Eloisa James
New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James writes historical romances for HarperCollins Publishers. Her novels have been published to great acclaim. A reviewer from USA Today wrote of Eloisa's very first book that she "found herself devouring the book like a dieter with a Hershey bar"; later People Magazine raved that "romance writing does not get much better than this." Her novels have repeatedly received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and regularly appear on the best-seller lists.
After graduating from Harvard University, Eloisa got an M.Phil. from Oxford University, a Ph.D. from Yale and eventually became a Shakespeare professor, publishing an academic book with Oxford University Press. Currently she is an associate professor and head of the Creative Writing program at Fordham University in New York City. Her "double life" is a source of fascination to the media and her readers. In her professorial guise, she's written a New York Times op-ed defending romance, as well as articles published everywhere from women's magazines such as More to writers' journals such as the Romance Writers' Report.
Eloisa...on her double life:
When I'm not writing novels, I'm a Shakespeare professor. It's rather like having two lives. The other day I bought a delicious pink suit to tape a television segment on romance; I'll never wear that suit to teach in, nor even to give a paper at the Shakespeare Association of America conference. It's like being Superman, with power suits for both lives. Yet the literature professor in me certainly plays into my romances. The Taming of the Duke (April 2006) has obvious Shakespearean resonances, as do many of my novels. I often weave early modern poetry into my work; the same novel might contain bits of Catullus, Shakespeare and anonymous bawdy ballads from the 16th century.
When I rip off my power suit, whether it's academic or romantic, underneath is the rather tired, chocolate-stained sweatshirt of a mom. Just as I use Shakespeare in my romances, I almost always employ my experiences as a mother. When I wrote about a miscarriage in Midnight Pleasures, I used my own fears of premature birth; when the little girl in Fool For Love threw up and threw up, I described my own daughter, who had that unsavory habit for well over her first year of life.
So I'm a writer, a professor, a mother - and a wife. My husband Alessandro is Italian, born in Florence. We spend the lazy summer months with his mother and sister in Italy. It always strikes me as a huge irony that as a romance writer I find myself married to a knight, a cavaliere, as you say in Italian.
One more thing...I'm a friend. I have girlfriends who are writers and girlfriends who are Shakespeare professors. And I have girlfriends who are romance readers. In fact, we have something of a community going on my website. Please stop by and join the conversation on my readers' pages.
“My only excuse is that I have no reputation myself, and I am thereby well aware of its ephemeral value. Reputation is worthless.Sebastian Bonnington's love letter to Esme Rawlings”
“Marry me, Esme. Please. Honor me. I will honor you as your husband never did. Our marriage would be a remedy against sin, if anyone could ever call it a sin to love you.”Sebastian Bonnington to Esme Rawlings”
“A lady should never feel anxious about her behavior. The status is bred in the bone. To show anxiety is to lower oneself. Anxiety is vulgar.”
“I very much regret to tell you that our piglet will not be able to attend, as he made good his escape while we were otherwise occupied.”
“A fit encomium for marital bliss," Beaumont said, putting down his knife and fork. "Dancing to a tune one neither likes nor understands, with a partner who thinks you a cadaver.”
“Yes Leopold," Eleanor said in a low, mocking voice. "Do start to shine, please. I think I saw the rising, but I definitely missed the shining.”
“There's nothing I like more than meeting velvet clad peers while wrapped in a towel.”
“I do believe that his given name is something odd. Peregrine, Penrose- Piers, that's it.""He sounds like a dock." Lord Sundron put in."Mrs. Hutchins called me a light frigate this morning," Linnet said "a dock might be just the thing for me.”
“God Almighty, your ruined, and you didn't even eat the gingerbread.”
“Where did you go to school?” Piers inquired. “Your all together too literate for a butler. Most bulters I know say things like as you wish, my lord, and leave it at that. Our conversations should be along these lines: Prufrock, bring me a wench and then you would say, as you wish.”
“She still remembered sitting for hours as a little girl and pretending to be a hassock. A foot stool. Because if she could just stay very small, and very quiet, her mother would forget she was there, and then she wouldn't scream about people and places and things that had gone wrong.”
“I didn't realize you needed a response. When Hamlet is giving a monologue, he just goes on and on by himself.”
“I have bought a house, but not possessedit." She was quite sure that the look in her eyes rivaled that of any light skirts on the streets of London. "And I am sold, but not yet enjoyed.”
“Gabriel actually laughed. "Luckily for Philippa, she's beautiful enought that another man will come along who has the balls to accept what she's offering.”
“I love you," he said, his voice catching. "When I thought you were going to die, I wanted to die.”
“How many times would I damn myself for you? Ask me that.""How many?" she said faintly, her eyes searching his face. She stopped breathing to hear his answer."Till the gates of hell close," he said flatly.”
“She pulled back, but not abruptly. His eyes were the darkest indigo blue that she had ever seen. She let a faint smile curl on her lips. "You inquire how many kisses of yours would be enough, and more to satisfy me," she said, and was startled to hear a husky catch in her voice. "As many as the grains of Libyan sand that lie between hot Jupiter's oracle… as many…" She paused. The look in his eye had made her forget what she was saying. What came after hot oracle!He didn't look sardonic now, but truly surprised. She had to leave. This was all entirely too intimate and uncomfortable."Alas," she said, gathering up her skirts again and turning toward the rockslide. "I have quite forgotten the next line, so we shall have to delay this learned discussion." He was at her shoulder in a moment, helping her over the stones."As many as the stars," he said, conversationally, as if they were talking of gardening, or Romans, or any number of polite topics. "As many as the stars, when the night is still, gazing down on secret human desires.”
“Sometimes I spend all day in my dressing gown. But if I do dress, I make myself ravishing because then, I feel ravishing.”