How to Fake It in Society by KJ Charles is m/m historical romance about a dashing scoundrel and his sweet cinnamon bun of a target.
It’s 1821. Titus Pilcrow makes paints for a living. He’s quiet, kindhearted, and seriously overworked. Abruptly inheriting a massive fortune courtesy of a dying elderly woman who is not about to let her murderous nephew inherit is both going to make his life easier and infinitely more complicated.
Enter Nicolas-Marc, Comte de Valois de La Motte. London Society believes he is the son of an infamous French noblewoman who stole a diamond necklace. In reality, Nico is an actor in an immense amount of debt with gangsters on his tail. His plan had been to marry a certain elderly woman, but someone beat him to the punch.
Titus becomes the target of every scammer in London. How is Nico to resist? It’s a fair exchange, really. Nico can teach him how to be a gentleman, and in the process, secure a solution to his looming woes. It is a flawless plan, just so long as neither of them falls in love.
How to Fake It in Society by KJ Charles is m/m historical romance at its finest—featuring a con man and his target. The yearning! (Oh, the yearning.) Dealing with manners and societal expectations! The fascinating facts interwoven throughout! There are secrets and schemes, fashion and dastardly villains, and so much more. Did I mention the yearning? Or what happens when they give into said yearning?
WHAT’S IT ABOUT
It is 1821, and Titus Pilcrow, a simple seller of paints, finds himself suddenly bestowed with a great fortune. Titus becomes a target of every scammer in London...including one Nicolas-Marc, Comte de Valois de La Motte. When Titus offers Nico a space in his household, it's the perfect chance for Nico to exploit London's newest golden purse—until he falls in love with the man he needs to cheat.
The Comte was there the next morning as promised, in a coat of intense green. It suited him wonderfully and Titus glanced at it a few times as they walked together to Brook Street, enjoying the sunshine.
“I hope you admire my colour?” the Comte remarked quizzically.
“It is an excellent colour, in itself and on you.” He couldn’t resist making the compliment, because it was exquisitely true: The green was a perfect foil to the Comte’s dark hair, and set off his bronzed eyes in a way that made Titus shudder with pleasure. Honesty forced him to go on. “I just wondered, do you know it’s Scheele’s green?”
He got a bright-eyed glance. “Who is Scheele, and what is his green?”
“A chemist: he invented it. I wasn’t sure if you knew what it’s made of.”
“An Indian tree? A sea-creature, like the famous purple?”
“Murex. No. No, it’s copper arsenite.”
“Arsenite—” The Comte stopped short. “Arsenic?”
“It’s just that you seemed rather shocked by orpiment, so I thought you might want to know.”
“I might indeed have liked to know that, and before I bought it,” the Comte said with feeling. “Is there—I ask merely for information—is there any colour that is not made of poison, ear wax, vomit, or death?”
“Oh, many,” Titus assured him. “Well, some. It’s just that the best colours do tend to be—”
“Of course they do. The colour is all. Scheele makes his green and cares nothing for the consequence. It is safe to wear, I suppose?”
“Uh . . .”
“What?” the Comte snapped, somehow sounding rather less French than usual.
“Many people do wear it. It’s wonderfully popular as a dye and a paint for all sorts of uses. It’s just, I might avoid”—Titus mimed brushing the front of his coat—“with your hands. Or wash them before you eat.”
“Before I—” The Comte’s mouth moved silently. “I’m wearing arsenic. My tailor sold me arsenic.”
“It is very popular,” Titus repeated. “And it’s really the only way to get that excellent green.”
The Comte said something emphatic in French. A passing governess recoiled.
This time it’s not my fault! The author lady herself put the idea in my head! ⬇
Only, those bright, wispy colours just don’t work for most KJ Charles books. And the butterflies in the original meant I pretty much had to pick The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal to do up romance cover style. It even had enough animals to replace the ones in the original…though they’re much less friendly animals. So I sacrificed the colour scheme in favour of keeping it closer to the tone of the book, but kept the very stereotypical romance novel composition.
In response to all those articles about talking to women with headphones…
Someone always says it, whenever it comes up:
“I guess I’m just not allowed to talk to anyone any more!”
Well.
Yes.
It is my duty to inform you that we took a vote
all us women
and determined that you are not allowed to talk to anyone
ever again.
This vote is legally binding.
Yes, of course, all women know each other,
the way you always suspected.
(Incidentally, so do Canadians. I’m just throwing that out there.)
We went into the women’s room at the Applebee’s at the corner of 54
and all the others streamed in through the doors
into that endless liminal space,
a chain of humans stretching backward
heavy skulled Neanderthal women laughing with New York socialites,
Lucille Ball hand in hand with the Taung child.
We sat around in the couches in the women’s room
(I know you’ve always been suspicious of those couches)
and chatted with each other in the secret female language
that you always knew existed.
