‘Wellspring’ Online Launch


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Wellspring Release Header It is with great pleasure that, on this anniversary of G.K. Chesterton’s death and the Feast of St Basil, I would like to announce the publication of Wellspring. Though I began writing Wellspring thirteen years ago, it was actually nine years earlier when I first seriously contemplated writing fiction. My History professor at UCLA, Bariša Krekić, reignited my love of the past with his fine storytelling, and it was he who suggested that a historian should write a series of novels about the kings of Croatia. I haven’t got around to that yet, but Wellspring has the atmosphere I should like to convey in those novels one day, that of faith and fortitude.

On a lighter note, I did not delegate the research for this book and it required no small amount of fortitude on my own part. I studied sixteenth-century English swordfighting at Stephen Hand’s Stoccata School of Defence, and had to cross swords with the man whom I would eventually marry. And I spent more than one hundred memorable sea days on the tall ship, Lady Nelson, learning a way of life that is virtually extinct. There aren’t many ways of truly understanding the rhythm of life before the twentieth century, but sailing a brig up the east coast of Tasmania and across Bass Strait is surely one of them. For a (former) landlubber scared of heights, it speaks volumes that I now count furling a topsail while at sea as one of the great pleasures in life.

That said, Wellspring is no ordinary fantasy. While there’s plenty of intrigue and adventure, it is my hope that readers will find the characters stay with them, that they will remember these personal accounts as if they were themselves there. I have written it as a chronicle, a collection of vivid primary source testimonies collected from witnesses in a trance-like state. In this regard, it is a historian’s flight of fancy – witnesses with perfect recall who can only tell the truth.

The truth is central to Wellspring. While a good book should entertain, it must do more than that. Without truth, there is no point to the hopes and struggles of my characters. They fight for what they believe in. They do not live in a nihilistic world like ours. They are a reminder of what we have lost and what may be regained if we too have faith and fortitude.

Finally, it would be remiss of me to neglect to mention that today is an auspicious day, and not just because it marks the release of this labour of love. It is the birthday of two exceptional gentlemen whose faith in me has surpassed my own. Without them, I might never have had the courage to liberate Wellspring from its years of hibernation. I wish them both many happy returns. We do, however, live in a modern world, and I am told every book needs a trailer, just like a film. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford the services of Kenneth Branagh, so here is my debut.  (Watch it full screen if you can.)

You can purchase Wellspring at Amazon in paperback and Kindle. Autographed copies are also available direct from me for Australian residents only.  Cost is $20 plus $15 express postage. Email me if you would like to order a copy: mishka@alumni.brown.edu

My New Novel ‘Wellspring’ Available Next Month

Like a good single malt, this novel of mine has taken a long time to mature, but I am pleased to inform you that it is in its final stages.  Control freak that I am, my current battle is to switch hats and complete the maps and cover design.

Version 2

The book should be available mid-June, Deo volente.  If you are a writer interested in an advance PDF copy for review or an interview with me, please contact me at mishka@alumni.brown.edu.

MEG Author Inside

Mishka Gora is the author of Fragments of War and has written about faith, conscience, and international justice for more than a decade in publications such as Quadrant, Catholic365, and The Times of Israel.

An erstwhile historian (trained at Monash, UCLA, Brown, and UTas), she is the winner of the 2007 George Yule Essay Prize and featured in the 2012 Croatian documentary film Udruzena Nepravda (Joint Injustice). Mishka is married with four home-educated children and is passionate about tall ships, sword-fighting, and historical costume and cuisine.

Genocide Denial at the International Court of Justice


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“The ICJ has not disputed that people were taken out and murdered on account of their ethnicity. It has not disputed the existence of concentration camps. But they have come out with a pathetic childish lie: that the Serbs didn’t mean to destroy the Croats.

Make no mistake, this is the new face of genocide denial.”

Read more: The New Face of Genocide Denial | Mishka Gora | The Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-new-face-of-genocide-denial/#ixzz3QrCNfHeL

In Blithe Australia….


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Things are blithe but not so bonny in Australia….

“As we light the first of our Hanukkah candles this evening, we do so in the knowledge that it is not in a room full of sunlight. Darkness is falling in Australia, not least in our own minds. It’s time for us to call a spade a spade. If we can’t even call terrorism by its name or, worse, feel compelled to blame the victim, we are complicit in our own downfall. There may be no reasonable way to root out every single potential terrorist in our country, but we can stifle such impulses by illuminating the truth and stamping upon lies and deceptions. The first step at this juncture is to call the ‘siege’ an ‘attack’ and the ‘lone gunman’ a ‘terrorist’. Unless we can admit these basic facts, the darkness will continue to descend.”
Read more: In Blithe Australia… | Mishka Gora | The Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/in-blithe-australia/#ixzz3M2rQhtei
Follow us: @timesofisrael on Twitter | timesofisrael on Facebook

Is God in the Picture?


