms and occasionally even their genders! His antics range from bumbling (think Wile Coyote) to outright malicious (think Loki). Reading over many of the myths about Trickster, he come across much like an amoral sociopath. Yet at the same time he makes it a point to right certain imbalances. The most common form this takes is the theft of fire. Usually fire is being hoarded by certain divinities who refuse to share this gift. So the trickster devises a scheme to get fire away from its owners and into the hands of humans.

Campfire - which Trickster stole for us

Some stories have Trickster having a hand in creating the world. His reasons for this? Well, it’s not for the joy of creation or vaunting himself as a creator to be worshiped. It’s for the very practical reason of giving people a place to sit. It’s the same with fire theft. The goal isn’t to perform a noble deed but just to get light in a place of darkness, for warmth and to cook food (Trickster’s always hungry).

Even the chronic rule breaking serves a purpose. Trickster loves to turn things upside down and inside out if possible. The effect of this is to break people out of rigid patterns so new patterns can be developed. He mirrors the forces of nature which can do the same thing; volcanoes spewing out molten lava and hot ash which breaks down becoming fertile soil, hurricanes which redistribute moisture and heat, forest fires which burn out old dead vegetation and create ashes which nourish new plants and lightning bolts which contribute to the nitrogen cycle so critical for growth. Destructive? Yes! Creative? Also yes!

The trickster has lost none of his allure in the 21st century. A popular character in the current Marvel Comic movies is Loki, the mischievous, malicious yet charming troublemaker who plagues the heroic Thor. Another is the cartoon character Bugs Bunny always getting the upper hand on his foes and having fun doing it. Wile E Coyote is often mentioned as a trickster character but I’m more inclined to think it’s really the Road Runner who consistently outsmarts his pursuer and pulls off more than a few tricks of his own. I can’t imagine their appeal ever fading. All these tricksters embody the chaotic side of life, ever changing, sometimes destructive but definitely never boring.

Bugs Bunny - a modern day trickster
A modern day trickster

Giants and their brethren

This summer I have been working on the first draft of a magical realism novel tentatively named The Age Of Dionysus. Right now I am trying to develop various characters, both human and divine. The divinities (one of which of course is Dionysus) populate the novel though I am trying to keep Their numbers in check as I don’t want this to become a literary Cecil B Demille epic with a celestial cast of thousands.

One way to avoid divine overpopulation was to float the idea that many of the divinities have ‘transcended’ to a different plane of existence, perished when They lost their worshipers or simply dwindled into insignificance which is why we no longer see or worship Them.

A few of the more familiar divinities still linger; Odin, Athena, Pele along with a few less well known figures such as Mannanan Mac Lir and Sethlans, an Etruscan precursor to Vulcan/Hephaestus. The notorious Trickster Coyote makes a brief appearance and I may bring in His ‘cousin’ Anansi, though I am not likely to do too much with Him as Neil Gaiman has already published a novel about Him.

One divinity I briefly show is a water divinity called Takannaaluk, probably better know as Sedna. She is known by a variety of different names among the Inuit and many origin stories involving Her falling into the sea, sometimes thought of as the Underworld, losing Her fingers either by having them chopped or frozen off. One version of the story describes her as being a giant, so hungry all the time that She attempts to eat her own parents. Takannaaluk’s severed fingers become the sea creatures native to the Arctic Sea and since they were once part of Her, She has the power to control them. Inuit had to follow strict hunting rules laid down by Her if they wished success in catching anything.

I put my own spin on Her while hopefully staying true to the legend. Here are two characters in my story having a brief conversation regarding Her:

Coyote: Is it true She threatened to eat you?

Mannanan Mac Lir: She did hint I was a tasty looking morsel. She’s like the other giants; the Jotnar, Gigantes, Nephelim – all with vast appetites and all very old. She remembers how it was before humans. If She thinks Dionysus will bring any of that back with His new Golden Age, then yes, she’s going to help Him no matter what I tell Her.

While researching Sedna and other mythic beings, the topic of giants caught my interest. Legends of giants are world-wide. They are generally described as being somewhat human in appearance, although they can have extra heads, long hair on their bodies, a single eye (as in the case of the cyclops) or snaky legs (occasionally in Greek legends). Their most obvious characteristic is their enormous size as well as their great hunger.

Their stories probably arise out of dim memories of childhood when everybody towered over you and was significantly stronger. Also the environment, with its powerful storms, volcanic explosions and earthquakes, must have made early humans feel very small indeed compared with what they saw as vastly powerful beings.

The Jotnar (singular, Jotunn) were primal beings from Norse mythology. While they might be described as not much bigger than their rivals, the Aesir, they could often be gigantic in proportion. One adventure has Thor and some companions take shelter during the night in what they perceive as a large building, only to discover it is in reality one of the gloves of Utgard-Loki.

The Gigantes, from Greek mythology, are children of Gaia and Uranus along with other giant-like beings such as an early version of the Cyclops, and the Hundred-handers. Like the Jotnar they could be fairly normal in proportion or very large. They were often portrayed with snake-like legs.

The Nephelim were very similar though by the time the Old Testament stories were finally written down, they had been redacted enough to remove any mention of them being children of a divinity such as Gaia. Instead they seem to be more a race of large humans, though some Jewish writings refer to them as fallen angels. For the purposes of my novel, I’ve gone back to the likely older meaning of them as giants.

Sadly tales of giants have faded from more recent folklore. The figure of Paul Bunyan is about the only recent giant to emerge out of folk tales told at lumber camps and he is more a creation of popular culture rather than mythology. Perhaps in the future, after our civilization has passed, people will look at the ruins left behind and compose new stories about the fabled giants who built them.

In my novel, I picture the races of giants (Jotnar, Gigantes et al) as ancient divine beings who predate humanity and are older than more recent gods such as Athena or Odin. They are largely indifferent to humans, though Takannaaluk resents the environmental destruction done by people and is hostile to their spread. Her domain is confined to the Arctic Sea, so Her ability to oppose what humans are doing is limited. Hence Her threat to eat Mannanan, who is sympathetic to them.

Since my novel is still in the first draft stage, there are likely to be minor changes as I develop the plot but Takannaaluk and Her kind are keepers. Stay tuned.

Old Man of the Mountain face on Cannon Mountain
Giants in the mountains