Somebody set up a console–
the Empress Wu is ruthless at Mario Kart
and Cleopatra never learned to lose
and a woman who ruled an empire that fell
when the Sea People came
and left no trace
can use the blue shell like a surgical instrument.
Eventually we took the vote.
You had three defenders:
your grandmother and your first-grade teacher
and an Albanian nun who believes the best of everybody.
Your mom abstained.
It was duly recorded in the secret notebooks
that have been kept under the couch in the Applebee’s
since the beginning of recorded time.
And then we went back to playing Mario Kart
and Hoelun took off her bra
and we didn’t think about you again
except that I had to carry this message.
So anyway
good luck with that
it’s just as you always said it was.
Hush now,
no talking
As a personal project I designed my own versions of the covers for the Society of Gentlemen books by KJ Charles! These have been in the works for a very long time so I’m excited to finally share them. Thank you KJ for this wonderful series and its characters!
If you’re into LGBT+ historical fiction based around real events, definitely check this series out.
(Spoilers for A Seditious Affair) That feeling when you’ve been seeing someone for a whole year but you NEVER KNEW EACH OTHER’S NAMES. Then it turns out you’re enemies and now work is super awkward. And also the people who introduced you assumed you knew too and that’s why nobody said anything. Oh boy.
This book is a feelings rollercoaster each time I read it. Delightful angst and dramatic irony and sweetness.
(Please read Society of Gentlemen it’s such a good series)
this image by j.c. leyendecker is the absolute epitome of wlw/mlm solidarity
look at the two of them. dressed to the nines. silks from france and cotton from egypt. chanel on them both. they’re at a party neither of them was invited to, but so damn good looking that no one in their right mind would turn them away at the door. the woman - titties free under that dress, scoping out women in salacious flapper dresses in gloves created from 100,000 insects’ life work. the man - smoking a cigarette he took out from the mouth of one of the millionaires at the party, saying nothing but giving him a slow smile and a wink. the flower in his lapel is fake. dying plants in your clothing is such a hideous fashion. the both of them haven’t spoken to anyone there, though everyone has tried. they stand on the stairs staring at the heterosexual proles gathered below them together, and the two of them wonder if those fools realize that they’re outclassed, that in every way, they’ve been outdone. they leave early with a bottle of champagne in each fist, and no one stops them.
My favourite book of the Society of Gentlemen series was ‘A Seditious Affair’ so it was about time I drew its featured lovers Dom and Silas. The whole series is worth checking out if you’re looking for Regency-era LGBT literature with gripping plot (and happy endings, important), but these two, THESE TWO.
I got punched right in the heart. In a good and satisfying way, because I can’t resist a good love story where they’re on opposite sides of the law. Bonus points if they don’t KNOW that beforehand, like these idiots…
“Wednesday by Wednesday, week by week, I have loved you.”
1. You have an enormous black dog which must be walked for four hours daily or it puts its excess energy to use in lighting witch-fires in awkward places. One day you were feeling a little ill, so you asked the unreliable narrator to walk the dog instead. The unreliable narrator faithfully walked the dog for four hours. It is a complete mystery as to why everything is on fire.
2. You hid under the grand staircase to escape that thing that was knocking at your window in the height of the storm. Now there is a ‘delivery failed’ notice on the mat. You are going to have to pick up your artisan cheeses from the local depot twenty miles away.
3. The malign spirit possessing you has lapsed on its ghastly rent, and as a consequence you have been re-possessed by a bailiff. It is somewhat alarming to be in the possession of a supernatural bailiff. Your body spends more time in the high court of the dead that you would like.
4. You came to this graveyard on the cliff over the sea at the dead of night with the intent of digging up the grave of your long-lost love, which you believe to contain the silver dagger that alone can settle her unquiet ghost. It is a stressful situation. You were never very good at numbers when stressed. You believe you may have taken twenty rather than thirty paces from the old yew tree and may in consequence have dug up a badger.
5. A dread raven has settled over your door, from which it hourly proclaims your doom. You made a plan to get rid of the raven. The raven network appears to have got hold of this plan, because another smaller raven turned up to perch on the shoulder of the first and proclaim its doom. Now a third, even smaller one has turned up. You have recursive ravens. There is probably a lot of doom about to come down.
6. Lacking a cellar, you have walled up your rival beneath your floorboards. Unfortunately your rival is a mouse and seems to be enjoying it down there. Will the cheese board will never be safe?
7. Now that they the have closed the refinery across the bay, the mist no longer descends over the high moor at night and as a consequence gruesome deeds cannot be done unnoticed. You have a huge to-do list of gruesome deeds. The local undertaker has started to call you up regarding supply chain issues.
