Photo of the Year, 2022

The Photo of 2022 shows that most beautiful sight for any author: one's book in a bookstore. 

Specifically, in December of this year, I saw (and snapped a photo) of the Spanish version of my dear short story collection, Our Lady's Troubadour, for sale in the local section, clearly visible from the street, at Mil Hojas Bookstore, Zamora, Spain. 

Massive changes in the book industry in the last twenty years have made it frustrating and inconvenient for most authors to see this sight as e-commerce and ebooks overwhelm the printed word. I grew up before the internet (gasp!), and seeing one's book in the store always seemed a glamourous, giant step to authorial stardom. 

That kind of deep-seated impression doesn't fade easily, so when I saw my book in my local bookstore, I felt in my blood and bones that this was a beautiful sign of success. 

Due to my excitement in sharing this photo with everyone I knew, at least this copy sold. I know because the reader brought it to me to sign, telling me he'd already read it in ebook and was now making a gift of it to his son-in-law. What a tremendously flattering situation for my beloved book! 

He went on to say that he couldn't get over how someone not from Spain could think of these things and write them so authentically. Again, so flattering I almost didn't know what to say. 

But of course, he'd made a tiny mistake. Everyone at this blog knows my soul is Spanish, right? 

This photo, objectively nothing special in itself, has also been chosen as 2022's Photo of the Year because it was taken in 2022 and showcases just one of my publications from 2021. 

It can't showcase something from 2022 because no such writing exists. 

I've spent all of 2022 working very hard for income to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. I've written two short stories (at the most) that have not been published. Comparison is odious in general, but at the end off 2022, it's hard not to feel like it's come up short. 

So, with this photo as inspiration, I'm looking at 2023 head-on to be my best writing year yet. Here's to attaining and surpassing realistic and idealistic goals! 

Happy New Year, everybody! 

The Exhibits I Waited 800 Years to See

Me and the most important men of letters of Spain

I wrote Our Lady's Troubadour for Alfonso X's 800th birthday. I was largely under the impression that most celebrations had been canceled or curtailed by the pandemic. But, wonder of wonders, the two most appropriate institutions in Spain recently had exhibits in honor of this grand anniversary. 

The exhibits were appropriate because Alfonso was the Learned King, and the exhibits were of his books: the books he had his scholars research, write, lay out, and decorate in his court, and which he would've inspected to make sure they were to his standard and then left for future generations in his testament. Those books. 

The places housing the exhibits were appropriate because they're the two most important libraries in Spain. Even the humblest of libraries is a temple of learning. These buildings, with their grandeur and special designs for preserving and honoring books, are cathedrals of learning. 

My new knight in shining armor and I have been crazy busy, but when I saw that these once-in-a-millennium exhibits were about to end, we made a special trip, right around Valentine's Day. Books = Love. 

First, "The Books of the Wise King" at the National Library of Spain in Madrid. 

That illuminated A... I would wear a shirt with that on it! 

The mask keeps the drool from hitting the glass cases. 😉 Yours truly with the To codex of the Cantigas de Santa Maria. 

Just flipping out with a display of the E codex Cantigas presentation miniature. I'm practically in Alfonso's colorful court! 

What we all came for right up front: the To codex of the Cantigas de Santa Maria, produced at the court of Alfonso X and personally approved by the king. With about 100 cantigas, it's considered to be the first part of a project that just kept growing. 

I can't emphasize enough that these books are deluxe and that it's a miracle we can decipher the musical notation today and enjoy these beautiful songs. The manuscript is open to Cantiga 37, a miracle about a man whose foot hurt so much he cut it off. The foot was replaced when he asked St. Mary for help.

The greatest law treatise of Alfonso's court, the Siete Partidas, this time in a copy for Queen Isabel I. I studied this and other law treatises for my doctoral dissertation. The confidence and clarity with which these scholars wrote in a language that had only been written down officially for about fifty years is stunning. 

The other great law treatise, the Especulo, predecessor of the Siete Partidas, in a copy from the fourteenth century, which is the only medieval copy the National Library has.

A beautiful codex of the Fuero Real, a royally sanctioned municipal law code. This one was granted to Valladolid in 1255, just three years into Alfonso's reign. 

Display of the presentation miniatures of a codex of the first Partida that is held in the British Library. I'd only ever seen black-and-white reproductions before. Unlike traditional medieval European presentation miniatures, instead of a scribe presenting a completed book to the person who asked for it to be copied (usually a king), here King Alfonso dictates the contents of the book and looks overhead at the book's inspiration and eventual recipient: God. 