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In today’s post at the Times of Israel, I discuss morality, intellectual castration, and the we-know-better phenomenon.

This orientation towards feelings is a downward spiral in which the effect of obscurantism becomes the cause of further deterioration of the modern mind. Our silence about wrongdoing and willingness to compromise on goodness isn’t just a sign of the times – it is the shaky foundation our future.

Read more: Is G-d in the Picture? | Mishka Gora | The Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/is-g-d-in-the-picture/#ixzz3KtxfYkH3
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Book Review: ‘Sword and the Serpent’ by Taylor R. Marshall


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Saint George and the Dragon is a fairy tale, but Taylor Marshall begs to differ. His novel Sword and the Serpent claims to be a “historical retelling” of the St George legend. The problem is, whether historians like it or not, we don’t think of St George as a historical figure like St Augustine. Even though saints like St John the Baptist and St Paul preceded him, St George has been lost in the mists of time and become a legend whom we don’t really take all that seriously. After all, as my seven year old daughter often points out to her knightly younger brother: dragons aren’t real.

So I was intrigued by Marshall’s claim, but when I received my advance copy I must admit I hesitated to open it. Would it be yet another fantasy romp masquerading as historical fiction? Could Marshall fashion a character both historical and credible? Was I going to regret agreeing to read and review what would probably make me cringe the whole way through?

I turned to the first page and breathed a sigh of relief. Emperor Diocletian greeted me and there wasn’t a dragon in sight. Here was someone familiar, even if only from spending many memorable moments in his palace in Split, Croatia; and George – or Jurian as he is mostly called in the book – was most certainly not in possession of a white charger. Marshall has made the unknown Silene into Cyrene, with its apt connotations of Simon of Cyrene – a fair interpretation – and St Christopher has been given a Philistine ancestry to explain his great height and strength. Even St Nicholas (the precursor of Santa Claus) makes an appearance, and his story is faithful to what we know about the fourth century bishop of Myra.

The book doesn’t have the gravity or poise of Robert Graves’s I, Claudius, but that is perhaps the selling point of Sword and the Serpent – it is an easy and engrossing read.

By the end of my first day, despite the responsibilities of home schooling, writing a blog post, and the demands of four young children, I had almost finished the three hundred plus page book. It is written in a classic style and is appropriate for adults and teenagers alike. Crucially, it maintains a good pace throughout and draws you into the world of Jurian, Sabra, and co..

That world is largely credible, though as a historian I do wonder at Marshall’s decision to not use the name legend has given St George’s sword: Ascalon. Ascalon is the medieval name for the city of Ashkelon in Israel. Even in St George’s day it had a rich history upon which Marshall could have drawn for the sword’s background. I am, frankly, surprised that the author of The Crucified Rabbi would ignore such a ‘gold mine’ – especially as he has made the Canaanite/Philistine connection through the character of St Christopher – in favour of an anachronistic legend from the other end of the Roman Empire. It is the one aspect that diminished my enjoyment of what is essentially an excellent read.

The character of Sabra is also interesting. Marshall has cleverly explained how she was confused as a princess and instead made her a priestess who sacrifices children. Far from being an evil character, though, she comes across as motivated by love, dedicated to saving her people, and altogether desperate. She is quite the modern woman, and (whether intended or not) she is the archetype of the mother who sacrifices her own child through abortion. Marshall illuminates her character with brilliance. We are given a wonderfully realistic understanding of her thinking and feelings about child sacrifice. Ultimately, though, she learns that in her desperation she has ignored the only truly loving and right path, and that sacrifice can take many forms.

My only concern is that some may read Sabra’s desperation as an excuse and her willingness to sacrifice herself as exculpatory. Jurian is held to a higher standard. When he stabs a man in self-defence he is blamed for provoking the other man (even though that man had murdered someone in his presence only moments before). Though he has more than one justification for his action, he is held to account as if he had none. Sabra, on the other hand, is let off the hook seemingly on account of being desperate, weak, and helpless – even though she has the emotional strength and resilience to be able to prepare and escort children to their gruesome deaths. Now, I’m no feminist, but I do believe men and women have the same moral agency and responsibility for their actions, so it does bother me that the compelling Sabra is shown to be mentally robust while morally irresponsible whereas the saintly Jurian is portrayed as comparatively immature even though they are roughly the same age.

However, if this is the book’s main flaw it is a ‘good’ one. It reflects our society and how women are so often given a free ride. It reflects the way we criticise men and demand that they ‘man up’ while at the same time making excuses for women in advance of their bad behaviour. I hope that by seeing just one example placed outside of our own context we will gain enough perspective to question why this is so… and whether chivalry is just another form of feminism, albeit sanitised and of a more romantic ilk.