8. You have been staring into this abyss for some considerable time. It is not gazing back. In point of fact it is ignoring you completely. It looks like you will be going home alone tonight.
9. Your grandmother has refused to pass down the ancestral curse, instead bequeathing it to the local cats’ home.
Hey all! This poem is part of my chapbook Miss Translated, which I produced in a limited run as Town Hall Seattle’s Spring 2017 artist-in-residence. The main conceit behind this work is that to accurately portray my relationship with Spanish, I have to explore the pain and ambiguity of not speaking the language of my grandparents and ancestors. As a result, these poems are bilingual … sort of. Each one is translated into English incorrectly.
The poems I produced have secrets, horrific twists, emotional rants, and confessions hiding in the Spanish. It’s my hope that people can appreciate them regardless of their level of Spanish proficiency.
oh shit. my spanish is pretty shaky, but i’m pretty sure “te perdono” is “i forgive you.” wow understanding just that much is pretty chilling.
and something about…blood? and transformation? oooh yikes. she didn’t want legs in the spanish version did she. and it was a painful process.
so this poem is about…misunderstandings leading to pain for the person misunderstood? whish is really effective with the way it’s written, wow. this is the most meta poem form i’ve ever seen. wow.
#reblog#photoset#poetry#i later ran it thru google translate to confirm my theories#won’t post said translation or say how right i was#cuz i feel like that’s missing the point
<— This right here is AMAZING. Look at the journey this person went on reading my poem! Secret fact, I have been stalking tags and reblogs of this because what I wanted more than anything was to provide an experience for people and LOOK AT YOU ALL GO. Your engagement and enthusiasm is amazing and so humbling for me.
Holy crap, this is incredible. As a natively bilingual Latina woman, allow me to dive into a full analysis.
First, I should tell you my experience of reading this. I didn’t even look at the English at first, because I didn’t know that the mistranslation was the point, and of course I didn’t need it. So I read the whole poem in Spanish and thought it was really sad and moving. Then I looked at the English and my eyebrows went right up to my hairline. Why the hell would you translate it this way, I thought.
Then I read the caption and realized that this is a genius way of demonstrating how translation into English can be an act of colonization and violence.
I would translate the first two lines as “The mermaid rose from the sea / To see the dry world.” They’re very neutral lines. She was curious about the dry world, so she went to check it out. That’s a very different connotation from the mistranslation, which tells you that the mermaid preferred the land to the sea.
The second two lines I would say mean “She found a fisherman on the beach / this beautiful fish without a net.” She’s the one with agency here, not the fisherman, and she thinks of herself as a free fish, unconstrained by a net, not as a fish without a home.
The next three lines by my lights read “She had a gleaming tail; scales / that covered her breasts, arms, and face / and a wake of lacy waves.” Again, it’s from her perspective, not the fisherman’s, and she thinks of herself as having a gleaming rather than oily tail, a lacy wake rather than a frothing one.
Next stanza: “The fisherman caught her by the tail / and cut it in half.” From her point of view, the fisherman has committed a sudden and senseless mutilation. Then he goes, “’Now,’ he said to her, ‘you have legs. / Why don’t you walk?’” It’s almost like an accusation. You have legs now, why don’t you just get up and walk?
My read on the next stanza is: “The mermaid began to sing to the sea / for aid, her blood transforming / the sand of the beach into rainbows.” The sea is her home, not the land, and she’s crying out to her home in pain as she bleeds.
Then the poem ends with “She sang to the fisherman, ‘I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.’”
The reason this mistranslation is so brilliant is that it takes a story about a mermaid trying to forgive a man who’s committed senseless violence against her, and turns it into a story about a man who uplifts a woman to a better life out of the kindness of his heart. And the thing is, that’s exactly what happens to so many stories from colonized cultures when they’re adapted by the oppressor. Translation into English, and further the cultural language of the oppressor, can be an act of violence and erasure rather than one of respect.
This is why I have worked so hard to translate poetry from Spanish to English that has previously only been translated by white Americans who learned Spanish in college. I can bring something to the translation that they can’t. It’s usually not this extreme, but this exists to some degree in all translations by people who don’t truly understand the culture that produced the work they’re translating.
Looking for Pride month reads? Pick up the LGBT+ Storybundle, including my gaslamp fantasy novel Death by Silver!
Featuring queer SFF by by Melissa Scott, Jo Graham, Amy Griswold, Geonn Cannon, KJ Charles, Jude McLaughlin, Heather Rose Jones, Catherine Lundoff, Steve Berman, and A.C. Wise. Pay what you want for 5 books in the basic bundle, or pay at least $15 and get 12 books in the bonus bundle.
I think Dominic and Silas probably are my favourite pair from KJ Charles’ book series “A Society of Gentlemen”. They’d have some nice time once Silas starts working in Richard’s library