Display of the presentation miniature from a History of Spain codex from about 1280. The king tells his historians what to write and points to his heir, Sancho, who will become Sancho IV. 

The General History was meant to be a history of the world from ancient times to the thirteenth century (their present day), but only made it to the first century AD before Alfonso's death cut the project short. This massive codex is from the royal scriptorium, about 1270, and is only the first part.

A closeup of the beautifully legible text (you can't become learned if you can't read the texts) about the lineages of Jacob, General History.

Display of the beautiful colophon of the Book of the Canons, an astronomy treatise. The red and blue part reads, "Here ends the book of the canons the most noble King Don Alfonso ordered to be written. May God grant him life and good health for a long time."

The Book of the Crosses, an astrology treatise from 1259, signed by its translators, Yehuda ben Mose ha-Kohen and Juan de Aspa.

The Complete Book on Scrutiny of the Stars, about 1254.

The Tablas Alfonsies were astronomical measurements taken at Toledo for Alfonso X between 1263 and 1274, and were used by scholars all over the known world for hundreds of years thereafter. This manuscript is from Paris, about 1320.

A History of Spain from the beginning of the fourteenth century (after Alfonso's death).

Finally, a feminine touch: Queen Isabel II, who helped found the National Library. 

Out front, twentieth-century statues of the greats of Spanish literature. Here, Vives (father of psychology) and Nebrija (who wrote the first Spanish dictionary, 1492). 

Lope de Vega and Miguel de Cervantes, who I suppose don't need further introduction. 

Isidore of Seville, a Visigoth (c. 560 - 636) who takes pride of place here because he wrote Latin Etymologies that have been an important reference ever since.

And the star of all learning, Alfonso X, el Sabio. 

This statue exercises a particular attraction on this book nerd. In his hand, he holds a sheet from the Siete Partidas. It was probably hard to decide which branch of learning to represent with this medieval  Renaissance man. 

Mario and I walked back to where we'd parked through most of monumental Madrid. It's such a wonderful place to visit! Here I am with another statue of Cervantes across from the congress building. 

The very next morning, we headed to El Escorial in the mountains around Madrid for "Codices of the Wise King."

The monastery of El Escorial was built for Felipe II according to Neo-Classical architectural principles of reason, proportion, and balance. It has the most important manuscript library in Spain. 

I liked that my mask had the same image on it! 

This exhibit was, if possible, even more mind-blowing because all the manuscripts were from the court of Alfonso X, books the king himself would have touched and marveled at (or possibly pointed out the flaws in), including the E and T codices of the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which obviously I have some affection for. 

In the beautiful library, a veritable temple of learning. Absolutely electrifying! But at the library of El Escorial, they never allow photos. So you'll have to take my word for it. 

This was as close as I got before they started yelling not to take photos. I really think it should be apparent that I am not there to harm the books in any way, shape, or form. 

I'd like to note that the ceiling of the library is painted with symbols of all the branches of learning. Alfonso X appears in the section for astronomy, with a tablet and an astrolabe. 

Mario and I spent a good hour and half poring over the exhibit of nine manuscripts, so we got our money's worth. 

The gift shop had many beautiful items with cantigas and Book of Chess designs on them, and of course I nabbed a few. 

Back in the car, we decided on a strategy for lunch, and suddenly the whole couple of days came crashing down, and I sobbed with the emotion. Yes, it meant that much to me to see these books in person. With someone who encouraged my passion, no less. 

I don't always weep with gratitude, but this occasion certainly merited it. 
 

2021, An Alfonsine Year in Review

 2021. At least it wasn't 2020, amirite? 

I'm going to focus on positives in this post, as I do in real life. It's the best way forward, as I understand it. 

In 2021, I found a couple of ongoing freelance editing jobs I'm satisfied with. I hope to continue for the foreseeable future with these companies, though freelancing is nothing if not unpredictable. 

I published a work very particular and special to me, The Atwells Avenue Anomaly. If you're bored with predictable love stories or science fantasy, take a look at this deeply felt tale of the pursuit of happiness! I published only after collaborating with the ultra-talented Shirley MacKenzie, who prepared four unique illustrations. These appear in full color in both ebook and paperback. 

I was thrilled to welcome two Portuguese editions of my work into the world: Casa na Árvore and Mundos Imprevisíveis.

Although those two events would be plenty for a normal year, for more than two decades, I've been waiting for 2021 to have a big blowout in honor of Alfonso X, el Sabio's, 800th birthday. 

And so, I visited his favorite city, Sevilla, to see a play that integrated cantigas to tell the story of the last years of Alfonso X's life. It was thrilling to see the historical people I'm usually thinking about at any given moment embodied in living, breathing actors, and to hear the cantigas played with so much care and conviction. 