There isn’t much more I can say without giving away too much and spoiling the book, so I will end by way of a quote in the hope that it will inspire you to buy a copy and read it for yourself; because it is a captivating novel and deserves to be read.  I’ll be buying a copy this Christmas!

To his surprise, the emperor looked nothing like the statues he had seen of him. They all showed a rugged, bearded face, strong and implacable, but the Diocletian standing before him was cold rather than strong, and dominating rather than implacable. He wore no beard, and his hair was cropped short, not curled over his forehead like the sculptors showed. His face wasn’t rugged but it had a strange kind of beauty to it, remote and dangerous. Jurian wasn’t surprised that most of Rome considered him a god.

Diocletian’s ice-blue eyes held his, measuring him steadily. At first Jurian thought he saw anger simmering behind his stare, but it shifted to curiosity, then, slowly, to something like respect.

“You dare to meet my gaze?” he asked quietly.

Jurian swallowed hard. The emperor’s voice was impressive even at a murmur, like calm waters veiling the rise of a maelstrom. His mind chased after something to say, but words slipped away, meaningless.

“Why should I not?” he heard himself ask.

Diocletian’s mouth twisted in a faint smile. “Because I am the divine Augustus, god and master of the known world.”

“But you came into the world from a woman just like every man,” Jurian said.

Sword and the Serpent is already available on Amazon as a Kindle edition. The paperback is due for release on December 1.

The Folly of Forgetting


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“You can’t remember the fall of Vukovar twenty-three years ago and not take sides. So today I don’t just remember those who fell and those who remain trapped by the memories of war and suffering. I also remember the folly of forgetting, what happens when we resort to disinterest and appeasement, because ‘never again’ is the voice of conscience. We must never allow it to be silenced. We must, as Churchill put it, “take our stand for freedom”. It is time for recovery and the rebirth of our resolve that such abominations will happen ‘never again’.”

Read more: The Folly of Forgetting | Mishka Gora | The Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-folly-of-forgetting/#ixzz3JOArmKqV
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Armistice Day Musings


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“So we find ourselves caught between the faithful and the faithless, a false dichotomy that pits the fervent against the apathetic. Freedom-fighters and terrorists are thrown into the same basket (and often mislabelled one as the other). Detachment and disinterest have been made into virtues.”

Read my complete post at: The Faithful and the Faithless 

Lay Off the Hijab


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You know your chances of a reasonable and civilised debate aren’t good when most of the people arguing their point can’t even use the correct terms. This is why my heart sank a few days ago and has stayed fairly submerged: it seems few people know the difference between a hijab and a burka or a modest woman and a terrorist.

Most of my readers will have deduced that I don’t have a lot of sympathy for Islam. So you may be taken aback by what I am about to say. But please hear me out.

The hijab is a beautiful garment. Head scarves are a wonderful expression of individuality, modesty, and aesthetic taste. I would love to see more women choose to cover their heads. Think of a world with more wide brimmed sun hats like the one Amal Alamuddin wore in Venice last week, cloche hats from the 1920s, bonnets reminiscent of Jane Austen novels, headscarves like that of the ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring’, bandanas tied like Rosie the Riveter, medieval head dresses that the Society for Creative Anachronism recreate for their events, et cetera, et cetera. It would be so refreshing to see what women would come up with if the ‘norm’ weren’t the current fashion of badly-cut hair worn either out or in a messy ponytail or bun.

The hijab is just one version of a head covering. It’s true it sets the women wearing them apart, but no more so than a Catholic nun’s veil and wimple, an Orthodox Jewish tichel, an African head dress, or a Protestant kerchief. They look different. Or, I should say, we look different (because I love to cover my head). And there is nothing wrong with being different. The world would be very boring indeed if we were all the same.

So next time you see a woman wearing a hijab or something like it, try to exercise your curiosity and think outside the box. If you can’t help thinking about the Islamic State and the atrocities it is perpetrating overseas, at least keep in mind that the woman in front of you may be wearing a hijab because she fled a country in which she would have been forced to wear a niqab or burka… and that glaring at her isn’t the best way to communicate that Christianity is all about love or that the West is founded upon democracy and tolerance. The hijab is not a symbol of oppression or male domination. It’s just a head covering, something which Western women have worn throughout history. Perhaps Muslim women are inadvertently reminding us of our own rich heritage, which we are in grave danger of losing altogether….

P.S. I’m not going to add a photo of me in a hijab as I’m not Muslim, but here’s one of me in a head scarf.  Not particularly “confronting”, is it?!

20140921 meg tichel