I published a beautifully designed book with Encircle Publications that I've had in mind for more than two decades: Our Lady's Troubadour, ten miraculously positive stories based on some of the Cantigas de Santa Maria. This has been my main tribute to the 800th birthday. It's the result of double the blood, sweat, and tears, because it came out on the same day in Spanish, the language Alfonso X worked so hard to establish as worthy of writing. 

Once I got going on the stories, I couldn't resist writing an eleventh one. This one came out much longer because it's the "Byzantine novel" I've always anted to write. It tells the twisty-turny story of Beatriz, Empress of Rome, how for reasons beyond her control, she loses everything, and how she comes back from certain death to triumph because of her resilience and faith. Empress of Misfortune is available separately in digital formats, and I hope to have a paperback edition available in 2022. 

I had a fun and fruitful interview with Dr. Debra J. H. Bolton of Kansas State University about the importance of Alfonso's legacy and the wonders of the Cantigas de Santa Maria. A transcript of the radio show is available here, and the full interview audio will become available very soon. 

I also had a dream come true when I seized the opportunity to spend Alfonso X's 800th birthday, November 23, 2021, in Ciudad Real, where Eduardo Paniagua gave a concert with some members of Música Antigua, effectively bridging eight centuries so that the audience could feel what it was like to hear cantigas in the court of Alfonso X. 

Signing (sold out!) books in Zamora

Because Our Lady's Troubadour came out in Spanish, I was able to live out the dream of doing a book launch in Spain. The first event was in my home town of Zamora. It was an unbelievable, unique evening during which I got to see one of my aims for the book--for more people to hear about Alfonso X's wonderful works--come true right before my eyes. The musicians and I practiced for months beforehand, and the people of Zamora were incredibly welcoming of me and my little book! 

It wasn't captured on video, but when I came out in my thirteenth-century costume that looked like I'd stepped right out of an Alfonsine manuscript painting, the audience was delighted and seemed unable to stop applauding. It created a wonderful sense of anticipation, and I think the evening delivered on that promise. The bookstore had never seen such a crowd and we didn't have enough copies of the book to meet the demand! 

A week later, I did a completely different presentation in Burgos. I got to see my friend, Daniel, whom you know from this blog, after a year and a half. I have strong writerly ties to Burgos through Seven Noble Knights, and honestly, Burgos boasts more connections with Alfonso X than Zamora. After doing an interview at the local radio station, the host took me to place I hadn't seen before: the ruins of a monastery where it's said Alfonso's traitor brother Simon was buried. The stereotype of the cold Burgosian was further given the lie at the presentation. There weren't nearly as many people as in Zamora, but those who were there treated me like the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I'm more than satisfied. 

In spite of how well they went, I lost money at these two events due to shipping costs and the requirements of the Spanish government for me to sell physical books legally. All for Alfonso! 

An awkward selfie with an early printed version of the Siete Partidas,
which I studied extensively for Law and Order in Medieval Spain,
right there in Salamanca. Full circle. 

A last activity I was able to do in honor of 800 years of Alfonso X was to visit my old haunt, the University of Salamanca, to see a temporary exhibit of historical manuscripts. The trajectory illustrated the influences on Alfonsine historiography, actual Alfonsine manuscripts such as the Fuero Real and the Estoria de Espanna, and works about him by later generations as well as work directly influenced by the Alfonsine history workshop. 

A thirteenth/fourteenth-century manuscript of the Fuero Real

Fifteenth-century manuscript of Estoria de Espanna, part IV

Detail from fourteenth-century
Chronicle of the Kings of Aragon and Counts of Barcelona

Chronicle of Spain by Diego de Valera, printed 1517,
with a note from a reader showing passionate interest in Alfonso X 

One regret is that I haven't yet been able to get the Spanish translation of Law and Order in Medieval Spain out into the world before the end of 2021. It will come out sometime in 2022. Unlike King Alfonso, I do not have a team of translators, writers, and publishers working on my projects. 

But, especially considering that the world was in the second year of a global pandemic and the healthcare, supply, and budget interruptions that accompanied it, 2021 has been replete with celebrations of different kinds, reflecting the wide variety of knowledge in Alfonso X's legacy. 

It's 800 years later, and humanity is still dealing with issues of cross-cultural communication and acting without thinking. It's important to highlight Alfonso's ideals of accepting the contributions of all cultures and confronting challenges with considered wisdom and knowledge. If one additional person has been inspired to open their mind, I consider the main mission accomplished. 

Happy new year! 

How I Celebrated Alfonso X's 800th Birthday

Showing the king my birthday present for him 
All photos in this post 2021 Jessica Knauss 

I've been looking forward to Alfonso X's 800th birthday on November 23, 2021, for a very long time: since before I moved to Spain, before so many things, before I went to study cantigas in England (of all places). 

I was hoping to participate in lots of events for this grand occasion now that I live in Spain and could easily go to any one of Alfonso's favorite cities. Then the pandemic happened. I'd had Our Lady's Troubadour in the works for while, and thought since I can write a book under practically any circumstances, that it would be an apt tribute. 

And so Our Lady's Troubadour came into being, with a lot of help from friends and Encircle Publications. But meanwhile, the conditions of the pandemic relaxed, and some conferences and theatrical experiences celebrating the 800 years started to take place. Mostly, I heard about them and sighed wistfully because travel is still difficult or because I heard about them too late to do anything. 

Jesús Lozano plays Alfonso X in Alfonso X: La última cantiga, Sevilla, August 2021 

I was able to go to Sevilla for my own birthday and see the play La última cantiga, twice. It tells the story of the last years of Alfonso's reign and life and is punctuated by cantigas played by Cantica and Emilio Villalba (wonderful artists!). I know the history well, and to see it played out before my eyes was truly thrilling. Too few have been the times I've been to an event with cantigas played live. This is how they were meant to be enjoyed, in all their foot-tapping glory! 

But that was my birthday. Was I going to spend Alfonso's great anniversary stuck at home among piles of my own books? 

I didn't have to! I found out about Eduardo Paniagua doing a limited tour with the basic members of Música Antigua, ostensibly to promote their latest discs, about a month before the anniversary. With his group, Eduardo Paniagua has been recording all the Cantigas de Santa Maria, every last one of 427. They've been at it for about thirty years, and have some 380 done. The goal is on the horizon... 

The closest thing you can get to the instruments of Alfonso's court. 

The group uses instruments created from medieval miniatures and sculptures and a variety of voices and techniques. The approach they take, recording the entire text of each cantiga and developing the story with dialogue and interplay, has influenced my literary interpretation of the texts more than any single cantigas critic. Singing along with the recordings has helped me enter into the medieval mindset to write the stories in Our Lady's Troubadour, and given me a burning desire to perform cantigas in public (which I will do on December 10 if the worsening COVID figures don't stop me!). 

The city crest of Ciudad Real appears to feature Alfonso X! 

I've been listening to Música Antigua's work since 1998. So when I found out that they were going to do a concert on November 23, the exact birthday, in Ciudad Real, which Alfonso founded (and where I'd meant to go and see a Manolo García concert in 2008, but that's another story), I leapt at the opportunity! 

Ciudad Real isn't close to where I live. I reserved the Hotel Alfonso X, because how can you not, and tried to find out how to guarantee a seat when it was going to be first come, first served. I wrote to the cultural ministry, and at great personal cost, called, but never got to speak with the organizers. I had to just go and trust. 

Another element of this story is that I have a shiny new boyfriend (shiny as in "knight in shining armor"), whom you will probably hear more about. His name is Mario, and when he suddenly got the opportunity, he offered to go to Ciudad Real with me, doing the driving. We had a delightful road trip to Don Quijote country through snow and sunshine. It was sleeting when we go to the town of Milagros in the mountains north of Madrid, and Mario took this photo showing a book of miracles in a town called Miracles so I could hold the umbrella and keep the book from getting wet. What a great guy! 

We toured Ciudad Real. It has a strong current of Don Quijote going on, less so of Alfonso X. The mural in the above photo was done last week, just in time for the 800th birthday. But I couldn't be stopped. We saw the mural, a couple of statues, and a fountain, and it was enough to keep me happy. I was coming full circle, finally seeing a concert in Ciudad Real--not Manolo, but Alfonso, and I was comparably excited. 

The old casino building 

In the morning, we headed to the concert venue, which is the headquarters of the cultural ministry in the old casino building. We wanted to see if they would guarantee us seats because we had come so far and, after all, I'd just published a book for Alfonso X. We met with the organizers, and my social ineptitude took over. I let Mario do the talking, but when he couldn't make a very strong case for us based on how far we'd traveled, he started explaining that I'm an Alfonso X expert. I took up the challenge finally when he said, "But she can explain it better than I." 

I shakily removed Trovador de Santa Maria from the bag we'd been carrying around to protect it from the rain and explained that it had ten stories based on the plots of Cantigas de Santa Maria, and that I thought the City of Ciudad Real should have a copy. Everyone's demeanor changed. They said to come back when they opened the doors, and they would make sure we got in. (They didn't seem to feel the urgency I did about the limited number of seats.) 

Santiago, the oldest church in Ciudad Real,
might've seen Alfonso X cross its threshold. 

That done, we had a busy morning sightseeing, and all the while my mind was roiling with how the concert was going to go coupled with the excitement of hearing Cantigas live by the best musicians. 

In the afternoon, I read the introduction of Trovador de Santa Maria to Mario, both to share with him the importance of this occasion and to get used to speaking about these things I so love. He suggested we go to the Plaza Mayor and read the introduction out loud at the fountain with Alfonso X's statue so he could hear his present. I wept copiously at the suggestion, thinking about all the years I've studied Alfonso X and how I wish I could know whether he likes my gift to him. 

Front row, baby! 

We showed up at the casino early in our enthusiasm, and were told to come back later, not to worry, even if there were no seats available, they'd make room. Even with that hint, I still didn't imagine what ended up happening: we were personally escorted to the section labeled "protocol" in the front row! We were joined by members of the press and the organizers. 

Oh, the anticipation! The instruments were laid out as in the photo near the top of this post, and the air seemed to spark as, indeed, every last seat filled in behind us. 

And then, Wafir Sheik, Luis Antonio Muñoz, Eduardo Paniagua, and Jaime Muñoz walked out and took their seats to play instrumental versions of Cantigas 388 (295) and 1. The sound, without amplifiers of any kind, was as perfect as on the discs, but so much more alive. It was like lifting a veil and opening a passageway to a thirteenth century full of richness and beauty. 

I knew most of the cantigas in the concert well. They're like old friends, and I couldn't help tapping my feet and mouthing the words as I stared unabashedly at the wonders taking place in front of me. Mario was also overcome with the masterful playing of the marvelous instruments. The photos don't do it justice. Videos wouldn't have, either. 

Eduardo Paniagua talked with the audience between cantigas. He explained the miracles and their context, his perceptions of Alfonso's contribution to world culture, and how moved he was to be playing cantigas in Ciudad Real on November 23, 2021. I'd seen interviews with him before, and he always struck me as a very practical, no-nonsense kind of guy. But you can't be strictly practical and head a project of this magnitude for thirty years. Perhaps he's both down-to-earth and unbelievably passionate about this best of all medieval books, rather like I imagine Alfonso X himself. 

Afterward, they had discs for sale and the musicians stayed to chat with any audience member who wished to ask about the instruments or cantigas. I stood, my knees like jelly, my brain mush, and couldn't force myself to get in line to talk to Eduardo Paniagua just yet. Mario seized the opportunity to chat with Jaime Muñoz about the various flutes. While participating in that conversation, I also observed the others interacting with everyone and got the sensation that everyone in that large room loved cantigas and treated each other with kindness and respect because of that mutual understanding. 

Rather than calming me down, that rush of love wound me up more. When it was finally my turn to talk to Eduardo Paniagua, I could only start by buying the latest two discs, which are in fact two-disc sets. But then somehow I managed to say my fangirl speech about how I think the cantigas project is the best project in the world and how I've been listening for twenty years, and being able to listen to the music has influenced my writing. 

Luckily, Eduardo then asked me what I write. I accepted Trovador de Santa Maria from Mario, and showing it to Eduardo, I explained that it's a book I wrote for the 800th anniversary, and that the short stories are based on the plots of cantigas. And that I would be honored if he accepted this copy. He was incredibly gracious, insisting I sign it and gifting me a triple-disc set in return. (So I'm seven discs richer in cantigas than before I went to Ciudad Real!) 

Two Alfonso enthusiasts exchange works of art. 

Afterward, I went over to where Luis Antonio Muñoz, who did most of the singing, was showing the psaltery to a journalist, and told him (forgive my schmaltz), "Thank you for being the voice of Alfonso X." He was a very good sport about it and had a more-than-pleasant conversation with us. We were also able to congratulate Wafir Sheik on his excellent lute playing before we left. 

A journalist overheard Mario and me talking with Luis Antonio Muñoz and came to ask us why we'd come so far to see a free concert. By then, I was warmed up, not to say on fire, and launched right into Trovador de Santa Maria. Look at the last paragraph of this article. I feel so proud looking at that! The organizers said they'd be in touch about a possible book event, too. A triumph all around. 

I'm so grateful for these moments! I honestly don't know if I could've gone through with talking to everyone without Mario's encouragement. So I'm unspeakably grateful that he was able to come with me! 

In the end, Alfonso X's 800th birthday was better than I could've imagined. Happy birthday! 

See more Alfonsine photos here: